Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 142(@200wpm)___ 114(@250wpm)___ 95(@300wpm)
Technically, I’m a virgin, but I’m far from pure.
“Let’s get this over with.” I stride to the exam bench and climb up before sliding my panties down my legs. As I toss them to Liam, I give Vance a pointed look.
The doctor smirks, amused by my attitude. “I take it the chancellor filled you in already?”
Liam pockets my panties, and I hide a wince as I realize the ammunition I gave him. “That you’re about to violate my body again? Yeah, he told me.”
“Try to think of it no differently than an exam.” He washes his hands before slipping on a pair of latex gloves. “It’s painless and won’t take more than a couple of minutes.”
A couple of minutes is too long, but I lay back and lift my dress without complaint. Knees spread, modesty long ago abandoned, I force myself to watch as Vance pushes in a silver device no bigger than my pinky finger. It’s cylinder in shape, rounded at the ends, and as soon as he withdraws his fingers, I don’t feel a thing.
Except humiliated.
“All done,” he says, gentle kindness pulling at the corners of his hazel eyes. “You’ll need to come back to have it removed before your transition into the House of Libra, but other than that, you’ll likely forget it’s there.”
“That’s doubtful.” I hop to my feet, straighten my dress, and leave the exam room, head held high.
But I don’t make it five steps past the door before a firm hand grips my arm. “What’s gotten in to you?” Spinning me around, Liam halts me in my tracks. “This isn’t like you.” He tilts his head as if studying every angle of my face for an explanation.
“What’s not like me?” I yank my arm from his grasp. “Am I not acting like a doormat?” Upon his shocked expression, I push forward and jab a finger into his chest. “Am I not meek enough for you, Chancellor?”
“What did Sebastian do?” His eyes darken, an inkwell of murder swimming in the depths.
“What makes you think this is about Sebastian? Maybe I’m tired and disgusted by the male population in this God-forsaken tower.” Another step forward brings our chests within inches.
Holding my bold stare, he shakes his head. “No, you’re upset about something, and I know it revolves around him.” His lips curl in a sneer born of hurt and jealousy. “The woman I know doesn’t throw tantrums. She’s smart, keeps her cool, and she survives.”
“The woman you know was trained by a cold-blooded monster.”
“Then who are you now?”
“More than a piece of property.” I turn on my heel, but he grabs me again.
“You’ve always been more than property to me.” His chin dips with a hint of conciliatory sadness. “You might need these,” he says softly, dangling my panties from his finger.
“Keep them.” I retreat by three steps, my actions telling him the conversation is over. “Or better yet, give them to Sebastian. I’m sure he’d appreciate the gift, coming from you.” As I hurry down the corridor, heels click-clacking the whole way, the chancellor’s perplexed expression brings a vague smile to my lips.
Putting up a fight, no matter how insignificant, feels better than I thought it would.
3
Miles is waiting at the entrance to the House of Virgo, his sandy hair combed back and cuffs rolled up to reveal toned forearms. He pulls off a casual yet formal style, suit jacket missing but tie knotted at his throat.
“Welcome, my queen.”
Uncomfortable shyness steals over me as I approach him, and I halt three feet from where he stands on the threshold. He flashes a wide smile, perfect teeth a prominent feature in his masculine, angular face.
“You have a nice smile,” I say, unease disappearing at the way his welcoming grin reaches his eyes. They’re startling in hue—an almost translucent blue-grey that makes me think of ice.
“Thank you.” He gestures for me to enter. “Please, come in.”
I follow him into the foyer, and as soon as we enter the main sitting room, I’m struck by the lack of color. Everything is white—the plush sofas, the paint on the walls, even the artwork of hibiscus and the purest of calla lilies.
And the windows.
Not a venetian blind or curtain in sight.
“I hope the insertion process wasn’t too upsetting,” he says, ushering me into the kitchen to begin a tour of his home.
“It was invasive,” is all I say, taking in my surroundings. As kitchens go, this one is the largest yet, with an oversized marble island and a ten-burner stove sitting atop three ovens of various sizes. Like everything else, the white cabinetry blends with the theme.
“Do you employ a personal chef?”
He shakes his head. “Cooking is a passion of mine.” After showing me around the well-stocked kitchen—which includes anything I might need or desire—he takes me through a study, a wine room, and a home gym.