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A kiss was for lovers.
For hearts and souls and ever afters.
We were not lovers.
Fuck, I didn’t have the words for what we were.
Whatever we’d become, we were bound by a common goal, and as long as we stuck to those rules, then whatever I did to her would be exonerated and explainable.
I could hold my head up high when Q came blasting through the gates and pretend I hadn’t broken. I’d found a way to prove I deserved him and his family, all while playing a slippery game of truths and lies.
She thinks I’m a cop.
The repeating thought wriggled like a pestering worm.
She’s only on my side because she thinks I’m a cop.
That tiny white lie was the only one I’d told.
It wasn’t my fault she thought I was a better man than I could ever be. My intentions were still honourable, even if my method was…questionable.
I had her permission to bruise her.
Her consent to fuck her in order to play the role of saviour.
So what I’d just manipulated her by allowing her to think I was law enforcement?
So what she thought SWAT would pour over the battlement at any moment, bringing righteous rain-fire?
Just because I hadn’t corrected her didn’t mean our truce wasn’t justified. I still intended to save her and the other slaves. I didn’t need a badge or a uniform to do that. I had something better—a half-brother with untold wealth and cutthroat connections.
I hefted the heavy book in my palm.
Ily looked over her shoulder, her face as white as her honey skin would permit, her body hunched and scared. But she didn’t move. Didn’t crawl away.
Her genuine fear was the sweetest perfume.
But her obedience? That…frustrated me.
I hated that the blackest parts of me craved her breaking. It hungered to chase as she bolted. It salivated at the thought of overpowering her—of snatching her submission with claws and teeth rather than having it given to me just because we’d reached an understanding.
Goddammit, I’m not normal.
I had a naked woman on all fours. A woman knowing full well I meant to strike her with the book and consenting to it anyway. If it was a simple matter of getting off on domination, that would be more than enough.
So what the fuck did it say about me that I wanted her bleeding?
Chasing away those horrible thoughts, I closed the distance between us. Ily sucked in a breath as I dropped to my knees on the thick, patterned carpet behind her and planted a large hand on her lower back.
She flinched.
My cock reacted, feeding off her distress.
I wished I’d asked Q how he tamed his darkness.
How he earned a wife who didn’t hate him.
I needed to know.
