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The shower turned on.
I had two choices.
Let shame turn me stupid, or let sanity keep me alive.
I needed food.
That was the only thing that mattered right now.
Forcing myself to forget the awkwardness I’d caused, I dashed to the trolly in my white negligee. I couldn’t run, I couldn’t hide, but at least I could keep up whatever meagre strength I had.
With hunger-shaking hands, I whipped off the covers and dragged platefuls of fries, club sandwiches, and chocolate mud cake back to bed.
I might harbour unwanted feelings for my capturer turned saviour.
I might die away from my family, brother, and home.
This might be my last meal.
But at least if I died tomorrow, I would die while trying to survive.
Chapter Twenty-Three
………………………….
Henri
I DIDN’T RETURN TO MY bedroom until silence reigned.
No sounds of Ily moaning around every mouthful. No clink of crockery as she traded empty plates for full ones. I sat on the cold stone floor, leaning against the door with my arms on my knees and my head in my hands, sinking into Hades itself.
The way she’d looked at me.
The flush of her skin.
The heat of her barely-given kiss.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know the lust she felt at dinner still haunted her. I’d fucked her but hadn’t finished her. I’d used her for my own gain, just like Victor expected.
We completed our bargain of Master and slave, yet I hadn’t expected it to leave such a nasty aftertaste. Or for my insides to tear into shreds every time I tortured myself remembering what she’d said.
We.
She’d used the word we.
Together.
Despite everything that I’d done to her. Despite the degradation, technical rape, and very real threat of death hovering over both our necks, she still aligned herself with me.
We.
Together.
Merde.
It’d taken everything I had to get away from her. To stop myself from shoving her down and taking her. I wanted to take her as me, not the Master I played. Take her as a man who was rapidly realising that something else lurked within him.
Something deeper, darker, nastier.
