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“Passable?” Victor barked. “Merely passable? My sweetling, this estate is a work of fucking art.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t. I merely said it’s nothing compared to the real thing.”
“The real—?” Victor spluttered; his tightly controlled face had an aneurysm. “I’ll have you know this cost millions—”
“And money can buy many things, but it can’t buy the blood, sweat, and tears of peasants toiling hundreds of years ago. It can’t capture the misery of slaves who poured their heart and souls into the mortar and stone, or house the ghosts of unfortunate dead.”
“Oh, it houses the misery of unfortunate slaves alright,” Victor seethed. My blood burned with possession as he narrowed his eyes and looked Ily up and down. “What are you, after all?”
“I’m the girl who sees through your bullshit.” Ily yanked her hand from his and crossed her arms. “Just because you think you’re some sort of lord doesn’t make you impressive. It just makes you a fraud.”
Oh shit.
I went cold. My feet shifted toward her against my command. “Ily, fermez-la.” (Shut up.)
She didn’t.
Holding Victor’s gaze, she tipped up her chin. “It’s not even that original.”
Victor’s mouth hung open as if he couldn’t believe he stood there, debating the downfalls of his castle with a girl he’d kidnapped and collared. “Not original?”
Ily just kept digging her grave. “You’ve plagiarized a few ruins and strongholds, but if I’m reading all the mismatched features correctly, I’d say this is the ugly cousin of Sudeley Castle in Cheltenham.”
Victor glared as if he could glower her into dust. “How could you possibly know that?”
“So I’m right?” Ily grinned, slightly unhinged and kind of terrifying. “Thought so. I happen to have a National Trust pass, which I give a thrashing almost every weekend. I love visiting old places, walking in their halls, and staring into cabinets full of old gems. It’s a snapshot of what society treasured back then, but…what I love most is their history. I’ve seen almost every ruin, fort, and castle, and this? .…Well.” She shrugged. “It’s a fine attempt at capturing yesterday’s magic, but it’s still just a spoiled half-breed.”
What
the
fuck?
Who was this girl?
How was she calm enough to string two sentences together, let alone stand up to the men who’d entrapped her?
My chest swelled with respect all while it blackened with the very real, very sick desire to claw at her confidence, shred her self-worth, and earn crystal tears of submission.
I want her.
The thought slapped me around the head.
I’d wanted her the moment I saw her, but that burn was nothing compared to the incineration I felt now.
Silence blanketed us heavily. The eyes of the many writhing sexual partners on the walls peered at us. My hands balled and quads tensed, ready to throw a punch if Victor struck her for her deliberate insolence.
You can’t.
Remember?
Even though my body itched to protect her from the shitstorm she’d created, I forced myself to unlock my muscles and take a step back. She’d gotten me into this place, but I wasn’t a member yet. All I had to do was keep up the ruse until I could figure out how to bypass whatever signal-scrambling technology Victor had. Then my brother could swoop in and kill these bastards before I did something unforgivable.
Tension bit at my skin as Roland suddenly burst out laughing. Loud and obnoxious, his voice echoed in the massive space. “Holy shit. I think I’m in love with you.” Marching to Ily, Roland grabbed her cheeks and yanked her into him. He groaned as his lips descended on hers, kissing her all while she slammed her hands on his chest and shoved him hard.
He stumbled backward, his nails leaving red tracks on her cheeks as she spat a glob of spit on the tile. “Get your disgusting mouth off me.”
Roland just snickered and looked at Victor. “You do know what you’ve got here, right?”
