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I’m also a little giddy with trying to count down the minutes left until Thorne makes good on his promise.
Making my way through into the enormous ballroom, memories of our last visit here—and what transpired immediately afterward between myself and Thorne—ensure they make themselves vividly present in my memory.
My men remain close tonight. In the past, when we arrived, they would usually disappear into the crowd to occupy their positions, watching the room. But now that there are unknown threats hanging over my head, they have taken it upon themselves to flank me, two burly sentinels guarding my every move.
I can’t deny that it feels incredible to have them attending to me in such a public way.
Fighting has long since commenced, and judging by the thick cloud of blood-lust hanging over the Gathered—who are all seated at various tables arranged around in a horseshoe shape around the boxing ring—I’m assuming we’ve made it in time to watch Ven’s bout since he is the final attraction for the evening.
The Anguis’ murderous crown jewel.
An empty table lies up ahead, positioned with a full view of the room, though slightly elevated and at the back. The heir to Noire House is given prime placement, lording it over everyone else in attendance. I had been concerned I might be swarmed by the usual locusts being my late father’s friends, but the sea of skull masks are all trained on the fight going on at present inside the ring.
As I walk past, various guests acknowledge my presence and greet me, as they would have done for my father, I imagine. But the closeness of Thorne and Ky behind me prevents the usual clamoring for my attention and unwanted, wandering hands.
To my relief, the creeps hiding within the Anguis who want to try and lay claim to me are staying away.
Ky’s hand settles on my lower back as we reach the table. He leans in and speaks in my ear. “I’ll be with Ven for the fight. Thorne will stay with you.”
“Ok.” I breathe.
He inhales deeply against my neck, making my knees give out a little. “Ven and I will be able to see everything from up there. Make sure to put on a good show for us.” With that, he chuckles and strides away, while heat tingles in my cheeks. I don’t know what he means by that, but I suspect it has something to do with Thorne.
My thighs clench, and warmth pools low in my belly.
Thorne pulls out a seat at the very back of the table. It’s draped with thick black cloth that sweeps the floor, and there are bottles of champagne stacked on ice surrounding a centerpiece made of white roses.
He doesn’t let me take my own chair, however. Instead, he lowers himself, then tugs me to fall into his lap. Cradling my back against his chest, he guides both my legs to fall over one of his broad thighs.
Holy shit.
The pressure of sitting down with the toy in my ass adds a fresh wave of fullness and pleasure straight down to my toes. This position settles it deeper, something I’m sure is in no way accidental. Not where this man is concerned.
“Ten minutes is up, Foxglove.” His voice rumbles deep and desirous against my spine.
Oh, my god. He can’t possibly intend to do whatever it is he has in mind right out here in the open. I was half expecting him to drag me off into a private room or a bathroom, at the very least. This is madness, and I don’t know how I feel about messing around in front of a room full of people I despise.
“What are you doing?” I’m already breathless, and he hasn’t even touched me. “We can’t…not here.”
“You’re the heir to Noire House. You can do whatever you want.” His hands roam over the silky material of my dress; the heat from his palms dragging across the thin fabric feels like it is scalding me.
From across the room, I hear a sickening thud as a bloodied fighter hits the canvas. He doesn’t move. The room erupts in a feral chorus of cheers as his opponent hoists a gloved hand aloft and is pronounced the victor.
The tang of sweat and coppery waft of blood hits my nose.
“Lean forward.”
My eyes fly up to stare at Thorne. Mouth hanging open a little at the sight waiting for me when I crane my neck to look at him. There’s a sapphire pool of molten lust that traps me, forcing the breath to expel from my lungs in a rush.
Right now, I get the feeling this version of Thorne would have absolutely no problem bending me over this table and fucking me in front of every single person present in this room.
“Don’t you want to be a good girl for me?” He whispers into my neck.
I fold instantly.
God, I can’t handle the way my heart is seemingly ready to lurch into his rough hands without question.
I’m almost certain it did the day he walked into my tattoo studio.
