Before I can decipher his question, he strums my aching clit at the same time he releases my throat from his clutch. My legs buckle from beneath me when a sensation I’ve never experienced before tears through me. It is intense, like a fire igniting low in my gut before roaring through my veins. My entire body trembles from the force of it. It heats up every inch of my skin, making my subzero shower a thing of the past.
Just as quickly as euphoria pumps through me, shame takes its place. It’s not remembering I’m pinned to the door of a man determined to break me; it’s his smug chuckle. He’s laughing at how quickly he has me coming undone, like my inability to say no to him is all the proof he needs of my purity.
It fills me with anger and has me lashing out like a child. “I thought you wanted to prove my purity, not give reason as to why I helped free Dominique from you.”
Chapter 8
Asher
Rage fills me. It’s hot, quick, and violent. Nearly as brutal as the climax that just shredded through Zariah. That’s why she is lashing out. She’s ashamed I proved her wrong, embarrassed I made her quiver my name with nothing but the flick of my thumb. I had wondered during my trip home if her scent seconds from death was fear, or if the innocent aren’t as innocent as they seem. I was certain I had sampled a scent like hers before, but since I’ve never killed a woman, I couldn’t pass it off solely as fear. Now I know better.
Sweet, innocent Zariah isn’t as saintly as her virgin title.
I should finish what I started, claim her so hard and rough, she’ll feel me for days, but her scorn pisses me off more than I care to admit. My blood is still thick with the adrenaline I amassed during bloodshed, my skin slicked with more than my sweat, and I’m hard enough Zariah’s virginal blood would be spilled from just the first inch of my cock, but I step back, unpinning her from the door, not doing any of the wicked thoughts streaming through my head.
I don’t take anything unwillingly.
I also don’t fuck the help.
Zariah chose to be a chambermaid, so that’s what she’ll be.
Her towel rips from the top half of her body when I grip her arm and spin her around. With fury guiding me, my eyes don’t lower to take in the visual it eagerly absorbed only minutes ago. They liked what they saw, but now all they’re seeing is a woman determined to play my weaknesses. I don’t play games—especially when my opponent is my enemy. We may have been friendly when we were children, but we’ve been rivals for over a decade.
She should be counting her lucky stars that I’m a man of my word, or more than her virginal blood would have been spilled tonight.
“This is my room;pomoshch’have special rooms just for them.”
Zariah’s eyes widen from my calling her “the help,” but they have nothing on the way her pupils dilate when I walk her through the locked door hidden behind a thick tapestry. “This is your room.”
Her grip on her towel strengthens when I shove her into a room the size of a walk-in closet, just blander and less inviting. There’s a single bed with a springless mattress thrust in one corner, and a stack of empty drawers on her right. It’s as cold and as sterile as her comment made my mood.
“There’s no heating, lights or electricity. It is as basic as they come, but perfectly adequate for a chambermaid.”
I’m lying. The regular chambermaids have similar-sized bedrooms, but they have heating and electricity. Although I could request for Zariah to be bunked with them, I’m too pissed to think with the head on my shoulders.
Kostya has a big mouth. If he hasn’t already circulated news of Zariah’s purity, it will only be a matter of time before he does. Even though I shouldn’t give a fuck what happens to her, the thought of anyone touching her frustrates the shit out of me. Not because I want to seal the deal myself, but because as far as anyone is aware, we’re getting married at the end of the month. Even with having no intention of taking advantage of the situation my father has placed me in, I will not be made to look like a fool. Whether a whore or a housemaid, if it’s mine, you don’t touch it. I can’t explain it any more simply than that.
“If there’s no electricity, how will I see? There are no windows.”
After relishing the fear in Zariah’s voice, I yank down the tapestry with force. It shreds, sending particles of dust and cotton floating into the air. They’re easily visible, starkly contrasting with Zariah’s dark, wet hair.
I toss the rug onto the floor before nudging my head to the door we just walked through. “You either keep it open or use candlesticks. I’m not bothered either way.”
When I leave the room, she’s quick to trace my steps. “And my belongings?”
“I’ll have Lenin bring them in.” I dig a spare key for my door out of a woven basket of trinkets on top of my drawers before spinning around to face her. She’s scared but is once again putting up more fight than Zoran did. “You are to lock my door at all times. If you need to shower, there is a guest bathroom halfway down the hall on the right. You are to take your clothes with you.”
I step closer to her, ensuring she can see the warning in my eyes when I say, “Do not at any time walk these halls like that.” I wave my hand at her towel-covered body I’m fighting to ignore. I don’t take anything unwillingly given, but the scent of her arousal slicking my hand is proving difficult to ignore. “If anyone sees you like that, youwillbe punished. I don’t bring visitors to my room, so don’t have anyone here—male or female.” My ticking jaw frustrates me, but I do well at ignoring it. “Breakfast starts at five, so you will need to be awake by four.”
“AM?”
I shouldn’t smile at her squeaked question, but I do. Her shock reveals why she exudes so much purity. Her father raised her as if she’s a princess, and only now is she discovering what happens when a man’s kingdom topples. She’s being brought back down to earth by the man who was accused of doing exactly that many years ago.
“The chambermaids are first to rise and last to bed, so I expect you to do the same. Do that, and my pardon will remain as cited.”
Hearing the threat in my tone, she thrusts her hands under their opposite arms. “And if I don’t follow your rules?”
I raise my eyes from her folded arms to her face, taking in her thrusting chest, bruised neck, and parted lips on the way. “We’ll renegotiate, but be warned, you won’t come out of that negotiation as unscathed as you did tonight.”
