“It seemed only sporting.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “When one can intrude on another’s thoughts, debates become terribly weighted to one side. I amattemptingto be fair about this.”
“As for why, I just told you.” She was still glad to have the altar to lean on, even if her mind kept going back to the things she’d rather be doing on the altar than using it for support.
“Mm. I don’t believe you.” He watched her curiously, those dark eyes that glinted in purple studying her. “What is the real reason?”
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“Why not?”
“You’ll use it against me.”
“Valid.” He laughed. “Quite valid. Very well, keep your secrets.” He shrugged. “But the fact of the matter is this—the reason we are going to return to the story havingnotenjoyed this little vignette of mine has nothing to do with the fact that I am theVillainof this story and that I have placed you and your sister into this predicament?”
She paused. There wasn’t any point in lying. He could see it written all over her face. “No.”
“Good. And you are not ashamed of what we did?”
Wincing, she looked away. “Maybe a little.”
“I can settle for that.” He clapped his hands together in front of him, startling her so badly she jumped. “Shall we return to Sherlock’s London, then? I am so very eager to see how you will handle the morning after with our professor.”
“That’s…it?” She stared at him dubiously.
“Well, you said ‘no.’ I’m not going to force you.” He planted his hands on his hips. “Unless you want me to be that kind of villain, in which case, I’ll have to make you sign a waiver...or something of the like.”
“No! No. That’s fine—” She said that a little too quickly. Her cheeks went hot as she knew she was blushing.
“Mmm. Maybe youdowant me to be that kind of villain...” His voice lowered to a deep purr. “Something to explore another time.You are clearly too distracted with whatever epiphany you’ve just had.”
Epiphany. The real reason she didn’t want to go another round with him. The reason that her stomach was twisted in knots. It had nothing to do with shame. It had nothing to do with morals.
It had everything to do with the fact that if she was herself? If she was Sasha? Then she wantedVile.Not the priest he was wearing.
And that wasn’t what she had tricked herself into thinking when she’d walked into that rented flat in the story. It wasn’t about thefiction.It was abouthim.She wanted the danger. Wanted to see what he was capable of if she signed the proverbial waiver.
And that was going to get her into a great deal of trouble.
He held out his hand to her. “Shall we?”
“Not going to drop me this time?” She arched an eyebrow at him.
“Well, you and I have reached a different understanding.” He kept his hand outstretched. “Come, darling.”
This was such a massive mistake. But, like Charlie Brown with the football, she reached out her hand to take his. And as he grasped her, his hand ceased to be human.
Heceased to be human.
Too many eyes. The darkness had too many purple eyes staring at her. Staringthroughher.
Ink, the color of black tar, swallowed her whole.
She didn’t even have the chance to scream that time.
* If one’s kink is shame, how does kink shaming work? Hm. -V
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Sasha woke up to the sound of a violin.
