I pause, fingers wrapping in irritation around a length of chain hanging from the wall. I let the metal dig into my palm, squeezing my fist to alleviate the tension winding tight inside me. “How so?” I sneer.
“Well . . .” Out of the corner of my eye, I see him lean back on the bed, stretching an arm behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling. “It seems to me Aamon has treated you to a whole new wardrobe—”
“Becausesomeonedisposed of the only clothes I had and never gave them back,” I argue. He ignores me, continuing down his list.
“Sterling fed you this morning. Pancakes even, which is his specialty. He only whips those up when it's a holiday or when someone's pet has died.”
“I wasn’t aware the Blood Order was in the habit of keeping pets,” I huff, continuing on my path around the edge of the room.
“Only you,” he mocks when I’m finally back in his view.
It takes everything in me to not lunge at him. But what good would it do? I’d get one punch in,maybe,before he’d have me on my back, tearing into my flesh.
My skin pricks with the thought, a chill running through my core that is quickly chased away by a heat I hate to admit is steadily building inside me.
“And then there’s that,” he hums, sitting up and removing his mask so I can see his eyes raking over me.
“There’s what?” I ask, acting like I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“Not once buttwicenow we’ve curbed your appetite, Angel. Serviced that needy little cunt of yours while asking for nothing in return.” I balk at his words, completely caughtoff guard by his bluntness. “Seems like an odd way to tend to a prisoner, does it not?”
I want to slap the smugness off his face. Want to take that shit-eating grin and force the shock back onto him that he’s triggered in me. I use every shred of self-control I have to compose myself, turning my nose up in the air and starting a second lap around the room.
“I don’t know what thiswebusiness is,” I say after a moment of silence. And I can tell I have his attention now. “If memory serves me correctly”—I let a sly grin tease at the edge of my lips—“Sterling is the only one I’ve allowed the pleasure of warming my bed more than once.”
I stop when I’m back in front of the wall of tools, toying with a set of leather cuffs attached to a bolted ring in the wall. “Feeling left out, Quentin?” I huff out a laugh, looking over at him through lowered lashes. The look on his face is exactly what I’m hoping to see, the shock in his features as he realizes I’m not one to sit back and be continuously tossed around by these males. That I can hold my own.
That I’m not as weak as they think I am, even though I know it’s a lie.
I don’t hide my smirk, making sure he gets a full view. But when I blink, he’s no longer perched on the edge of the bed, gawking at me. He’s right in front of me, eliciting a shriek. I fall back against the wall, sending the selection of toys and tools clanking against each other—a few falling to the ground around our feet.
“You know what I think, Angel?” His breath is warm as it feathers across my face. I try to move further back still, but there’s no more room for retreat. His hands move slowly towards my body, landing at my sides. I freeze at his touch. His long fingers wrap around both of my wrists. His touch is soft but stern as he guides them up above my head.
“I’m going to show you exactly how it feels to be a prisoner.” He pushes my arms back against the wall, letting the leather brush against the back of my hands. The sensation sends a jolt straight to my core, betraying myself to him. I can see it in the way his nostrils flare, the way his smile deepens. “And you’re going to tell me exactly what I want to know while I enjoy the look of you bound before me.”
“Quinn,” I breathe, trying to come up with an excuse for him to stop. But my mind is suddenly blank of all words that have ever existed.
“That is, unless you’d rather return to the market? Or the clubhouse perhaps?” He pauses, waiting for my reply. I think about returning to my new cage. How little I desire to go back to the grief and pain and anger that has possessed me this past week.
I shake my head, hesitating mid-motion before continuing more adamantly. I don’t want to leave, for a myriad of reasons, but the largest one being that I do actually want this—gods help me.
“Good,” he murmurs, wrapping the leather around my wrist with surprising ease. “And because I consider myselfa fair individual, I’ll allow you a question for a question." He secures the second cuff around my other wrist, and my stomach drops when he takes a step back. Cold air rushes over my body at the sudden absence.
“I’ll even allow you the first turn,” he purrs. I fidget, testing the restraints. Suddenly I’m wondering how I even let myself get here. I don’t want to answer his questions, and I sure as fuck don’t want to be tied up under his complete control.
My body tenses, and for several terrifying moments we just watch each other. My fingers ball into firsts as my mind works to weigh my options. I don’t know what spurs me forward, but I hear the word, “Fine,” slipping past my lips before I’ve fully come to terms with my current predicament.
He tries not to show his surprise, but I see the glimmer of delight in his cerulean eyes.
I steel myself, hardening my features till I’m sure I’m hiding as much of my desire for the male before me as I possibly can. “First question. How does this work?”
He chuckles. “You’re going to have to be more specific with your questions, Angel. Or you’re going to waste a lot of turns in this game.” He scratches at the scruff on his jaw. And I find myself suddenly wondering what it would feel like to have that same scruff tickling my cheek, my neck, prickling against my thighs. I clamp down against the restraints, forcing myself to remain guarded.
“I mean—” I try again, telling myself to grow up and spit out the words circling in my mind. “You and Sterling. With me.”
“You mean like the other night?” He cocks his head to the side. I guess that question has taken him by surprise. I don’t know what he was expecting me to ask, but it definitely wasn’t that. I nod.
“We share.” Quinn shrugs as if that’s the most nonchalant statement in the world.
