I shiver, feeling my nipple pucker against his palm.
Yelping when he twirls me around like we’re dancing, I suddenly find my back pressed against his front once more. His face tucks into my neck so I can feel his breath, and his hand settles more comfortably against my breast.
“When will I see you again?” I arch my throat as I revel in this new intimacy.
We were naked in bed, and this is very different but lovely just the same.
“I’ll text you.”
Shit. That means not tonight.
He sighs like he heard my thought. “Tell me when you receive another invitation?”
“Is this oneyou can attend?”
“No.”
My shoulders slump. “Oh.”
His thumb caresses the peaked bud. “It’s nothing you can’t handle. You play chess, right?”
My brow furrows. “It’s a game of chess?”
“No. But it’s like it. A game of strategy, rather than one with any danger.”
“They want to see how our minds work?”
“Especially in a team.”
“Why?”
He grits his teeth, hard enough for me to hear his jaw pop. “They’ll pair you with someone who matches you. That could be your partner.”
“I’m not going to marry them, Maxim,” I grouch, hissing when he rubs my nipple again.
It’s not my first grope—that’s one of the reasons I figured I’d wait for a man who knew what he was doing with my burgeoning sexuality—but I like how he holds me, how his hand hasn’t moved. It’s both dominant and protective.
“The last rite is something that makes you dependent on that partner. If you can’t fulfill it, then you won’t join.”
“They cut the numbers during the second ritual?”
“Yes.”
“How many typically get through?”
“There’s no standard answer. It depends on what they determine about you in the second round.”
“Should I be scared?”
“No. There’s no need. You’ve already done enough. Now, play your little mind games—which I know you love doing anyway—and if there’s anymore blood in need of shedding, talk to me.”
I twist my head to stare up at him. “You’re talking like I won’t see you for a while!”
“I won’t be here every day,” he soothes. “But I’ll be back for the weekends. Set a date, Victoria.”
Moaning as he pinches my nipple in a sharp farewell, I pant once he releases his hold on me. “When’s the first gala you need me to attend?”
“Next week.”
