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“What’s the catch, Ares? I’m not here to play games.”
“Oh, but games are so much fun,” he whispers as his left hand grips my throat, holding me in place. The lump in my throat makes it difficult to swallow, and even though I’m sure he would love to hurt me, I know he won’t. “See how easy it is…” His words trail off, and I shake my head.
“How easy what is?”
“You.” One word, a slam dunk against my chest. “You’re so needy for me, Dahlia. A flower calling to the bee.” His voice is pure lust, but there’s an underlying hint of venom just underneath the taunting whisper.
“Tell me,” I say once I find the words. “Do you enjoy fucking with my head?”
“I’d much rather enjoy fucking your body—”
“Never going to happen,” I bite out, interrupting him.
Ares chuckles, the low vibration in his chest makes the sound gravelly, and I can’t stop my thighs from squeezing together. A few cars are pulling up, and I realize he has to stop this game now or students will see us.
“Do you want them to watch?” He hisses in my ear. “I do enjoy an audience.”
“Fuck you, Ares.”
“Mmmhmm, that’s exactly what I’ll do to you. Deep. Hard. Rough.” With every enunciated word, his fingers press harder around my throat, making air difficult to pull in. My eyes flutter as my body turns hot and needy. He’s right. He can read my body like a goddamned book.
“Let me go.”
“Why? Aren’t those pretty panties wet for me?” He taunts me as every word tickles the shell of my ear, but I can’t answer. If I do, I’ll admit I want him. I want this. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me, but I can’t find it in me to fight him. “I think the little flower wants her petals plucked by me.”
“In your dreams.”
“No, Dahlia.” His voice hard, angry. “In yours.”
Suddenly, he steps back, leaving me cold and shivering, and it has nothing to do with the weather. I spin on my heel to face him, taking in the satisfied smirk on his face.
“Are you happy now?”
“Quite. But it’s not over.” He smiles. “Soon, when you learn all about your precious dad, I’ll be the one who you’ll beg to make you forget.”
I’m about to ask what he means when Rukaiya races up to me, not noticing the tension in the air between Ares and me.
“Later, my little flower.”
Soon, he’s far enough away, and I can breathe. When he’s too close, it’s as if my world is filled with Ares Lancaster, and my thoughts are racing. Rukaiya frowns as she takes us both in. “What the hell was that?”
“What?”
“You and Ares Lancaster eye fucking each other like nobody’s watching.” Rukaiya’s voice is higher than I anticipated, causing a few students to glance our way.
“Would you keep your voice down,” I bite out, tugging her along so we’re not in direct line with everyone who can hear her. “We were not eye fucking each other.”
“Oh? So, all that sexual tension that I felt as I walked up was my imagination?” Her golden brow arches as she regards me with a don’t fucking lie to me look on her face.
“We were… It wasn’t eye fucking.” This time, I sigh, knowing she’s right. I’m attracted to him. I can’t deny it, but he’s bad news.
“Come on.” She pulls me along. “Time to get your ass in class, you can tell me all about Mr. Lancaster at lunch.”
My feet follow along. But my mind is still on Ares and the way his hand gripped me masterfully. He’s not old enough to hold that much power, control, or command.
And yet he does.
And he’s lording it over me. One day at a time.
18
Ares
I haven’t stopped smiling. I haven’t stopped thinking about her and our little interaction this morning on the quad. And I certainly haven’t been so hard for any female who’s crossed my path. She’s intoxicating, and I’m dying for another drink.
Strolling down the hallway, I find my father sauntering my way. He’s finished his classes for the day, and I wonder if he’s seen, Dahlia.
“Ares,” he greets, stopping in front of me. “Tonight, the Sovereign want to meet. We have a little job for you and the rest of the new crowns.” My father’s eyes glint with excitement as he regards me.
“What time?”
“Seven,” he responds as his gaze flickers behind me, and when I turn to see what’s caught his attention, I find the pretty flower walking along the quad with her best friend. “Have you had any interaction with her yet?”
Do I tell him?
“Not yet,” I answer, unsure of why I’m lying to my father, but I do. The lie flows without guilt, which sets me on edge.
His gaze darkens when he looks at me again, watching me as a hunter would its prey. “She can’t find out about her father,” he tells me earnestly.
