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“I’m not a dog.”

Landon narrows his eyes. “Of course you’re not a dog. You’re someone I care about, which is why I’m worried about you.” He leans forward, tightening his hand on my shoulder. “You’ve been through a lot, and you’re drunk and vulnerable right now.”

“I’m only half drunk.”

“Novalee,” he says, voice lowering in warning. “You need a few minutes to pull yourself together.” His attention rests on Sebastian for a moment. “Before you do something you’ll regret.”

“Ford is waiting for me.” My haughty tone makes it clear how little I appreciate his high-handedness.

“You’re in no condition to play Ford’s games right now.”

“I’m fine.” I shrug off his hand and switch direction, taking comfort in the thickening crowd. Ford might not be expecting me right this second, but he is expecting something from me, and I might as well face it while I’m tipsy on my feet.

Passing through the gauzy curtains is like entering an alternate reality, and for a second, I forget how to breathe. If the scene surprised me before, it doesn’t compare to what’s in front of me now.

Naked bodies writhe, rock, and shudder. Implements smack sweat-soaked skin—the impacts brutal enough to echo in my ears. Sighs and pants filter through the space as brave performers reach erotic crescendos. For every participant, three people linger on the edge to watch, and Ford is in the middle of it all, sprawled on a lounger as a group of naked women crawl over him.

Ford Stryker is every inch a king on his throne, enshrined in careless confidence, his pants undone, jacket gone, and shirt unbuttoned to expose a well-defined chest. He spots me standing by the curtain and crooks a finger, beckoning me to join him.

Teeth sinking into my bottom lip, I stall for time, hoping to find the courage to get up there and expose myself to the hungry eyes in the room. Anxiety sends me back a few steps, right into another body. An electric zap hits my spine—a sensation that can only come from one hot-blooded inferno of a man.

“Go on, princess.” His quiet goading teases the wayward tendrils around my ear. “Show everyone how sweet your pussy is.”

My breath catches. “You know what he asked me to do?”

“All of us do.”

Of course they know what Ford’s planning. I was naïve to think his request was something he kept between him and me. Instead, it’s just another power-play move in the Brotherhood’s arsenal.

“Watching me up there…it’ll only upset you.” Despite the haze from the champagne, the reality of what I’m about to do chokes me, and the last thing I want is to make things worse between us.

“You don’t think I’ll get off watching you play with yourself?”

“I think you have a jealous personality.”

“I’m not jealous of Ford.” He leans closer, his breaths caressing my shoulder. “He doesn’t make you weak.”

My heart skips. “No, he doesn’t.”

His hand clamps onto my hip, fingers caressing my skin from under the edge of the lacy slit. “Not like I do.”

“No…” I breathe. “Not like you do.”

“Not even like Liam does.”

“Sebastian.” His name is little more than a whispered plea. “This is hard enough already.”

“You wanna talk about hard things?” He thrusts against my ass, showing me just how hard he is. “See what you do to me? It’s like I’m a goddamn teenager all over again.”

“You pleasured yourself after I left, didn’t you?” My words summon a vivid picture of him in my mind, one muscular arm braced against the wall as he strokes his erect cock in a desperate fist. At the visual, a whimper escapes me.

Sebastian lets out a dark laugh. “Not much pleasure involved without you, princess. More like a devastating explosion. So go up there and be weak for me. Let every man here know who you belong to.”

His gravelly voice is voodoo in my ears, causing my feet to carry me toward the depraved host of this ball. The guests seem to part for me, just like they did for Ford earlier. Armed with intoxication and faux bravery, I climb the makeshift stage, and his harem of women scatter. So does everyone else on-stage.

Apparently, I’m the main show of the night.

Ford reaches for me, hands hot and firm on my skin. “Make yourself comfortable,” he says, yanking me onto his lap. “You’re going to be here a while.”

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