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“What are you doing?” I ask, more curious than afraid.
He places the lighter onto the stone slabs of the floor, and I watch the small orange cone flicker and wink beside us.
It’s as though neither of us is breathing.
When Rory reaches his hands out toward my ankle, I don’t expect it. I don’t even feel it, I’m so wrapped up in my racing thoughts before I notice the press of his thumbs against my delicate tendons.
His fair hair falls in front of his eyes, and then he shakes it away as he gazes up at me.
I’m slumping against the wall. All I want to do is slide down, to give in, to stop having to be strong and able to hold myself upright.
But I never expected this. Is this Rory’s idea of assent?
As he massages my ankles, he gazes up at me. I can’t take it. It’s too intimate. It’s thrown me wildly off course and I don’t know how to proceed.
But despite the gentleness of his touch, his voice is hard when he speaks to me next.
“I want you to dance for me.”
I just did, I want to say, but I’ve lost my voice. I’ve lost my voice and gained a rush of new feelings I never anticipated as I stare at the boy in front of me.
But there’s a thread of possession there, dark and twining, and I understand the meaning from his tone alone.
“I want you to danceonlyfor me.”
I swallow, finding it difficult to maintain focus when Rory’s thumbs are swirling so softly against my skin.
It’s a far cry from Finlay saying he found it kinda hot when I danced for the others.
No. Rory is the complete opposite of Finlay. I see that now. I see that in the glimmer of his dark gray eyes and the firm press of his unsmiling mouth. There is no boyish laughter here, only the threat of possession and someone who’s been high on power since he was born.
“And if I say yes?” I ask, though there’s no point when I’m about to submit to him anyway.
He fascinates me. I’m twisted and strange, but so too is Rory to make deals like this in the dark.
He utterly fascinates me in a way that none of the others do.
“Then I know your terms. Justice for all womankind,” he says, with barely a hint of mockery. “Give me yourself, and the rest will remain unharmed.”
It’s a bargain. Another bargain within a bargain, because that’s politics, I’ve come to realize. Negotiation is the only thing that makes up politics, and when you appeal to the person with the most power in the room, then they’re able to drive bigger and more brilliant bargaining.
Submit myself to save the others.
Is it a sacrifice when part of me, I believe, would do it willingly?
The dark part of myself that first laid eyes on Rory and thought maybe, maybe there’s a chance…
The part of me that looks at every hint of aristocracy that twists and twines through his DNA like a ribbon, and all I want is to be bound up in it.
All I want… is to see the other side.
But I don’t give him an answer.
The universe answers for me instead.
From the main hall beside us, there’s the unquestionable sound of the wooden doors slamming shut with a heavy, brute force.
Rory, still crouched at my feet, gazes up at me with widening silver eyes, his sensual mouth parting.
And then, unexpectedly, comes the sound of three separate bangs.
Bang — bang — bang.
Gunfire.
