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Forbidden desires, meant for me and me alone, never to be acted upon.
Because some dark fantasies are too dark to ever really explore, even here.
As if I even could.
I’m leaning against the bar sipping my champagne when I stiffen at a presence that slips in close to me. I turn, swallowing as I look up at a handsome man whose jawline and dark goatee suggest he is perhaps Middle Eastern.
He smirks, his darkeyes beneath his golden mask dropping down over my plunging cleavage and slightly visible nipples before landing on my wrist.
Specifically, the red band with the three gold lines wrapped around it.
I stiffen, my chest constricting as my gaze slips tohiswrist, and a similar band—his red with threeblacklines.
Fuck.
“I was watching you taking in the fun,” he murmurs in an accented voice. He lifts a glass of what smells like scotch, sipping it as his eyes pierce mine. “Were you enjoying yourself?”
Maybe. But good luck getting me to admit that, even to myself.
Instead, I lift a dismissive shoulder.
“It’s not why I come here.”
He grins hungrily, his gaze dropping to my wrist again.
“Then whydoyou come here?”
I swallow uneasily. “I’m meeting someone.”
His face darkens.
“You’re not owned, though.”
What?
When my brow furrows, his eyes narrow.
“You aren’t owned. You don’t belong to anyone.”
I’m still trying to figure out what the hell he’s talking about when he nods his chin at my neck.
“You wear a collar, but it’s unadorned. It has no one’s mark on it. So, little girl,” he growls with an edge to his voice. “All I see is good little pain slut with no Master.”
I gasp as he suddenly moves right into my personal space, sneering down into my suddenly terrified face. I jolt as he grabs my wrist roughly.
“Now, you’ll come with—”
“Take your hands off of me.”
His eyes flash with the anger of a man who is unaccustomed to hearing the word no.
“Let me explain something to you, cunt,” he growls. “You’re in Club Venom, dressed likethat, wearingthison your wrist,” he hisses, nodding at the red and gold bracelet. “So stop playing the brat role and come with me so I can mete out a lesson on your ass—”
“Remove your hand from her, or I’ll remove it from your arm.”
A cold chill jumps up my spine like a blade. Because I know that voice, after studying him for so long. I know the harsh edge to it, the Irish accent. I know the swirling dark power that comes with that voice, just like I can feel it radiating against the bare skin of my exposed back, like a cold, dark wind swirling from the mouth of a black cave.
The man in front of me, still gripping my wrist, scowls.
