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I nodded. “I know that too.”
“What do you want?” She whispered, her lips trembling.
“I’m not sure,” I whispered back, stepping in closer.
Uncertainty lingered in her eyes but the magnetic pull between us intensified. Neither she nor I could deny what was happening.
“Why isn’t anyone out there surprised at what you are?”
She looked toward the stage, a sad look in her eye. “Because I make them forget.”
“And why haven’t I?”
“I don’t know,” she whimpered, almost on the verge of tears.
I stepped closer, pressing my body to hers. “I won’t hurt you.”
"Why?" she finally asked, her voice soft but guarded.
“Why won’t I hurt you?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Do you want me to?” I asked, the vision of her strapped to that stage chair, a flogger in my hand crossed my mind.God, I was a sick fuck.
“I-I don’t know. I don’t know anything right now. Most men run at this point,” she looked left, then right, as if wanting to escape but not knowing how to.
“Why do they do that?” I asked, taking her hands and placing them on my chest.
“They usually find me disgusting, and they don’t want to touch a shifter. I make them forget me at my Master’s request.”
Her Master, being Serge Bastien. I tilted her chin up, my fingers brushing against her skin like a whispered promise. "I'm not most men and I don’t find you disgusting. I find you utterly captivating."
Her eyes widened, searching mine in bewilderment. Gently, I traced the outline of her face with my fingertips, marveling at the delicate features that seemed almost too perfect to be real. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," I whispered, my voice hoarse with lust.
Her eyes continued to glow that amber light in the dark space and the whole world seemed to fade around us. The pull between us was strong and it not only filled me with need, but also guilt.
A picture of my wife rocking my daughter to sleep flashed before my eyes, and it cleared the fog out instantly. I quickly pulled away, needing to gain some space between us, but not enough that I wasn’t touching her. Her chest rose and fell against mine, and she smelled of lavender and vanilla.
“I want to see you again. Tell me I can see you again.”
“Why?” she whispered, confused.
I smiled, my gaze locked with hers. "Because there's something about you that I can't ignore. I’d be crazy if I did."
“That, you definitely are. Most men have to pay to see me.”
“I’ll pay anything.”
She slid her hands up the leather of my jacket and she smiled sadly. “I doubt you have the means for what I cost.”
“How much do you cost, little bird?”
I traced her cheek, sliding my hand around her neck, my thumb playing along her jawline.
“Millions,” she whispered.
“How much wouldyoucharge me?” I leaned in, sliding my nose along her neck, unable to keep myself from touching her, and loving the sound of her whimper.
