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“Tell me again if you don’t mind.” Victor tapped my empty coffee cup with the remote. He grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Go on. Don’t be shy. After all, there’s no secrets between us.”
There he went with the cryptic crap again.
Yesterday, I would probably have had a panic attack and overcompensated with some heavy-handed confession of wanting Ily in pieces.
Today, I merely shrugged and released a part of my untameable darkness. “Fine. I drank her sadness.”
“Why?”
“Why? I don’t know. Why do we like the things we like? I’ve always been drawn to tears. Probably another throw-back to my fucked-up childhood.”
“Oh? How interesting.” Victor took a bite of his mini blueberry danish. “Please…do continue.”
Ignoring the guests and their judging eyes, I said, “My mother would never touch me…unless she was crying. The nights when she sobbed for no apparent reason were the nights she actually looked to me for comfort. She never went as far as to hug me, but she did tolerate me to hug her. I guess you could say my adolescent mind figured I needed tears to feel affection, and the adult part of me morphed that into something sexual.”
“An understandable conclusion.” Victor nodded. “I always enjoy hearing guests psychoanalyse themselves.” Clicking the remote, he skipped to a short silent video of Ily trapped in my hold, wedged against the bookcases, our eyes locked as I whispered something with far, far too much emotion.
Shit, had I truly entrapped her that tightly? Whispered that fiercely? Passion dripped from my every word and motion. The way I looked at her blazed with possession even then. And the way she looked at me…
I paused and assessed the quick knot in my gut.
She looked at me as if terrified but also willing to trust. The way her mouth twisted and eyes widened. The way her bare skin glowed as I cupped her throat and hissed into her ear.
I hadn’t been able to see her gaze then.
But I saw it now.
Saw the flash of heat. The heaviness of her lashes as I nuzzled against her neck and said whatever stupid thing I said.
“And this?” Victor paused the video.
At least it had no sound.
No way to know all the broken promises I’d made or the jumped to conclusions she believed.
“Merely a silly little game.” I didn’t shake or sweat. I had nothing to hide now. Sure, I was a fraud yesterday, but this morning, I was one hundred percent one of them—an unredeemable, irreprehensible bastard—and I no longer suffered shame because of it.
“I told her that I wanted to—”
“Let Ily tell it.” Victor held up a hand, pointing the remote at my jewel frozen on the grass. “Sweetling…?”
Ily swallowed hard and refused to look at me. Slowly, she raised her chin. “H-He said he wanted to make me his in every possible way. To tear me apart. T-To bleed me and drink down every drop.”
My eyebrows rose.
Her memory was impressive.
The fact I’d tasted her blood made me shiver.
Her willingness to lie for me had almost brought me to my knees in the library. But here, in the bright light of a wonderful new day, I just pitied her.
All those lies I said under the guise of truth. All that honesty I spoke under the cloak of fibs. If I had my way, I wanted every despicable thing I’d confessed to come true. The tart pinch of her despair already coated my tongue, making me goddamn starving.
“Thank you, my pet. That was almost verbatim.” Victor nodded with a sharp edge. “Almost as if you were reading from a rehearsed script.”
Ily’s gaze snapped to Victor’s.
Mine narrowed.
Was that a lucky guess, or was he fishing?
Sighing happily, as if he enjoyed toying with us, he pressed the remote again.
The next scene made me flush with embarrassment.
A few guests chuckled. One even commiserated. “Don’t worry, Ward. I threw up the first day I gave in, too.”
“Pussy,” another whispered.
Victor merely waited for me to explain.
I scowled at the image of me on my hands and knees, dripping wet with the shower raining and my fingers clutching at the tiles. My back arched to hurl. My face tortured with nauseous misery. I didn’t need the video to show that my cock still glistened from being inside Ily the first time.
Tied to the maypole.
Taken so damn hard because the moment I sank inside her, I couldn’t stop.
Ily sucked in a breath on the lawn.
My skin itched.
I didn’t want her seeing that.
But then again, she’d already seen me at my weakest. Acted along with me at my dumbest. She’d not only obeyed me, but I had a sneaking suspicion she felt sorry for me.
My fingers dug into my biceps as I crossed my arms tighter. I went to lie. To blame something I ate or jet lag or exhaustion, but…I didn’t want to lie anymore. Not because five guards inconspicuously joined us on the deck, fanning out with their hands hovering over concealed weapons but because I’d changed last night and didn’t want to undo that change.
