Page 61 of Serpent King's Prisoner

I shrugged, feeling the weight of his shirt shift against my body. “Nothing to watch, I guess. Unless you’re interested in a local business changing your bathroom tiles?” My words were a smokescreen, hiding my dread, my desperation for escape.

He didn’t even crack a smile. “Come here,” he commanded softly, his eyes never leaving mine. There was no trace of the orchid caretaker; only the criminal prince remained.

I rose, stepping toward him, every nerve ending acutely aware of his proximity. His scent, a mix of leather and something uniquely Nathan, filled my senses.

“Are you happy? We had a conversation. Now take off your clothes, Abby. I won’t ask again.”

“Nathan–”

I watched his hands tighten into fists by his sides. This was the angriest I had ever seen him, and I knew better than to tempt fate.

So with tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, and my breath shuddering, I told myself to start undressing.

I just needed to get my fucking hands to listen to me.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Nathan

“Now take off your clothes, Abby. I won’t ask again.”

Abby just stared at me, those green eyes of hers wide and calculating. The silence stretched between us, thick enough to choke on.

I didn’t have time for this. With a flick of my wrist, I shrugged out of my jacket and threw it carelessly onto the back of the sofa. The leather made a soft thud as it landed, the only sound in the otherwise quiet space.

“Did you not hear me?” I growled, my patience hanging by a thread. “I said take off your clothes.”

Her gaze never wavered, locked onto mine with an intensity that matched my own. She stood there, defiant, her fair skin dotted with freckles that seemed to mock me, remind me of what I had to do.

If this was our last night together…I was going to make the most of it.

No matter what she wanted.

“Abby,” I warned, letting her name roll off my tongue like a threat.

Finally, she moved. She reached down and, with a slow deliberateness that was pure torture, peeled her shirt over her head. Her movements were hesitant but laced with a determination that I had come to expect from her. Fear flickered in her eyes, yes, but there was something else too—desire. It sparked in the depths of her gaze, raw and undeniable.

I could almost taste it, that delicious blend of trepidation and want that seemed to emanate from her. It made my blood heat and my cock harden in response. There was something undeniably intoxicating about having such power over someone, watching them yield to you.

But shit, I needed a drink to steady myself. To push back the gnawing feeling that what I was doing was as much for me as it was a part of the twisted game my life had become.

I turned my back on her and stalked over to the locked cabinet by the far wall. The numbers fell under my fingertips easily, a code I’d memorized long ago when I first understood that some secrets needed to be kept even closer than family.

The click of the lock disengaging was like a signal, a starting gun for the chaos that was about to unfold.

I grabbed a bottle of whiskey–no glass, no pretense of civility. Unscrewing the cap, I tipped it back and took a long, searing swig. The liquid burned its way down my throat, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. It grounded me, reminded me I was still here, still in control despite the storm of emotions threatening to break free inside me.

Soon, she would be gone…and it would be business as usual.

I would survive, like I always did.

“Keep going,” I called out without looking at her, the command rough against the edges of my voice. “All of it, Abby.”

I hissed out a breath as the whiskey settled in my stomach, the heat spreading through my limbs. With every second that ticked by, I knew our time was running out. But damn if I wasn’t going to savor every last moment, before the night ended in blood.

I turned around, the heavy bottle of whiskey still in my grasp, and caught sight of Abby standing in the open space of the living room. Naked. Her skin was a canvas of moonlit ivory, dotted with freckles that begged to be traced by the tip of a finger or the brush of a tongue. Her chest heaved with anxious breaths, painting her with a vulnerability that clashed with the fierce determination I’d come to know in her eyes.

“Bedroom,” I ordered, my voice brooking no argument. “Crawl.”

She hesitated for just a moment—a flicker of defiance or maybe contemplation—before sinking to her knees. The sight of her obedience sent a jolt through me that settled heavily in my cock, already hard with desire.

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