Page 73 of Serpent King's Prisoner

She busied herself with the clothes I’d bought, laying them out across the bed with a methodical precision that spoke of her need for control. My eyes tracked her movements as she unfolded a silk blouse and then a pair of jeans, creating an organized display of fabrics and colors.

“Alright,” Abby began, her voice breaking the silence between us. “Then we need to figure out details.”

“Agreed,” I said, leaning back on my hands and watching her. “The Red Lantern is our spot then. We met there, got talking, and one thing led to another. We’ve been seeing each other for a whirlwind week after months of flirting.”

She raised an eyebrow but nodded slowly. “It’s not a bad angle. It’s public enough that it’s believable we could have met there, but private enough that not everyone would know about us. And we both had public reasons to be there—me at work, you at the flower shop.”

“Exactly,” I said, the edge of a smile playing on my lips.

Abby paused, considering, then continued, “That should work. I don’t broadcast my life to my friends. They won’t question it too much.”

Her gaze was distant for a moment, lost in thought, and I wondered what kind of walls she’d put up around her life before all of this.

“Good,” I replied, feeling a coil of satisfaction unwind within me. The less her friends knew, the better. It meant fewer holes in our story, fewer chances for everything to come crashing down around us.

And I couldn’t afford that—not with so much at stake.

I watched her pick through the clothes again before she paused, a frown creasing her brow. “But what about the Red Lantern? I can’t just disappear from work without an explanation.”

“Already taken care of,” I said, a hint of impatience in my voice. “I texted your boss from your phone and gave notice this morning.”

Her eyes snapped up to mine, blazing with anger so raw it could’ve cut glass. “You did what?” Abby’s voice was tight, a dangerous calm before the storm.

“I made a decision,” I said, meeting her fury head-on. My own temper flared, hot and quick as a struck match. “You have a job, Abby. And that’s to be my plaything.”

The words were harsh, even to my own ears, but they hung between us like a challenge. I could see the flicker of defiance in her gaze, the unwillingness to bend.

But then she squared her shoulders, her expression hardening as she looked me dead in the eye.

With deliberate slowness, she reached down and grasped the hem of her t-shirt, pulling it over her head in one fluid motion. The fabric whispered against her skin, a soft sound in the growing tension of the room.

She didn’t break eye contact, not even as she shimmied out of the sweats that hung loose on her hips.

I stepped back to look at her, wanting to get an eyeful of her curves…but all I could see were the bruises. They were reminders of my loss of control, a dark testament to the world I was born into—a world that demanded violence.

I made a promise to myself right then and there that I would never hurt her again.

“Which one do you want to see first?” Her voice cut through the silence, a clear note in the heavy air between us.

I swallowed hard, pushing down the bile of regret. “The green dress,” I said, my voice rough around the edges. “It’ll bring out your eyes.”

She nodded, her movements measured as she reached for the garment. It was a simple thing, just a slip of emerald silk that seemed too delicate for the gritty reality of our lives. But as she slipped it over her head, the color played against her skin, a stark contrast to the dark marks I had left on her.

“Green suits you,” I said, trying to keep my voice level, but there was no ignoring the pull in my chest as I watched her. Abby turned, giving me a full view, and despite everything, my body reacted, desire winding tight in my belly.

“Good choice,” she said quietly, though I could hear the edge in her tone. My approval mattered to her more than she would admit.

“Turn around for me.” The command slipped out, coated with a ravenous hunger I couldn’t quite rein in.

She did, the fabric clinging to her in all the right places, and I had to bite back a groan. The sight of her like this, vulnerable yet defiant, was a siren call to the darker parts of me. Parts that yearned to claim her, to mark her as mine in every way imaginable.

“Your ass looks fucking incredible wrapped in green silk,” I murmured, the words raw against my throat. “Makes me want to pull it off you and slap that gorgeous ass. Would you like that?”

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, and she turned back to face me, the rise in her chest betraying a quickened breath. “Yes,” she breathed.

“Not right now, though,” I smirked. “I want to see another one—the black one, there.”

She stripped off the green dress, and I made a mental note to ensure I had her wear it at least once—and to slap her ass, just like I’d promised. My fingertips practically vibrated with the anticipation of touching her, feeling how wet I could get her.

---