Page 6 of Clarity

The instant nausea that came with resisting his directive surprised me. I’d been warned of what happened when—if—you resisted the compulsion of a vampire with that skill, but that was nothing compared to the consuming, twisting discomfort of it.

He grinned. “You’re gutsy,” he said. “Mentally strong. I like that.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you like,” I ground between my teeth, fists clenched with the exertion ofnotmoving my feet,notclimbing into his lap to feel his dick against me.

The effort was going to tear me apart, it seemed.

Elbows propped on the table, he leaned forward. “That’s fine. Stay there.”

Shit.

Immediately, the tension left my body in response to the shift in his demand. Relief trickled through me, all the way down to my fingers and toes as I unconsciously relaxed into the comfort ofnotresisting.

My brain understood the manipulation, recognized that this was no gift.

He’d slipped the demand in while I was already fighting to stay in place and I couldn’t switch my mental gears fast enough. And now, because of his compulsion, I wasn’t going anywhere.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked, reclining back in the chair with a distinct air of ownership that made my insane lust flare. He pulled his bottom lip in, putting his fangs on display as I shifted painfully in place, trying to ease even the tiniest bit of the pressure between my legs.

Of courseI knew who he was.

Before Celeste was ever invited to cook for Elias’ party, before Cassius ever forced the removal of roses from Ambrosia’s land, I’d known who the Blacks were.

For someone like me, it was impossible not to.

They practically oozed power, clearly among the elite of their kind, dabbling in a level of wealth I was no stranger to.

I dealt in artifacts and antiques, rescuing and retrieving the treasured, obscured… reviled.

Often for a profit.

Among the other dealers I often traded with, the rhetoric was that “rich people wanted weird shit”.

Sometimes, yes.

But sometimes… They just wanted their ancestral relics back.

Like when Elias Black’s assistant, also a vampire, had come to me with a list of things I should offer them first looks at if I ever ran across them. Certain knives, amulets, portraits, rings, books—ostensibly for display at the Black Gallery—but I knew what was up.

I knew exactly what they were.

Besides their distinctive ancestral artifacts, it was one of those things that… honestly even mortals knew, but weren’t sure how to parse because they thought the supernatural was purely fiction.

They couldn’t articulatewhythe Blacks weresoattractive.

Sure, they were big and fine, deep chocolate skin, all that, but there was just something…moreto their appeal. The years and years of wisdom, the power, the…royalty.And even besides that… a sinister quality you knew better than to be attracted to, a warning beacon that there was danger ahead.

Especiallywith this one.

“Parris Black,” I answered.

The “baby” of the family.

“So my reputation precedes me then.” He smirked, pushing up from his seat to stalk toward me.

I wanted nothing more than to escape him, and nothing more than to be touched.

He didn’t though; he stopped just short. “And you knowwhatI am too…” It wasn’t a question. “You’re blocking me out of your head. That’s adorable.”

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