Page 31 of Meet Me In The Dark

I trust you, he'd said.

We, he’d said.

The large, old-world restaurant gave way to a long, dark hallway. Heavy walnut doors with old fashioned brass knobs lined each wall, with names above them: Ravage. Pillage. Provoke. Submit.

Sex dens. These were private rooms for people to fuck in who didn't want an audience.

Trap, her brain insisted. And still an unknown one.

No choice, she told it.

Finally, they stopped in front of a door that said Sacrifice. Victor withdrew a small brass key that matched the knob and inserted it into a small lock, turning it to the right. Kara swallowed but squared her shoulders.

“After you, my dear,” he said, holding out his arm.

“I think you'll go first,” Micah said pleasantly.

Although Victor tried not to show it, he stiffened slightly, likely out of fear. He didn't reply as he entered the room.

Kara followed, Micah barely a foot behind her.

The room was small, and if the materials used to decorate it hadn't been so expensive, it would have looked tacky. As it was, it was grossly ostentatious.

The walls were a dark brown leather, upholstered like a Chesterfield couch. Three of them, at least: The fourth was one long mirror, like a dance studio. The rest of the room was bare—no BDSM or sex club accoutrements like sawhorses or St. Andrews' crosses, things Kara had never tried out with the guys and honestly, they didn't need them for the sex to be hot and raw and perfect, because the sex was hot and raw and perfect, and god, how she wished that Luke and Conor were here instead of this man. They could make use of the large, four poster bed with its gawdy red satin comforter and gold percale sheets.

“A room fit for a king!” Victor announced, triumph in his eyes.

“And who's the king?” Kara murmured, even though she knew better.

Micah shook his head at her, and Victor's eyes flashed. But he decided to laugh it off, as if she'd said the most hilarious thing in the world instead of a softly lobbed insult.

“Victor, I think it’s time you cut the bullshit and tell us what you want from us for your information,” Micah said.

This wasn't like him. His face was tense, his hands deceptively casual in his pockets, but bullshit was Micah's middle name. Something was setting him off. What was he sensing that she was missing?

She had to continue to play her part, though.

“Micah,” she pretended to chide.

“Alright,” Victor said, a bit huffily. “So you have to understand, I've been doing business with the Johnathans for years. Christopher is one of my dearest friends. But they've of course, done awful things, and I couldn't sleep at nightwithout setting things right. I’d sleep better knowing I helped free innocent men, and allowed a group of lovers to live their lives without the specter of constant danger.”

“For a price,” Kara said.

He nodded. “For a price.”

“From what I understand, Marcus already paid you.”

“Yes, yes.” Victor waved this off. “I have all the money I need. But there's something a man like me needs...more. You see, Ms. Blum, all I heard from Christopher was how this woman was driving him to distraction. One of his students, you see. Brilliant. A redhead. Desperately in love with him. Nothing out of the ordinary for Chris's conquests. But there was something about this one...when she 'destroyed his life' and left, he was still obsessed. At first, I thought it was revenge, but when he targeted her other lovers, it became clear this was not about revenge. No, this was about an almost manic need to possess her again.”

Her stomach roiled. Micah wrapped an arm around her waist, settling her once again.We're in this together, his arm seemed to say.

“Now, I was surprised, and curious. Christopher has never felt particularly passionate about anything beyond his own ego. So, this woman, well, she had to be something special. I was even more sure of this when I learned three of the strongest, smartest, most disciplined men in the world had lost their own minds over her as well. And well, I decided it was time to see for myself.”

Kara's face was burning. She had to force her breathing to stay slow. Not out of panic, but rage. She didn't want to be known this way, as nothing more than some siren leading men to their destruction. She was more than her sex appeal and her goddamned vagina. How was she back here?

As if he heard her thought, Micah stroked her hip. Hemight as well have said it out loud:You are more than a femme fatale to us. You have worth beyond sex. You are everything to us, remember?

She remembered.

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