Page 130 of Kingmakers, Year Three

“Then tell me what you need! Tell me what to do, how to make it up to you! What will it take for you to forgive me?”

Cat looks up at me with a quizzical expression.

“Do you really mean that?” she says.

“Yes! Yes, I mean it.”

“You want to prove to me that you’re sorry?”

“Yes, I told you that a hundred times.”

“Alright then,” she says, folding her arms across her chest. “I want a month.”

I stare at her, at her pale face and stubborn jaw.

“A month?”

“That’s right. I gaveyoua month once. Now I want the same in return. A month of you obeying my every command.”

I can’t help the smile tugging the corner of my lips. “That doesn’t sound so bad . . .”

“Don’t be so sure,” Cat says sternly.

“And at the end of the month we can start over again?”

“Maybe,” she says, still frowning at me.

Maybe is better than no.

“What’s the first order, boss?” I grin.

“You can carry my books,” she says, dumping them into my arms. “Walking five feet behind me.”

“No problem,” I say. “This is my favorite view.”

“And don’t talk,” Cat snaps, over her shoulder.

I follow Cat to her next class, silent and obedient.

It’s a good thing she can’t see me, because my cock is already rock hard, watching that cute little ass stomping away five steps ahead of me.

Over the next week,Cat dredges up every bit of humiliation I put her through and heaps it back on my head.

She makes me dash around running errands for her until my head is spinning. She orders me to feed her grapes in the dining hall like I once did to her, and even demands that I strip off my shirt and fan her with a folded pop quiz, like she’s Cleopatra and I’m an Egyptian concubine.

It’s not the ideal time for me to look like a fucking idiot, since Vanya Antonov was already trying to siphon off as many of my friends as possible, and Bodashka, Pasha, and Valon have joined him in openly mocking me.

Cat has forbidden me from fighting any of them.

She says I’m not supposed to lose my temper whatsoever.

You might as well ask a shark not to swim.

I’m fucking drowning in all the aggression I have to stuff back down inside of me, every time Vanya throws another jeer in my direction.

The only silver lining is that Bram is still sitting next to me at Cat’s table, seeming to find the whole thing amusing and even slightly admirable.

“Wish I had someone to do weird kinky shit with at lunch,” he says, stuffing half a bacon sandwich in his mouth.

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