Page 45 of Kingmakers, Year Three

Dean reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. He holds it between his thumb and index finger, letting it drop and hang suspended from his hand.

A strip of leather with a single metal ring in the center.

A collar.

“I want you willing,” he says softly. “I want you obedient. And I want you completely under my control. For one month. From now until Christmas.”

“And after that?”

“Then you’re free. I’ll never bother you again. And your secret is safe forever.”

I consider this carefully, the collar swinging before my eyes like a hypnotist’s watch.

I don’t take his offer lightly.

Dean’s games are not like other people’s games.

Everything he does is deadly serious.

If he wants a pet, then that’s exactly how he’ll treat me. As an animal that belongs to him.

On the other hand, if he says it’s over at the end of a month . . . I believe that, too.

Whatever else he may be, Dean is not a liar. He’ll keep his word.

“Yes.” The word is barely more than a breath of air.

Dean hears it all the same and his eyes gleam with triumph. It’s the look in the devil’s eyes when some poor soul accepts his bargain.

I almost snatch back my agreement, but it’s too late. Dean is already drawing the collar taught between his hands.

“Take off your clothes.”

“W-what?”

“Strip,” he orders. “I want to see what I’m getting.”

I gape at him in horror.

The music throbs from the speaker, ordering me to obey just as much as Dean’s imperious stare.

He’s not joking. He’s never joking.

Slowly I obey.

I pull the sweater over my head, dropping it down on the dusty floor. Then I begin to unbutton my blouse. My heart is jittering in my chest, and yet somehow my fingers are steady. I unfasten each button in turn, then take off the blouse and drop it down on top of the sweater.

I unzip my skirt and let it fall. I step clear of the puddle of fabric, standing in my underwear before a man for the very first time.

My bra and panties are plain cotton, unmatched—the bra gray and the underwear blue. I’m still wearing my knee socks and shoes, because there’s nowhere to sit and I don’t want to hop on one foot trying to take them off.

Dean doesn’t seem to care about the socks. His eyes are fixed on my body alone.

“Underwear, too.”

I have never been naked around another human in my adult life. I don’t use the communal showers and I don’t even strip down fully in front of Rakel—we face the opposite wall while changing.

Yet what I feel isn’t embarrassment—it’s curiosity.

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