Page 11 of Tell Me You Like It

A murmur ripples through the crowd, but I’m too horrified to take much notice. Is this guy serious? Did he just order me like a hamburger off a fast food menu?

Oh. Hell. No.

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can even squeak out a syllable, Roman pulls the necklace he’s wearing over his head and places it over mine. When he does that, a waft of spicy-scented air washes over me, and goddamn, this guy smells good. I inhale against my will, taking the scent into my lungs. He releases the necklace, and I feel the weight of it around my neck, the cold round pendant falling just above my cleavage.

I glance at Bree, and she just stares back at me, wide-eyed, like she can’t comprehend what’s happening right now.

Yeah, girl, same.

Turning back to Roman, I blink up at him, lifting the necklace to take it off. “Um, no, thanks. I’m good.”

Literal gasps trickle throughout the room, and I drop the necklace, leaving it in place around my neck. The gasps are my first clue that I’ve fucked up somehow, but the look that instantly flashes across Roman’s face also clues me in. Shock. Annoyance. Anger. I get the feeling this guy isn’t toldnovery often. I wonder if he even knows the meaning of the word.

His reaction is only visible on his face for a split second. An instant later, the anger on his face melts into amusement, his full lips turning up into a faint smile. Is he really amused, or is he just trying to save face in front of all these people?

Lifting a hand, he takes my chin between his thumb and the crook of his finger. He towers over me. My curvy five-foot-six frame is nothing to his muscular six-foot-two or three, and I can’t help it, I’m intimidated.

I’m frozen in place, unable to move. My heart is beating so hard, I’m afraid it might fly right out of my chest and start flopping around on the inlaid floor.

With my chin still in his grip, he looks directly into my eyes—imprisoning me with his hard stare. Then he leans in and whispers in my ear, his rough voice grating against my eardrum. “You’re in my snare, Little Rabbit. I’ve caught you, and now you’re mine.”

The way he saysyou’re mine, with that deep, gravely baritone, sends a hot ember of desire skipping down my spine.Ugh, fuck. I hate myself for that reaction. I’m no better than the rest of the hopefuls in this room, fighting for a sliver of his attention. Excited just to get a second look from him.

What’s wrong with me?

Swallowing, I twist my head, ripping my chin out of his grip. “I don’t belong to anyone.” Thankfully, my voice doesn’t shake. I actually sound defiant, which is exactly the vibe I’m going for.

He laughs a little, just a puff of air that signifies his amusement. “We’ll see about that.”

I open my mouth to say something snarky back, but I feel Bree's hand on my arm, and it stops me. With a slight shake of her head, I get the message that I’m out of my depth. But instead of placating this guy, I just push out a breath, and do my best to look bored. I know guys like this, and they thrive on power and control.

I’m not giving him that.

I’m not giving himme.

Finally, he moves away, his attention snagged by someone else, and I release the breath I’d been holding. Dear God, even in this giant room, Roman Rush manages to take up every square inch of space. Even as I watch him walk away, wending through the crowd of people, laughing at something someone is saying—everyone’s eyes are still on him.

The guy with the stick calls everyone to attention again. “Jackson McKinight will now make his selection.”

I’m still shaking a little when Bree and Wyn pull me out of the room, and into the foyer where it's empty and we can talk in relative privacy. Thankfully, everyone’s focus is on Jackson now as he recites his chant.

Wyn’s eyes are wild with disbelief. “I can’t believe you just tried to turn down Roman Rush.”

“Girl, he ordered me like a milkshake. Who even does that? I mean, seriously.” I’m not even trying to keep my voice down—not that it matters, because everyone is completely focused on the ceremony that’s happening in the next room.

“That was insane,” Bree says. “Can he even do that? Pick someone who isn’t a member?”

Wyn makes a face. “I mean, yeah, technically.”

“What’s that mean,technically?” I ask.

“It doesn’t happen very often. Almost never, in fact. But there’s nothing in the bylaws that says he can’t do it.”

I start pacing, hands on my hips. “Okay, well, that would have been a really helpful memo. When they invited us to this thing, they conveniently left out the concubine part. Which, by the way, isthe most important part.”

“Consort,” Wyn corrects.

“Same difference.” I grab the gold pendant that’s hanging from the chain around my neck. I don’t even knowwhat it is. I didn’t see it before Roman put it on me. “Maybe I can just give it back.”

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