Page 20 of The Puppetmaster

Chapter 12

Raad

Even the way she climbs back on her feet is enticing to me. There’s an eagerness to please behind every movement, spiced with that sassy defiance with which she keeps poking the beast. I don’t like brats and I hope to God that this attitude is just born out of the desire to attract my attention and lure out the Master she wants me to be to her.

But that’s not how it works, Alena, not even for you.

She stands before me, her back straight and her shoulders just a tad tense—and she’s fuckingsmiling. It’s a victorious smile too, as if she thinks she has won.

“Wipe that fucking smile off of your face,” I snarl at her.

“Or else...?” she teases, tilting her head to the side as she winks at me again.

I’m schooling her and she dares to fuckingwinkat me?

The smile leaves her face a moment later when my hand flies up to her throat, my fingers closing around it so quickly that she doesn’t stand a chance of evading me.

Not that she’s trying to.

She remains firm, not even taking the smallest step back as my hand closes around her neck. I’m not choking her, and if she really wanted to, she could easily get away from me.

It’s a warning, both a threat and a promise.

It’s also a touch. Skin against skin. Something I swore I would never do with a girl before she was chosen to become my puppet.

I shudder at that realization, feeling the ice-cold shock of not following my own rules running down my spine.

And yet I don’t move my hand away. I can feel her pulse throbbing beneath my palm, and it causes me to tighten my grip a little, following the need to be closer to her.

Her eyes widen, and I believe to see some fear in them. Some sweet, delicious fear. But it’s not just that. She’s intrigued, curious, anticipating my next move, while there’s still a hint of triumph dancing in her expression.

I fucking hate that last part.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” I seethe, squeezing her throat so that the essence of pain flutters across her face for a split second. “You’re not the one making the rules here, Alena. You’re not in the position to fucking tease me like that and expect me to punish you in return, a punishment you seek, a punishment you enjoy. That’s not what punishment is about, and that isnotwhat I’m going to do to you today. If you expect me to bend you over and give you a proper spanking until you come because you’re acting like a little brat in front of me, then you’re wrong and you clearly don’t understand how this is going to work.”

Her eyebrows knit in a crease, and she replaces the sass with a kiss of annoyance when she responds, “Okay. I understand, sir.”

She puts an emphasis on that last word that doesn’t sit well with me. It doesn’t sound honest and demure like it should, but rather like she’s mocking me.

Her lips part, silently calling for me to come closer to meet them with mine. And for a moment, I follow the call like a fool sailing toward the siren’s song. I lean in closer, our noses almost touching and her warm breath dancing across my skin as I lose myself in the depth of her green-blue eyes.

Almost, Alena, almost.

I give her a little push before I withdraw my hand from her neck, forcing her to stumble back a step, her arm flailing around as she tries to maintain her stance.

“I swore not to touch you tonight,” I confess. “Inevertouch a girl when I’m on the hunt and haven’t yet chosen her to be mine. I don’t do that. Ever.”

“You just did,” she reminds me, reaching up to her throat and gently massaging the place where my hand lay just a few moments ago. Her expression is stoic and attentive, but no longer defiant.

“You just touched me,” she elaborates. “Why do you break so many rules when it comes to me? I signed up late, yet you let me show up—”

“Miss Barry made that decision.”

She huffs. “Maybe. But you didn’t revoke it, did you? You didn’t cross my name off the list when you found out, and Miss Barry must have told you because how else would you know my name?”

I pin her down with a menacing look, rage blazing through my chest.

I know your fucking name because I’ve known it for years, dear Alena. I know it because I have watched you, because I needed to know where you were at all times, and if Mr. Hammond hadn’t fucked up—as he obviously did—you wouldn’t be here tonight. Not yet, not today. That was never the plan.

---