Page 58 of The Puppetmaster

“That’s not it,” she whispers shyly, lowering her gaze.

“Look at me when you speak to me,” I reprimand her. “Only liars feel the urge to shy away from eye contact when holding a conversation.”

Her eyelashes are fluttering nervously when she looks back up at me. She bites her lower lip, seemingly fighting to keep the truth in while trying to find other words to satisfy me. She had better not be doing that.

“What is it then?” I urge. “Do I need to whip the truth out of you?”

She smiles coyly and shakes her head. “I don’t think that would work.”

“Oh, trust me, it always does.”

Blood rushes to her cheeks and her eyes shy away for a split second before she remembers my command and returns to looking at me.

“Did you never...” she begins, biting her lips again as if to stop herself from speaking.

“Did I never what?”

“The thing is,” she starts again, “I’m not seeking solace because I want to leave or because I don’t enjoy what... what’s going on between us.”

The red on her cheeks deepens and she shakes her head violently.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Stop apologizing. Go on.”

Insecurity laces her face when she looks at me now, a deeply rattled self-doubt that doesn’t quite suit her character. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this feeble.

“I think I might like it a little too much,” she admits. “I think I might like you a little too much. And maybe that’s why I feel so... lost. Maybe that’s why I want to know more about you. Maybe...”

Her voice breaks and she lets out a heavy sigh, her eyes trailing up to the ceiling for a moment before she finds the strength to continue.

“Maybe that’s why it hurts so much when you shut me out.”

Her words get to me, more than I’m comfortable admitting.

More than they should.

I’ve never had a problem keeping my puppets at a distance, and I welcomed it when they did the same to me. They danced for me, they showed me sides of themselves that no one else gets to see. We shared a special kind of intimacy together—but it always stayed on a superficial level.

And that was fine.

No, it wasn’t just fine—it was exactly what I needed from them. I needed their trust, I needed them to let go in a way they never could elsewhere, and I needed them to turn a blind eye to certain things. I needed them to do things for me without knowing that they were doing them.

But I also needed them to stay as far away from me as humanly possible under the circumstances.

I should ask the same of Alena, but she is making that very hard at the moment.

Call me weak, call me an idiot—but I won’t apologize for my next move.

She jerks in surprise when I get down from my chair and circumvent the aisle to the other side where she’s standing. Her eyes are wide in question when I place her face between my hands and lean down, planting my lips on hers for a kiss. She only hesitates for a moment before she responds exactly as I want her to, greeting my greedy tongue with hers and engaging in a insatiable dance that speaks of the hunger we share for each other.

I don’t care about being cautious for now. I know I should, but I don’t want to.

Besides, I still need her. I need her to trust me, I need her to feel comfortable and content. I can’t have her doubting and questioning every little thing when the only thing she really needs to do is to be a good girl for me, a devoted little puppet who lets me make her dance the way I want.

And that devotion has to run deep, maybe deeper than it has with any puppet before her.

I break our kiss, meeting her hazy gaze when I say in a low voice, “You’re mine for now. Stop worrying. Stop thinking. You’re not here to think. You’re here for me to enjoy you—and for you to enjoy me.”

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