Page 21 of Marked

Chapter 13

Cain

“Work for it,” I demand, despite myself.

This is wrong. I shouldn’t fall for her. I shouldn’t play her.

Whichever is happening right now.

I’ve kept my distance from her as much as possible, trying to figure out what to do while never having to face her directly. I was careful never to be in a room alone with Riley long enough for her to corner me with questions I didn’t want to answer.

She knows. She knows!

I can’t let go of that suspicion, even though it’s based on nothing but speculation and an apparent flare in her eyes that I may as well have imagined.

Why the fuck am I so sure, though? And if she’s aware of my plan, why is she not fighting? Why did she never say a word? Why is she not panicking as she should?

What kind of scheme is she working out inside that shielded mind?

I should be more careful, but I don’t fucking care. Fire shouldn’t be so alluring if playing with it poses such danger. A man can only resist for so long, especially if the pressure is building up on top of his head, minute by minute, the clouds darkening as years of pursuit may finally come to an end.

And it all depends on her.

I depend on her.

She knows that, but I’m not sure whether she understands how to use that relinquished power.

“Work for it?” she implores in a tone that’s closer to singing than speaking.

I can tell that she wants to approach me, but for some reason, she doesn’t. She sways in my direction, folding her hands in front of her while she casts me a coy smile.

“Everything comes at a price,” I tell her. “You’re not my guest, you’re my—”

“Prisoner,” she finishes my sentence. “I’m aware. But even prisoners get real food.”

That’s not what I was going to say, but fine, we’ll go with her response.

“Prisoners don’t deserve to feel good, though.” I step closer, gently placing my hands on her shoulders. “And isn’t that what you demanded of me a couple of days ago? To make you feel good?”

The expression on her face changes and she looks aghast for a moment, her eyes widening and eyebrows arching, while she inhales a tad too deep.

“I’m sorry for that,” she says in a low voice, looking sad now. “I’m just so…”

She pauses, but her lips keep moving while she appears to contemplate her next move.

“I will make you feel good,” I promise. Her eyes light up for a split second before she recovers herself and returns to a neutral expression.

“And you’ll get your warm meal, but like I said, it comes at a price,” I go on, and she listens with intent. “You’ll have to please me first, before I’m willing to give you anything in return.”

Riley nods, her lips pressed together. “And what would please you, sir?”

There’s a hint of amusement in her voice that I don’t care for. It ruins an otherwise perfect response.

“You, moaning my name while I make you come on my cock,” I answer.

The blush on her cheeks is so endearing that I have to stop myself from tearing the clothes off of her body right away.

“I think I can do that,” she breathes.

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