Page 75 of Death Game: Supernatural Battle

I gasped as his reaction hit me. Working to control my expression, I couldn’t help the rise and fall of my chest as my entire being vibrated with the tension between us.

Scanning the crowd, my eyes fell on the box at the very back, where a row of suspiciously large people loomed. I focused on the massive shadow to the right of the middle giant—who I assumed was King Julius.

The shadow shifted, and I smiled.Yep,that was Kyros.

Striking a pose, I disappeared behind the curtain soon after, repeating the chaotic process of throwing off one outfit to slip into another. Three minutes wasnota long time when the worst-case scenario was getting shoved out onto stage half-dressed.

Next was the camisole and frilly panty set. I thought it was cute, but Kyros’s reaction during my walk told me he preferred the white negligee.Surprise, surprise.

I strutted past Harriet on the stage and beamed at her. Her glare could have curdled milk. Man, shereallyhated me. What a weird grudge to fixate on. I’d done nothing to her except humiliate her a few times before ignoring her—and be born into a richer family. Was there seriously nothing bigger in her life to focus on?

The strappy black number was next and pushed the boundaries of the three-minute change time. The assistant clipped the choker around my neck while I rolled on the second thigh-high. She fastened the hem into the garter belt and gave me a once-over.

“Don’t trip,” Harriet hissed as I hurried past.

“Shouldn’t be a problem. There’s no trash on the runway until you step on it,” I replied.

Fury twisted her face as I was dragged away.

Francesca adjusted the central strap that connected my choker to the middle of the bra. Strappy was the word for it. The bra was a criss-cross of satin. One band circled my waist. Panties under a garter belt, low denier thigh-highs, and black stilettos finished the look.

This time, the stilettos gave me no choice but to swing my hips.

I ignored the crowd, basking in Kyros’s roaring approval as I posed at the end, hooking a thumb under the waist strap and biting my lip.

Total hussy.

Ignoring Henry Gregorian, who was almost drooling, I swung my sexy butt back in for the final outfit.

This was kind of fun. Maybe Francesca was only 99 percent of a brat—I was willing to admit when I was wrong.

The last one was a half-cup royal-blue set with a thong.

“Um,” I said, glancing down. “I’m not sure half a cup is enough.”

The assistant eyed the precarious balance of my chest. “Don’t make any sudden movements.”

She checked the fastening—it was one of those bras that did up at the front.

I hurried to join the line when she was done.

Francesca checked Harriet over, shoving her through the curtain, and then glanced at my chest. Her brows shot up. “Careful now. Don’t breathe.”

Everything else fit perfectly. This was totally planned.

A few catcalls went up during Harriet’s walk, the flash of cameras flickering through the crack in the curtain.

“Go time,” Francesca said, drawing the drape back.

Carefully placing one white-heeled foot forward after the other, I did my best to glide down the stage without bouncing too much. Were my nipples showing because I was one sharp breath away from losing the battle.

Kyros liked this one too. A lot. Or maybe my nervousness turned him on too. Kind of made me want to buy a few things, but that was a definite line. Him watching me strut in lingerie via the medium of a catwalk, sure. I wasn’t doing the show for him. Buying lingerie for him was way too personal. Like I’d be claiming him as a mate in return.

You’ll drink his blood, but not wear nice panties.

When I’d come clean about everything, maybe then I’d consider wearing sexy things for him. If he still wanted anything to do with me.

Harriet posed, bending in half and sliding back up. My smile widened, and I felt Kyros’s answering amusement.

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