Page 34 of Psyop Kings

Unreal.

Gareth shoots me a forlorn look. “I thought… I thought I could help her remember. To prove it to her.”

“Leave us,” Caius growls. “You’ve done enough.”

Gareth curses at him and then shoulder checks him on the way out. Caius’s nostrils flare, his only tell of his annoyance, and then his dark orbs pin me in place.

Before I can stop myself, I launch at him, claws bared and ready to do damage. I’m not able to dig my nails into his cheek because he snatches my wrist with lightning-quick reflexes. I scream at him and attempt to kick him in the balls. The world tilts as he pushes me onto my bed, his body pinning mine to the mattress.

“Look at me,” he commands in a vicious tone, hands tightening around my wrists he has a hold of. “Now.”

I turn my head away from him and stare at all the pictures of us together. They’re not real. They can’t be.

He gathers both my wrists in one hand and then forcibly moves my head with fingers biting into my jaw. Our eyes meet—mine filled with rage and confusion and his are an empty, dark abyss of apathy.

I hate him.

There’s no way I’d ever fall for a man like Caius. If they’d tried to trick me into believing it was Gareth instead, I’d believe it. Not Caius.

“I’ve had enough of your attention seeking,” he murmurs, nose nearly touching mine. “Time to get your shit together, little girl.”

Little girl.

His words and touch are like acid being flicked on my skin. I want to claw at my own flesh to get them off me.

“You won’t break me,” I hiss, spittle hitting his face. “This thing you’re doing won’t work.”

Rather than give any indication that this is some messed-up game, his features soften slightly. It’s more terrifying than the coldness that typically emanates from him. Warmth from a man like him is almost comforting and I don’t like it.

“One day you’ll remember,” he murmurs, confidence dripping from his words. “You’ll remember how you used to moan my name every night.”

Foreign heat tickles at my flesh.

It’s embarrassment.

I think.

Definitely not familiarity or desire.

He disgusts me.

“You’ll remember how it feels to straddle me while my tongue fucks your sassy mouth.” He brushes his lips over mine. “You’ll remember how much you like it when I bite.”

A mixture of terror and intrigue washes over me.

This is all a lie.

Right?

Maybe if he kissed me, I’d be able to tell for sure.

His body is hard and muscular, and I become increasingly aware of each part of him that presses against me. Does it feel familiar? My heart is racing too quickly in my chest and my brain is filled with fuzz. I can’t make sense of anything. All I can focus on is his touch and cologne and minty breath.

I’m scared, but some part deep inside of me wants him to be right about all this because maybe he can fix it. He can make all the confusion go away.

My muscles start to relax.

I should just give in.

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