Page 14 of Lords of Ruin: Owned

“Sign the contract Willow.” Damien's jaw clenches, his arms crossed tightly against his chest and the muscles in his neck pulsing with tension. His hockey jersey stretches across his broad frame, emphasizing every bulging muscle and making him look like a fierce gladiator ready for battle.

With a deep breath, I lower the pen to the paper. My signature feels like a betrayal, but I remind myself: This is only temporary.

“Fine,” I huff, scrawling out my name out larger than anyone else’s. “If this contract makes you feel better.”

Vincent leans in closer, the hard planes of his body pressed into mine. “This makes me feel a lot better, gorgeous. Thank you.”

My chest tightens at the heat of his words, but I still my nerves and place the pen down on top of the contract, sealing my fate to three boys who want to, and I am quoting Cast here: torture, tease and control. Lucky me.

Standing up straight, my eyes locking with the stormy grey of Damien just as a devious smile spreads across his lips, like he wants to kill me. His stare feels crushing, and I can almost feel the walls closing in around me.

“This,” he says, holding up a necklace featuring diamond hearts, where three of them are black while the rest are pure white, “is a reminder. You wear it, and you follow the rules.”

My throat tightens, but I force myself to meet his gaze. “You can’t be serious. A collar?”

“Put it on, Willow.” Damien yawns.

I stare at the necklace. The opulence of it is undeniable—each jewel catching the light and scattering it in a thousand tiny rainbows across the room. It’s extravagant, breathtaking, and probably worth more than everything I will ever own combined. Tears sting my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. “And if I don’t?”

Cast’s smirk turns cruel. “Then we’ll help you put it on.”

Reluctantly, I take the collar, my hands trembling as I lift it to my neck. The weight of the sparkling diamonds feels oppressive, each stone cold against my skin as I carefully fasten the clasp. My throat tightens as the cool metal settles against me, a physical reminder of the control they’ve claimed.

“Good girl,” Cast murmurs, his voice a silken whisper that seems to curl around me, warm and teasing. The way his words brush against my nerves makes my skin prickle, and I bite the inside ofmy cheek to keep the treacherous twitch of a smile at bay. “Now, ask nicely if you can go to class.”

I clench my jaw, my voice barely above a whisper. “Can I go to class now?”

Vincent’s lips curve into a faint smile. “I’ll walk you.”

The weight of the collar seems to grow heavier with every step as Vincent leads me out of the room. My body feels like it’s buzzing, an uncomfortable awareness of Vincent at my side, his presence as undeniable as the collar itself.

We walk in silence for a few minutes, his gaze flickering toward me now and then. When he finally speaks, his voice is surprisingly gentle. “You know, you could be happy with us. If you allowed yourself to be.”

I scoff, the sound bitter even to my ears. “This is a deal, Vincent. Nothing more. Don’t pretend it’s anything else.”

He stops abruptly, his hand shooting out to grip my wrist, turning me to face him. His blue eyes bore into mine, glinting with a mix of amusement and something darker. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” I snap, though my voice falters.

Vincent’s grip slides from my wrist to the collar, his fingers hooking into it with practiced ease. He pulls me closer, the motion forcing my head to tilt back slightly, exposing my throat to him. The air shifts, charged and thick, as his lips hover a fraction of an inch from my ear.

“Then why are you shaking, Princess?” His voice is low, almost a growl, as his free hand skims down my arm.

“I’m not?—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he interrupts, tugging the collar just enough to make me gasp. His other hand snakes around my waist, pulling me flush against him. “You can’t even hide how much you like this.”

I try to pull away, but his grip tightens, holding me in place. My cheeks burn as he presses his thigh between mine, the friction sending an unwelcome jolt of pleasure through me.

“You’re soaked,” Vincent murmurs, his lips brushing against my jaw. His fingers trail lower, skimming the hem of my skirt. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but your body tells me the truth.”

Heat rushes to my face, humiliation and arousal warring within me. “Vincent.”

Vincent chuckles, the sound vibrating against my skin. “Not until we set another rule.” His fingers dip under my skirt, dangerously close to proving his point. “From now on, you’re not allowed to wear underwear. Understood?”

My breath hitches, a mix of outrage and anticipation coursing through me. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m very serious,” he replies, tugging the collar again for emphasis. His eyes gleam with satisfaction as he watches the conflicting emotions play across my face. “No underwear, Princess. And don’t think I won’t check.”

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