Page 267 of Rage

Scarlett rolled her hips, and that small, simple gesture had thrown Josephine’s head against the mattress, a growl of pleasure rumbling in her throat.

Her right hand moved from Scarlett’s hip and eased under her gown for only a moment before the Darling pushed it away. “You said you wanted me taken care of.”

“I did,” Josephine leveled.

“Then let me use you the way I intended.”

Scarlett’s assertiveness drew a breathy chuckle from the Second Heir’s mouth. It was a riveting feeling, being on top, pinning Josephine against her bed knowing she could’ve easily taken the upper hand as all men had.

But Josephine Singh wasn’t a man. With her hips steadily rolling out her pleasure, fucking her without doing so, Scarlett didn’t even think she was a woman. Maybe a dead god, what with that inquisitive way she looked at her through half-lidded eyes, the flare of her lashes, the muffled moans on her tongue.

Scarlett’s hand left Josephine’s neck, quickly burrowing under her gown and rubbing hard against her clit. She tilted her head back, nearly losing herself if not for Josephine’s hands on her hips, rooting them together with an unbroken vice.

The Second Heir met her thrust for thrust, their clothes askew, their hair disheveled, until the very moment Scarlett cried out her orgasm with a knotted brow.

Her body shook against Josephine’s, carefully riding out the tension before the candlelight flickered and she remembered where she was. In the Willow Estate with flares of magic dancing along the fingertips of her lover. Atop the Second Heir who looked at her as if she’d never seen another woman. Leaning down to catch Josephine’s mouth with hers, soft as if to give thanks.

“You’re a beautiful thing, Little Dove,” she whispered. “I wonder what you’ll be like when you wake up.”

It was almost immediate. That earth-shattering revelation that pulled Scarlett up with a gasp, hand pressed to her chest, feeling the flutter of her heart. She was still situated in theWillow Estate. Her suite hadn’t changed, for there were still sconces burning along the wall. The side tables were shrouded by her transparent veil, but Scarlett could make out the book she’d pulled from the shelf before bed,Pride and Prejudice, hanging off the edge.

The sheets were warm, and so was she. That is until she pulled them back and realized she was practically soaked by her own desires, one roused by terrible dreams of Josephine Singh.

One where she wanted her more than she wanted anything else.

Chapter Eight

Red Or Blue

While the Willow Estate wasn’t too well-furnished, its emptiness didn’t bother Scarlett. She enjoyed it more than she cared to admit, given that she never knew what it was like to be solitary.

The sun sat high in the sky by the time she got out of her bed. Her body ached as if she’d spent the night rolling around with the Silver Tyrant; a strange, mysterious enigma that gnawed at her wandering thoughts.

While hunger clawed at her bones, Scarlett’s curiosity kept her from the kitchens and her feet trailing through each of the rooms. There was an office that held a desk, a laptop that was open with a document full of Birzhagi–a language made by the curators who claimed the Black Throne. While there were no bookshelves, many texts had been stacked haphazardly across the floors, taking water damage from the leaky spots in the ceiling.

Scarlett shifted through them, smiling at the oddities of classic fiction and historical romances. If these belonged to Josephine, then she had a type.

Only when she went trapezing through a half-open door with the wordsDO NOT ENTERwritten across it did shefind a spare change of clothes. They were simple: a band tee, a pair of ripped jeans, and a note atop them that read:“You’re a troublemaker, Little Dove. One day, it’ll get you killed. Breakfast is downstairs. Liam will come in an hour (1:30PM) to pick you up.”

Scarlett had questions. Mostly how Josephine knew of her sleep schedule, perfectly timing Liam’s arrival, and the creation of breakfast in a home that held nothing. The latter part of those questions had been answered with a bowl of cereal.

When Liam arrived at 1:30PM on the dot, he retrieved her with a small smile. And when she asked him where they were going, he raised his brows and said, “To the clinic.”

Scarlett hated the drive. She hated Jordan for putting her in this predicament, making her regret every little thought of admiration she had towards a man that proved he was just that and nothing more. She hated Amina, Mother of Heirs, for producing them. And she hated Josephine for giving her answers she didn’t want.

There was a reason why Dolls and Darlings didn’t ask questions. It was better to kill a bird when they felt loved. When they brushed their beaks against the open palm of their master, not knowing when their neck would break.

Josephine took that to the grave. She’d turned Liam’s obedience, used his care for the girl he’d chauffeur, and took her to the Slaughterhouse where she got to see the truth. As theatrical as the Second Heir had been since their paths crossed, Scarlett was thankful for one thing: when it came to the well-being of those around her, Josephine wasn’t as terrifying as her brothers.

The clinic was a facility that stood alongside the medical district; a long strip of land, maybe ten miles in length, that anyone could get lost in. It was the only place where Singhs and their rampant number of enemies couldn’t brawl. And here, Medics sat with their pockets full and their hearts fuller. They cared for all people despite their sins.

For Scarlett, sitting in a room with four white walls and navy blue seats that made her feel at home was strange. So was the woman that had come to aid her with a smile. Tell her that she and the expansive crew of Medics would be prepared to help her in any way possible.

Then came the facts.

Scarlett was almost a month and a half pregnant. It was too early for her to be showing any signs other than the occasional dizzy spell, terrible headaches that ripped through her frontal lobe, and an excessive touch of fatigue. Thankfully there was no morning sickness. “Not yet at least,” said one of the women with a smile.

Past the pap smear, the blood test, and the ultrasound screening, she was in good shape.

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