Page 103 of Dance of Deception

19

LYRA

The words hangin the air between us, thick and heavy, sinking into my skin like ink.

I don’t know if it’s a command or a challenge. Both, maybe.

I should laugh. I should scoff. I should roll my eyes and tell him he’s insane. But I don't do any of those.

“I—I don’t understand,” I whisper, though the pounding of my pulse betrays me.

Liar. I understand exactly what he means.

I’m just not sure I can admit it to myself.

Carmine smiles darkly. “Yes, you do. You’re going to run. And I’m going to chase you.” He steps right into my personal space, looming over me. “And thencatch you.”

A dark, needy pull throbs inside me. I try to shove it down and ignore the heat curling in my belly, but it’s useless.

“What happens when you catch me?” I whisper, fear and something else I don’t want to name coursing through my veins.

His eyes gleam. His hand—the unbloodied one, thankfully—reaches up to cup my jaw. His thumb runs across my lips before it slips past them into my mouth.

I shiver as he presses down on my tongue, stroking it with his thumb as my lips automatically close around it. A dark grin curls his lips as he slowly eases his thumb in and out of my mouth.

“When I catch you,” he murmurs quietly, his voice curling around me like smoke. “I’m going tofuck you, little dancer.”

Holy shit.

A war rages within me. My rational mind screams that this is wrong, that I should be disgusted, that I should run and never look back. But the dark, twisted part of me—the part Carmine seesso clearly—wants to see how far he’ll go. How far I’ll let him.

I try to tell myself that it'swrongfor me to want this, get excited about it. This isn't normal. My depraved, immoral desires that Carmine so easily sinks his claws intoaren't normal.

They're still there, though, lurking under the surface. It’s like he can smell them.

Can I really lose my virginity like this?

Carmine tilts his head, almost like he can hear the battle in my mind. “You can run,” he growls, tracing his thumb over my lower lip again. “Or not, and I’ll simply take you right here. But if you run, you can at least tell yourself you tried to get away.”

A single second stretches between us like an eternity. Then, before I can second-guess myself?—

I whirl, and I bolt.

My feet pound the marble floors as I tear through the library and out the door, my wedding dress a tangle of silk and lace around my legs. My breath comes fast and sharp, every inhalation searing my lungs.

Behind me, there’s no frantic pursuit.

Just slow, measured steps.

A predator in no hurry to end the hunt.

I don’t look back. I can’t.

I round a corner sharply, my fingers grazing the wall for balance. The branching hallways stretch before me, dim and endless, lined with tall doors and gilded mirrors that reflect my panicky expression back at me.

I need to hide.

Another turn. My wedding dress catches on the corner of a table, yanking me back. I let out a sharp gasp and wrench free, the beautiful, delicate lace tearing as I stumble forward.

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