Page 52 of Deadly Rival

Yes, actually. When Quinn insisted on doing my makeup, I couldn’t stop staring at my lips in the mirror. But I’d stab myself before I’d admit that. “No. They look stupid.”

“They don’t, and you know it.” His hand slides up to my hair, running a lock of it through his fingers. “You look absolutely fucking incredible.”

I shouldn’t feel anything at his words, but my heart pulses anyway at the raw desire in them. All I can think about is the pleasure he forced on me the previous day. Over and over, whileI begged him to stop. My pussy clenches at the memory, even as my face heats.

I can’t help but study the hard angle of his jaw and the midnight-blue pools of his eyes. Men who look like him shouldn’t be dangerous, but that’s what he’s giving off now. A smile flickers across his face, and it’s the one that makes me shiver.

“We played a game last night. Do you remember?”

I’ll never forget until the day I die. I grunt in assent, though hope sparks. Maybe we can stick to the same rules as before.

“The ceremony we discussed yesterday? We’re going to practice for it. If you behave and get it right, you get to pick where I fuck you. If you mess up”—he shakes his head—“I get to choose.”

“But…I… You can’t…” The words clump together. I can’t get over how casually he’s saying all this. Like it’s normal and I’m the crazy one. Maybe I am.

“I can, and I’m going to.” His face softens. “This will all feel normal soon.”

The echo of my thought sends a chill through me. Will it? Based on Eve and Quinn, who both seem like intelligent women, yes, it will.

He claps his hands as if it’s a done deal. “Right. The ceremony.” He pulls out a chair and sets it on its own in the middle of the living room. “You need to imagine this is a stage and you’re off in a room to the side. They might let you have Eve with you while you wait. Quinn will probably go first because…”

He falls silent, and I have the distinct impression he almost said something he shouldn’t. He doesn’t seem good at keeping secrets. If I’m smart, I might get him to reveal something he doesn’t want to. “Why will Quinn go first?”

“She’s been here the longest. That’s how they do it.”

I’m not buying it.

He raps the back of the chair with his knuckles. “The real chair is a big, heavy carved thing. I’ll sit on it to wait for you. You’ll strip and walk out to kneel at my feet.”

Said as if he’s explaining how to make a cake. He seats himself in the chair and watches me expectantly. “Go ahead.”

My eyes are drawn back to the window. I want to be out there. Anywhere else. Not here. Kneeling for him is just…no. I can’t. I shake my head. “It’s ridiculous. You’re not a king, and I’m not your servant.”

“No, I’m an ordinary man.” He lets out a long sigh. “I hadn’t planned on fucking you in the ass for a while, but I suppose I’m going to have to. Maybe it’s your thing. Do you prefer it?”

I’ve never even tried it, and the thought makes me clench up protectively. It’d hurt. It’d be messy. And worse, it’d be degrading. He’d probably take a goddamn photo.

I stare out of the window again, then back at Sebastian patiently waiting on his seat. Would he really do it? I think so. He’s made a new game, and this falls within his new rules. Plus, in a way I can’t put my finger on, he seems different. Like the gloves are off and everything is suddenly more serious.

Kneel, sit, stand. They’re all just body positions. What difference does it make? Quinn wouldn’t give a shit. Be like her.

Good advice, but can I heed it? I clench my fists and take a step toward him.

“Strip first. My God, Ophelia, we’ll be doing this for a long time if you can’t remember that much.”

The amusement is back, and so is the darkness. He’s a kaleidoscope, shifting second by second. Why couldn’t I get a sensible captor?

The thought is so stupid it almost makes me laugh, and it gives me the strength I need to strip. He spent hours looking at my naked body yesterday. It’s not like I’ve grown anything newsince then. It’s still difficult, though, with the way he watches me. He wears the self-satisfied look of a man who knows he’s going to get everything he wants.

This outfit, chosen with Quinn’s help, isn’t completely hideous, so I take the time to fold it neatly and place it on the arm of a chair. I’ll wear it to dinner later. It’s much better than any of the other options.

When I turn to face him, a smile tugs at his lips. “There’s a good little pet. Well done.”

I wish he wouldn’t do that. And I wish there wasn’t a sad, affection-starved little part of me that warms up when he does. I ignore it, stare at his feet, and force myself to walk toward him.

“On the day, of course, you’ll be onstage in the auditorium. Two-hundred or so people will be watching.”

I know. He’s already said that. He’s just trying to unsettle me. I thump down to my knees as gracelessly as possible and meet his gaze. “What now?”

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