Page 58 of Deadly Rival

He fetches my collar from his top drawer, and my heart sinks at the sight of it. The bulky leather will ruin the look of the dress. He follows my gaze, and a smile touches his lips. “You haven’t earned a pretty collar yet, pet. Sorry. And I love how you look in this, even if you don’t.”

He fastens it around my neck, and the tight leather presses against my oversensitive skin in a way that isn’t entirely unpleasant. I risk a look in the mirror and draw in a breath. The collar transforms the sultry dress into something wicked, as if I’m all dressed up as a sacrifice, ready to be ruined.

He offers me his hand, and I get to my feet. I wobble on the ridiculous heels, and he steadies me with one hand as he grips the leash with the other. “Don’t worry, beautiful. I won’t let you fall.”

As I totter out the door, my one remaining rational brain cell shoots an idea to my frazzled brain. I need to go to Medical. Maybe these shoes are my ticket.

Twenty-Four

Sebastian

I could slam Opheliaagainst the wall and fuck her right now, in the creepy corridor, and I don’t think she’d care. I could, but the tiny part of me that isn’t completely corrupted is holding me back. I want her to ask for it. Beg, preferably. And yes, using the hot salve is a dirty trick, but I don’t care. It’s happening today.

She shifts on her feet as we wait for the elevator. Gabriel and Jacob have both experimented with the salve before and told me they had fun teasing the girls until they went crazy. Neither of them was a big enough asshole to use it in public, though. That honor is all mine.

Ophelia’s dilated pupils and the way she reacted when I first applied it show it’s not going to disappoint me, either. I didn’t tell her the effect will get stronger over the next two hours. I’ll let her discover that fun fact all by herself.

She’s quiet as I lead her through the streets to the restaurant. A summer breeze makes the air pleasant, but it doesn’t do anything to calm her flushed skin. I keep a firm hand locked through her arm to help steady her—the shoes I chose really arestupidly high, but the way her ass looks as she totters along is worth it.

I pause as we reach the stairs up to La Table Royale. She has her lip between her teeth, and her eyes meet mine as I study her, then adjust the strap of her dress a fraction to the right. I brush her nipple with my thumb, and her lips part, eyes closing as she moans. “Oh, God, please don’t.”

I ignore her and circle it again, fascinated by the way her breathing picks up. This is only half an hour into the process. What will she be like once it hits its peak? My cock is already rock hard, and this will probably be as bad for me as it is for her, but that heady rush of power is in the driving seat again, pushing me onward.

“You know the magic words. Let’s go.”

I slip my arm around her waist as we climb the wooden stairs.

Unlike most of the entertainment spaces in the Compound, which lean toward masculine decor, La Table Royale is pure chintzy French elegance. Spindly tables with white cloths hold bouquets of pink and white flowers, and the napkins are shaped into fussy fans.

Oval pictures hang in gilt-edged frames, showing scenes from before all the royals got their heads chopped off. Women in gowns and men in tights. It’s the polar opposite of my style, and one glance at Ophelia’s bemused face tells me it’s not what she was expecting. I bend my head to whisper, “Revolting, isn’t it? But the food is good.”

She smiles at the comment, then catches herself and looks away.

The restaurant is packed, though the crowd is mostly much older. There’re a lot of Brothers in the sixty-plus category, and their Wards all love this place. It's a mix of couples and a fewlarger groups. One packed table has a bunch of balloons and a sign reading “Happy 65th Birthday, Yvette!”

Perfect. As I hoped, Ophelia stares at the people, eyes wide. “Are all these women…”

“Yes. Wards, all of them.”

“How long have they been here? The older ones, I mean.” Her voice is quiet, and she’s stopped fidgeting.

“I don’t know. Most Brothers join before they turn thirty. A few come later, but almost none after forty. So, assuming their Wards are a similar age, thirty years, give or take? Some longer.”

The birthday table breaks out in raucous laughter, and Ophelia jumps. I steady her, but she doesn’t even seem to notice. She’s staring at what must be the birthday girl, if the silly plastic tiara is anything to go by. She’s grinning, sipping on a glass of champagne like any old lady enjoying a night out with her friends.

For a moment, I’m as entranced by the scene as Ophelia. I’ve let myself grow too used to this place. I’ve stopped noticing how twisted the Compound is, but brought back to reality by Ophelia’s shock, the weirdness smacks me right between the eyes. These women are captives. They’ve spent their entire lives in this one small place, and yet, somehow, they’re making the best of things.

“Seb!” A voice jerks me out of my reverie, and I turn to see Jacob and the rest of my friends seated at a round table, watching me with a frown. “We’re over here. You okay, mate?”

A few other diners turn to us—Jacob’s booming voice isn’t exactly subtle—and frowns replace smiles. I’m still the ugly duckling of this place, then. Big fucking deal.

I squeeze Ophelia’s hip to get her attention. “Come on. Everyone’s over here.”

Everyone, I see, includes Hadrian and Candice. I didn’t invite either of them, but Candice is pretty much a given wherever Quinn is, and she’s made it her mission to bring Hadrian out of his shell with limited success. He’s never rude but just doesn’t seem used to speaking with actual humans.

Quinn leaps up, grabs Ophelia’s arm, and drags her into the seat beside her. “Holy fuck. That outfit is amazing.” She glares at Jacob. “I want Seb to pick my clothes from now on.”

I hold up my hands as I seat myself next to Ophelia. I have Eve on my other side, and it feels like a deliberate maneuver. What’s the army phrase? A pincer movement. “Not a chance. Though, if you like, I’ll give Jacob some suggestions that go beyond Annie’s boutique.”

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