Page 80 of Dance of Ruin

I swallow as I sit on the edge of the bed, set the box on my lap, and untie the ribbon. I pull the lid off, then frown, trying to make sense of the two things inside.

When it hits me, I feel my eyes glaze over as my jaw drops and my face throbs.

Holy. Shit.

For half a second, I thought the first thing I was looking at was a necklace—a somewhat thicker, chunkier necklace than I might normally wear, but still a necklace.

No. It’s not a necklace at all.

…It’s acollar.

My pulse skyrockets, and my mouth goes dry.

An actual, literalcollar. A polished silver, gleaming loop with a catch on the back and a delicate, almost-hidden hinge across it.

Then my eyes slide to the second thing in the box, and my face turns to pure fire.

That would be a butt plug.

It’s the same polished silver as the collar, and, to be honest,gorgeous. It’s not that big, and it tapers to a thin part in the middle, then flares out to a base with…

I stiffen.

…Are thoseactualdiamonds?

“I’ll take your silence as stunned excitement,” Nico says drily. “In addition to the rules about what you wear and where you sleep, whenever you enter this apartment—atanytime—you’ll wear both of these.”

Something dark and needy claws up my spine, sending a sparking sensation through my core that I desperately try and stamp out.

“Any questions?” he growls quietly.

“Yeah—what happens if I break a rule?”

Nico smirks. “You’ll find out.”

I drag my eyes from the box on my lap and look up at him with trepidation. “So that’s it, then? I’m just your little captive, bound up and obedient?”

I gasp when he reaches down and cups my jaw, lifting my chin as his eyes lock with mine.

“Don’t think of it like that,” he grins. “Think of it as choreography.”

I shake my head, biting back a laugh that’s more bitter than amused. “You’re a sadist.”

He lifts a shoulder. “Not particularly. But Iwillbe in control of you. Now, if you’re done pouting…” He smirks. “Time for you to try on your new presents.”

I shoot him a look. “I’m notpouting.”

“You are.”

“Not at all. I’m just figuring out which window I can jump out of.”

He leans in, his voice dropping to a purr. “They’re all bulletproof, ballerina.”

* * *

After dinner—whicharrives via some exclusive Michelin-level delivery service I’ve never even heard of—Nico tells me it’s time for bed.

Not “you should get some rest”.

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