Page 42 of Claimed In Darkness

If I am to play this game, I will play it well.

The moment he turns to face me, I see the challenge in his crimson eyes.

Let’s see how well you can pretend, little fox.

His fingers skim over my waist as he pulls me into position. Slow. Possessive. Intentional.

I bite the inside of my mouth, willing myself not to react to our closeness.

The music swells, a slow, sensual melody, the kind meant for lovers and liars alike.

We are both.

We move in time with the rhythm, our steps fluid, effortless.

I don’t dare look at him. Not at first.

I focus on the feel of the floor beneath my feet, the warmth of this place, the distant murmur of laughter and gossip.

Then his fingers press into my hip, dragging me closer.

"Eyes on me," he murmurs.

I grit my teeth but obey.

His grin is insufferable.

"Good girl."

I should break his nose for that.

Instead, I press closer, my lips brushing against his ear as I whisper, "You’re liking this too much."

His breath catches. Just for a fraction of a second.

That means I win for this round.

His grip tightens. His next step is sharper, forcing me to follow his lead, making sure I know that despite my little victory, he is still in control.

The world around us fades. The only thing left is him and me.

The war in his touch.

The fire in mine.

"You're learning," he murmurs, voice dripping with amusement.

I smile, slow and sweet with venom.

"That’s the problem with keeping a thief close," I whisper. "Eventually, she learns how to steal from you."

He chuckles, low and dangerous.

"And what have you stolen, little fox?"

I meet his gaze, my fingers tracing the length of his forearm.

"Your time," I say. "Your attention."

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