Page 123 of Wicked and Claimed

His chest tightened as he headed back to their suite.

If he wasn’t careful, tonight might destroy everything between them. Even if they survived this hell and tore down this predatory operation, what he had to do to sell his cover might destroy any chance of winning Haisley back. But if he had to choose between breaking her trust or watching her die, he’d sacrifice her trust every time. Even if it meant losing her forever.

The weight of that choice pressed against his chest like a physical thing. Protector. Perpetrator. Lover. Enemy. The lines were blurring, and he was terrified of what that meant for them both.

CHAPTER NINE

Haisley curled deeper into the window seat, tightening the belt of her silky borrowed robe. She’d given up pretending to read after staring at the same page for an hour and failing to absorb a single word. Outside, the Caribbean sun gleamed off the stunningly blue water. It should have been beautiful, but like everything about this island, it was merely a facade, steeped in deceit and danger.

And it was sucking Nash in.

Since that horrific night in the Midnight Sanctuary when he’d been forced to claim her in front of an audience, something had changed between them. And she felt it casting a long, dark shadow over her heart.

After that shattering on-stage performance, he’d taken her to their suite, drawn her into the shower, and whispered his explanation in her ear. It had made sense. Of course they were being watched. Tested. He’d had to make the claiming real.

But no matter how gentle his touches or how sincere his apology, she hadn’t been able to shake off that awful night. She’d felt faceless, voiceless. Like a mere possession. Unimportant. Disposable. And knowing that he’d lied to her about the Jasper thing only magnified her feelings. She’d heard his rationale for the ruse. On some level, she even understood. But unlike that horrible claiming ceremony, no one had forced him to lie to her. To hurt her. He had chosen to do that on his own.

From the moment she’d stepped foot in this suite, it had become her gilded cage. And Nash? Her keeper. He came and went at all hours, offering no explanation about where he’d been or what progress he’d made in finding their escape. Most days, he barely spoke to her. Rarely touched her. Without that contact, she felt lost.

Last night before the movie, his phone had buzzed twice. Both times he’d stepped away, speaking in carefully generic responses. Afterward, he’d offered no information. He had simply plopped on the sofa beside her and tuned her out. This morning, she’d woken up alone.

Something had to give.

The operative who swore he’d come to save her no longer felt like the man she’d fallen for, but a stranger. Nash Scott had always been tenderly dominant and unflinchingly protective. Jasper King was cold and calculating, keeping her in the dark while he played spy games. She understood the need for secrecy, for caution. But why shut her out completely? Why not treat her like a partner instead of a pretty object he’d bought for an ungodly price?

She wanted to believe it was all an act, that somewhere beneath Jasper King’s ruthless facade, the Nash she’d fallen for still existed. But with each passing hour, her hope dimmed. Had she ever really known him? Or was she now seeing his true face—the covert operative who moved through the seedy world of danger and sin with shocking ease?

The decisive click of the suite’s door interrupted her brooding thoughts.

She whirled to find Nash standing in the portal, his massive frame blocking the light from the hall. From his stance and the set of his shoulders, she knew instantly that something had changed. His eyes were unusually cold. Predatory.

Her breath caught.

This wasn’t Nash, but Jasper King—the man who relished owning her, body and soul.

Wordlessly, he locked the door with deliberate slowness, the metallic clink highlighting the fact she was his cornered rabbit. Her heart slammed into her ribs.

“Strip.” His dark voice sounded like the crack of a whip.

“W-what?”

“Now. I won’t repeat myself.”

Haisley froze, clutching her book to her chest like a shield.

With a muttered curse, he crossed the room in long strides and seized her wrist, yanking her to her feet. The book clattered to the floor, splitting the spine. Pages scattered like the feathers of a broken wing.

His grip wasn’t painful, but it brooked no argument as he dragged her to the bed. The luxurious mattress that had cradled their uneasy sleep now loomed like an altar of sacrifice.

“Wait! What?—”

“No.” He ripped her silk robe away, leaving her clad in nothing but the whisper-thin nightgown beneath.

Cool air raked her skin. Goose bumps erupted. Apprehension surged.

“But—”

“Enough! It’s been pointed out to me that you may have perceived my patience as weakness. Or assumed that I care about your feelings. My goal was to break you slowly, but I see that I’ve been far too easy. That ends now.”

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