Page 16 of Spearcrest Knight

“That sounds like a good bargain foryou,” she says. “What doIget out of it?”

“Well,” I lean down, closing some of the space between us, “what is ityouwant, Sutton? A wire transfer? Money in a suitcase?”

She throws me a look of pure disdain. Then she looks away, thinking in silence. Her fingers tap her arm, her teeth tug at her bottom lip. I watch her, alcohol and excitement burning in the pit of my stomach.

It’s so easy to dislike her when she’s so fucking stuck-up, so fucking serious. A total buzzkill. It’s so easy to fantasise about bringing her low, making a mess out of her.

She speaks up finally, interrupting my thoughts.

“Alright, I think we could do something like that. The taxi drops me off at yours so the school thinks I’m here, but I’m going to leave. Then you get your time to yourself, and we both win, just like you said.”

I frown. “Where are you going to go?”

“Town.”

“Why? Where?”

She lifts an eyebrow. “It’s none of your business.”

“Won’t it be weird if we go back to the school separately?”

She shrugs. “I doubt anybody will notice.”

“The taxi is going to come here, so what if I come to pick you up on the way back?”

She hesitates. “I might stay longer in town.”

“How long?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

I hop off the kitchen island, standing right in front of her to peer into her face. “Such secrecy, Sutton. What are you up to?”

Colour rises in her cheeks but she holds my gaze. “It’s none. Of your. Business.”

“You’re not scared I’m going to rat you out?”

She narrows her eyes. “Areyou going to rat me out?”

“What’s my incentive not to?” I say lightly, more to wind her up than anything else.

“Are you really trying to blackmail me?” she asks witheringly. “What are you going to do, shake me down for my lunch money? Force me to carry your school books? Make me lick your boots?”

She looks pretty confident given I’m standing so close to her. None of the cowering I’m so used to, the darting escapes away from me. It makes the heat in my stomach flare, flames rising in my chest.

I’ve never ever had the urge to get physical with Sophie before—I don’t hurt women and I can hurt her plenty with my words. But right now I have the urge to touch her, grab her, make her realise I’m the one with the power.

I’malwaysthe one with the power.

“It’s not your lunch money I want,” I say, taking her chin gently in my hand.

My voice comes out rougher than I expected, but I’m past caring. I have the irresistible urge to bend her to my will. To make her do what I want.

To make her mine.

It’s not like I’mintoSophie. I’ve worked hard to ensure I never would be.

No, this is more like the obsession a fighter might have over a formidable opponent. The desire to defeat, to conquer.

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