“Why,” said the emerald-eyed man casually, “did you not take out the jewels?”
It took me a second to remember how to speak. “What are you talking about? What jewels? Out of where?”
What a strange question.
Exhaustion, dizziness from spinning, and the warm sensations twisting in my lower stomach made it hard to think.
Something strange was happening.
They must think I’m someone else.
My first event in the Spartan world, and I’d stolen another woman’s lovers.
“Uh—I’m poor,” I blurted out, needing to ruin whatever disillusion they were under about my identity. “I don’t have jewels.” The truth seemed the easiest way.
The men stilled again. Fingers gripped my skin harder, and for a second, they trembled—with something volatile. Vibrations shook through me.
“No, you aren’t,” the man behind me said forcefully, like he was gritting his teeth. “Not anymore.”
Excuse me? Are they mocking me?
I scoffed and tried to pull my hand out of the front man’s grip. “Yes, I-I am.”
I wasn’t ashamed of who I was or how I’d grown up.
As far as I could tell, Spartans had no ability to comprehend what it was like to be at the bottom of the food chain. Dirty, in the woods, under a tarp.Charlie is still there waiting for me.
I wouldn’t let this place make me forget.
I struggled harder, but the men just stepped closer and resumed dancing. Their hips pinned me in place.
“Let me go.” I yanked, as I tried to gain control of the situation.
They chuckled darkly and held me tighter as the three of us twirled.
“I don’t think we will,” said the front man harshly. “Non ducor, duco.”
I am not led, I lead.
The man at my back leaned close. “My carus.”
Goosebumps exploded down my arms because he called me his dear in Latin, like it meant something.
My feet stopped, but their tight grips kept me moving between them. They spun, dragging me across the packed dance floor.
They’re playing with you. This is all a game.
I felt sick.
“I have a question?” I asked softly.
Both men bent down to listen, wolves leaning closer to devour.
I slammed my knee up (the leg Nyx wasn’t on) into the front man’s crotch, then rammed my elbow back.
Powerful legs clamped around my raised thigh so my knee was pressed against hardness, and I couldn’t move—the man in front let out a throaty groan.
That wasn’t supposed to happen.
