I make it to my bedroom before pushing the door closed and leaning back against it, my breathing harsh and more choked than I care to consider as I slam my hand over my mouth.
I’ve never behaved like that before. Never pushed back – certainly not in front of Philip. Papa will be furious.
He should be furious with Philip.
I’d lock my door if I could, but I’ve never had the luxury. My father insists on treating me as if I’ve never grown up, even while he plans my damn marriage for me.
Crossing to my dressing table, I sink down onto the velvet stool and stare into the glass. My reflection stares back, paler than usual. Darkness beneath my eyes is testament to the nights I spend tossing and turning, fighting off nightmares that feel more and more like reality every day.
“I don’t want to marry him.” My shaky whisper drops into the room.
Nobody is listening.
Nobody ever listens.
And nobody cares.
I’m not the first woman to face an arranged marriage. It’s a practice older than time.
Practical. Responsible. Almost expected.
My father’s words. He’s very clear on how common it is in our circles. Circles that I know hardly anything about, thanks to his unwillingness to let me out of the house. And yet he’s willing for me to move into Philip’s house and become—
My mirror nearly topples as I jump to my feet, trying to avoid those thoughts. But as I slip into bed, pulling up the covers and burrowing into them, I can’t stop them from flooding in
It’s the same every night. Shadows of my father, and Philip, and the life I’m expecting to lead. Fractured, broken nightmares of expectation and demand that I know will leave me exhausted tomorrow as I toss and turn.
But tonight… other thoughts creep in. Other dreams.
Warm hands on my bare skin. Gliding down. A male voice, murmuring in my ear. My body heats with every touch as those hands slide down.
More. My back arches, my legs opening, trembling as those hands cover my thighs and push them wider.
Fingers brushing against me. Gentle circles as I twist, silently begging.
And that voice, low and deep, the rumble reaching every part of me. “Come for me, Briar Rose.”
When I finally jolt awake, sweat-slicked and gasping, it’s River’s name on my lips. My mouth feels dry as I shake my head, trying to remember. The covers are kicked off, barely covering my hips as I press my legs together, trying to reach for that feeling again. Seconds later, my alarm trills, and I cover my face with a groan.
I’m in so much trouble.
Kai
“What the hell is wrong with him tonight?”
Jenson’s mutter has my shoulder lifting. We both watch River, not bothering to hide our assessment. He wouldn’t notice anyway, not in his current mood.
He’s sitting at a corner table with two newer initiates, rumbles of amusement and barked laughter reaching us where we’re leaning against the far wall. Getting to know the few new recruits we take on, testing them, learning their limits and what makes them tick – as well as break - is part of his role. But River is curiously silent, not paying attention. He takes another swig of beer, his eyes staring out across the dancefloor.
I lift my hands.Did he say anything to you?
Jenson shakes his head. “But he’s been acting weird since he came back.”
Maybe they couldn’t fix his jacket?
It’s a stretch, but River loves that fucking suit. It’s a symbol to him. He’s still wearing the trousers, his shirt sleeves pushed up as his elbows rest on the table. He glances up, awareness returning to his gaze as he catches my eye.
My fingers move rapidly.Get over here.
