“Edward isn’t just a hunter. He’s more like a keeper. The kind of sick person who puts people through psychological experiments just to watch them die inside.” Rowland falls quiet for several heartbeats, candlelight flickering across the scars peeking out from his collar. “Sometimes I wonder if he left you here as bait.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
“Think about it. He left us alone together. He had to know I’d sneak out of the attic, either to warn you or let us fall in love. Maybe he planned the whole thing. There’s no telling if he’s watching us right now, waiting to see how we’ll react.”
The food settles in my stomach like a stone. “Why would he do that?”
“Because I’ve been getting better at escaping my bonds. And more resilient to his punishments. Maybe he fears I’ll become a real threat.” Rowland’s jaw clenches. “But if he has you, he can control me. Use you as leverage.”
Panic claws through my chest. I try not to think about Rochester observing us from afar, playing us both like chess pieces. But it’s so plausible, I can’t help glancing from side to side into the darkness.
“Are you sure?” I whisper.
Rowland rises from his seat and pulls me to my feet. “I don’t know. But if this is all some elaborate game,Edward will die before he involves you in his sick fantasies. I promise you that.”
I place a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. These words should be comforting, but why do I feel like prey caught between two predators? I gaze into Rowland’s eyes. Eyes that burn with defiance, determination, and devotion. He despises his brother as much as he admires me. That resolve is what will keep us both alive.
It no longer matters that Rowland is damaged, or that he couldn’t tell the difference between lovemaking and rough sex. It doesn’t matter that parts of him are monstrous. Because he’s mine.
“Enough talk about Edward,” Rowland says, his voice turning low and rough. “It’s time for dessert.”
“What are we having?” I whisper.
“You.” He lifts me onto the table, sweeping aside plates and glasses. China scatters to the edges, smashing as he kneels between my parted thighs and pushes up my dress.
My breath catches. The air thickens, heavy with heat and anticipation. My heart slams behind my ribs, caught in that place between panic and hunger.
“Spread those pretty thighs for me. I’m going to eat this pussy like it’s my last meal.”
“Rowland, what are you?—”
His lips descend between my legs, his tongue finding my clit through the cotton of my panties. I gasp, my muscles twitching. Rowland slides the fabric to one side, exposing my heated flesh to the elements. The cool air hits my pussy, making me jerk like I’ve been shocked.
“What a pretty little cunt. You’re already soaked. Is that all for me?” he growls, his hot breath making me tingle.
“Yes,” I murmur.
“Tell me what you need?”
I roll my hips. “You. Your mouth.”
He swipes his tongue up the length of my slit, working me with the same careful attention he put into making my dress. My breath quickens. My thighs quiver around his head. Just as I’m about to moan, he suddenly stops.
“I want to hear you beg. Tell me how much you want my mouth.”
I fall backward, gripping the edge of the table with one hand and grabbing his hair with the other.
“Please,” I say with a gasp.
“Good girl. Lying back for me with your legs spread. Tell me something, little pet. How much does that pretty pussy ache for my tongue?”
“Fuck,” I moan. “Give it to me, Rowland. I’m begging.”
He builds me up with slow and steady strokes. His beard tickles my inner thighs, triggering little bursts of electricity that ripple to my core. I whimper, trying to stay still, but my hips keep chasing his mouth. My body doesn’t know how to resist him.
“You taste so good. And you’re mine. Say it, little pet, if you want to come.”
“I’m yours!”
