Every emotion written clearly on her face, in the color of her skin, in the way her breath changes.
I'll have to teach her to control that before the showcase.
I can't have her broadcasting every feeling to the Consortium members watching.
They'll use it against her, against me.
But for now, I enjoy it.
Enjoy knowing exactly what she's feeling.
Enjoy watching the war between shame and arousal play out across her features.
"Get up," I say, releasing her finally. "Shower. Get dressed. Something comfortable—we have work to do today. I'll have Mrs. Silva prepare breakfast."
"I'm not hungry."
"You'll eat anyway. You barely touched dinner the night before you found that invitation and ran. And you spent three and a half hours running through the woods before that, burning energy you couldn't afford to lose. Your body needs fuel, Eden. I need you at full strength for what's coming."
She sits up slowly, wincing slightly at the movement.
The sheet falls away, revealing her naked body in the morning light streaming through the windows.
Perfect.
Every inch of her is absolutely perfect.
Pale skin that bruises easily—I'll have to be careful about that, can't have visible marks before the showcase unless they're intentional. Small breasts that fit perfectly in my hands. Narrow waist flaring to hips that will be perfect for gripping when I finally fuck her.
Long legs that will wrap around me beautifully.
Mine. All of it is mine now.
She reaches for the sheet to cover herself, that automatic modesty reasserting itself in the light of day.
"Don't," I say sharply.
"Vaughn—"
"I've seen every part of you. Touched every part of you. Made every part of you respond to me. Tasted you. Made you come apart. There's no point in modesty now. Your body belongs to me. I can look at it whenever I want."
She glares at me with those hazel eyes full of impotent fury, but she doesn't reach for the sheet again.
Good girl. Learning already.
She gets out of bed with as much dignity as she can muster, which isn't much given the circumstances.
Walks to the bathroom without looking back, her spine rigid with tension.
I watch her go.
Watch the way she moves.
The slight stiffness in her gait from last night.
The careful control she's exerting over her body, trying not to show weakness.
She's fighting it still.
