“Shh… We’re almost done.” He dragged his knuckle over the soft patch of hair. “Keep your eyes on me.”
Her knees reflexively tried to lock, but his hips blocked her from closing her legs, inadvertently touching him.
The corner of his mouth hooked into a grin. “You’re okay.”
“I…” She shook her head as words locked in her throat.
“No penetration,” he whispered, massaging around her sex.
Her body betrayed her, slickening in ways she couldn’t control. Clenching. Pulsing. She squeezed her eyes shut in mortification.
“Your body responds naturally, Daisy. There’s no reason to feel ashamed of that.” His finger curled inside, and she gasped. Her hips jerked involuntarily. “Shh, shh, shh, shh. Why don’t you make it easier and lie back?”
A sound escaped her throat—not a word, not a scream, just a small broken noise as he once more eased her down on the paper cloth. His finger swirled and dipped, drawing the wet proof of her arousal out to moisten her folds.
Stop…
She needed to tell him to stop.
Timber.
This was not right.
“I—”
“Just try to relax.” His finger slowly traced?—
The shrill ring of a telephone shattered the silence, and Dr. Tannhäuser’s touch disappeared.
He answered the phone with a soft, steady voice. “Yes?”
Daisy yanked the gown closed, locking her knees together. Her heart hammered hard enough to crack a rib.
“Yes. I see. Thank you.” He hung up. Turned back to her with a Cheshire smile. “Good news. You’re not pregnant.” He chuckled at his little joke, then opened a drawer and withdrew a small vial and a syringe.
Fuck. The contraceptive. They still weren’t done.
“This will sting,” he said, approaching with the needle. “But only for a moment. And then you’ll be on your way.”
She eagerly pulled up her sleeve and closed her eyes as the needle punctured her skin. She sucked in a breath as cold chemicals spread under her skin. Then it was over.
He tossed the syringe in a bin marked BIOHAZARD. “All done. Next time I see you, you’ll be a whole new woman.”
“Next time?”
He smiled, his eyes darkening with promise. “Tomorrow, at The Feast. I’m one of the hunters.”
Chapter Eight
The Weight of Crowns
“Do you know who Robert Oppenheimer was?” Mr. Carrow watched Jack with that particular intensity that meant a lesson was coming. A real one.
Jack put down his pencil. “No, sir.”
“He was a German scientist. A brilliant theoretical physicist. The most fundamental of his generation if not the century.” Mr. Carrow removed his glasses and cleaned them on his sleeve, a habit Jack had come to recognize as a stalling tactic that allowed time for his words to sink in. “During the second World War, he was asked to build a weapon more powerful than anything the world had ever seen. Can you guess what it was?”
“A bomb?”
