“I hope she’s worth it, because if you die, then it will be all for nothing.”
“She is. Every punishment, every mind-fuck, every beating.”
I tap the End Call button and toss my phone onto the wooden desk.
The door creaks open. Lilac stands in the archway with her arms folded across her chest. I notice the see-through tank top, the dark nipples, and the striped pajama shorts riding up her ass. My dick gets hard just looking at her. I don’t bother hiding it as I adjust myself.
She studies my every movement, licking her lips as if she’s in a trance. Then her gray eyes meet mine as she swallows thickly.
I love the manipulative game she tries to play with me. It’s so cute that she thinks she has me wrapped around her fingers. Shedoes—but not to the point where she can manipulate me out of her freedom.
She walks to the leather chair in front of the desk and sits, crossing her legs.
“Why are you on trial?” she asks.
There’s no reason to lie to her anymore.
I stand in front of her, leaning against the desk and crossing my legs.
“I married you without the board members’ consent.”
She leans forward, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“You’re an outsider. Your father isn’t part of the club. I have to complete three trials. I already completed one.”
She crinkles her eyebrows. “What happens if you fail a trial?”
I shrug. “I’ll die.”
She gasps, stands up, and folds her arms, pushing up her breasts. I look down at my princess. So pretty. So soft. So mine.
“So let me get this straight.” She taps her fingers against her chin. “You’re being punished for our marriage—the marriage you forced on me. Why would you make such a reckless decision?”
I play with the ends of her hair. “I’m obsessed with you. I already told you I would go to great lengths to be with you.”
Her breath hitches. Her chest rises and falls. Heat creeps into her high cheekbones.
“I don’t know what to say.”
I stroke her cheek. Living with Lilac has been an adventure. She keeps to herself most of the time, holed up in the library reading or doing homework. Most days, I’ll join her, and we do assignments together. Ever since she had a mental breakdown in the hospital parking lot, she clings to me for dear life at night. Even on campus, she doesn’t leave my side. She doesn’t feelsafe in her own skin—afraid she might be the serial killer’s next target.
She swore there was a message on her phone from the killer, but I didn’t see it. I even asked Jameson to hack her phone. He told me there was no digital print from an unknown number.
I press my palm to her cheek, stroking her skin. I need my princess. We’ve been doing this dance for too long. I need to fuck her. Have her. I miss being inside her.
I lean down, press a kiss to her lips, and gently yank her hands above her head. I remove her pajama top. I trail my finger down her neck, to her chest, then breasts, tugging softly on her nipples.
Her nipples harden.
She bites her lip, and her eyes flick to my mouth.
“What are you doing?” Her tone is softer.
“About to make you come until you can’t take it anymore.”
“I told you already that I don’t want you,” she snaps.
Her eyes drop to my crotch, then slowly rise to meet mine.
