I might have been young, but there was never anyone else for me. The minute I gave in to what I truly coveted, I told her she was mine.
No one else in this fucking world can capture my attention quite like she does.
“Do you remember your safe word?” I ask.
Dawson and I decided it was best she have one. Her earpiece will pick it up in the event we get separated, or if she feels too uncomfortable and needs an escape.
“I do, but again. I have you; I’ll be fine.”
“Say it,” I growl.
She rolls her fucking eyes at me. “Ultio.”
I lean over the seat, my hand gripping behind her bare nape, pulling her to meet my lips. It’s an aggressive kiss, a silent warning about rolling those eyes at me when it’s not my dick causing them to.
“Good girl.”
I can feel her smile against me, my brows dipping when I feel a burn, and I abruptly pull back. “What the fuck is on your lips?”
I wipe my mouth with the palm of my hand.
Was that a fucking reverse curse?
She chuckles like a wicked little gremlin, rolling them together to smudge the red coating them. “Shona put this lip gloss on me; it should be illegal. It makes your lips plumper, so they look fuller.”
I scowl and continue to wipe while she laughs, shaking her head.
I don’t know how the fuck she’s sitting so unbothered by whatever that is, because mine feel like they’re on fire.
Indie already has full lips, and I thought whatever Shona had done with her make-up was just part of whatever witchcraft she knows about changing appearances; now I know she’s got some toxic fucking gloss on them.
“Make sure that’s the last time you wear that. I don’t want that shit stinging my dick,” I groan, my cock retracting at the thought of being burned alive.
“Here, boss,” our driver says from up front, and I glance over from Indie’s smile to see us approaching the threshold to the manor.
Two guards stand at each weathered stone pillar framing the road, the house beyond hidden within a fortress of trees and corroded stone high walls and hedges.
They lean in each window as our driver gives our details, looking over the invitation and glancing in the backseat, then nodding for us to continue.
The gravel road is blanketed from any light, only a sliver of the sunset piercing through as we approach the wrought iron gates, which open automatically as our car approaches.
When the car creeps through, it opens up to a wide grey, stone-cladded driveway.
A load of expensive-looking cars are lined up in the distance and a couple driving round the fountain as they circle and drop guests at the entrance.
The gold and black Omnia emblem is engraved into the centre of the waterfall.
“You seeing this, Dawson?” I murmur, knowing between the earpiece and the camera I have disguised as a pin, he can hear me.
“Every bit of it.”
The car rolls to a stop as we gear up to leave, and I place my aviators over my eyes. Stepping out and buttoning my jacket, I round the car and open Indie’s door.
My gaze travels over the spiralling granite doorway ahead, two security guards flanking each end, with another two holding clipboards as guests register, others already going through the search.
Glancing down at Indie, I hold my hand out for her, and she grips it like a vice as she stands, eyes closed.
When they slowly open, it’s like she’s morphed into something else entirely.
