I follow his gaze to find a small, silver video recorder on his dresser, the little red light on it blinking. My brows crunch together. “Why are you—”
“Ah-ah,” he tsks, “that’s a reveal for later.”
My dress slips from my shoulders, and I shudder as it drops to my feet, leaving me in a black scarf, sheer black bra, and matching G-string.
“Come.” Raife pats the bed. “Sit.”
My throat closes as I flick my eyes from him to the women. It’s not them who intimidate me so much as Raife’s expression. I’ve seen him so rarely since Adam claimed me that I almost forgot how dangerous the devious glint in his eyes is.
My palms dampen, and I keep my feet rooted to the floor. “I’m under orders to only follow my master’s instructions.”
Something dark flits across his brown eyes. When he grins, the combination is pure madness. “In that case ...” He unclasps his fingers and signals the women forward with a wave of his hand. “You don’t have to do a thing.”
The first woman to slink from the bed is the one who offered a glass of water when Raife was my master. Her hair is pulled back in a loose bun, and her brown eyes are locked on mine. When she takes a step toward me, stroking the extra scarf in her hands, the next girl follows. I know this one, too. Her hair long and billowing down her back, she’s the one who perked up at seeing my burn mark before proudly displaying her own. She smiles and winks as she walks forward, like she thinks she gets me. The other two I’ve seen only in passing, and they follow in a straight line, all four of their movements feline.
The woman with the bun reaches me first. She tilts her head, her eyes sliding down my body, then lifts her arms and gently pushes my hair off my shoulders. As she leans in and blows on my neck, the other three surround me.
Delicate fingers trail down my back, my stomach, then silk is teasingly curling around my waist. Nerves jump to my throat as sensations from the last time Raife had me restrained resurface. Cold unease spreads through my veins, mixed with a feeling I can’t shake, that I’m doing something wrong. I’m not supposed to be touched by them, by Raife, by Griff—I’m Adam’s.
I stumble forward when they urge me toward the bed, their bodies blocking every side of me.
“Shh, it’s okay,” one of them whispers.
“You need to trust them,” another says from behind.
Hands nudge my hips, my back, but I can’t see anything but blond hair and tanned skin, and my heart is pounding, and I just want Adam.
When I continue to hesitate, my feet dragging, Raife says, “Would you like Griff to assist you?”
Gritting my teeth, I finally relax against their shoves and allow them to usher me the rest of the way. Raife pats the bed again, now with triumph in his eyes.
I dart a glance at the blanket with a swallow, then look back at him. This isn’t like the other times, when I had to play along. I’m not his anymore. I don’t want to play.
“I’m not yours,” I whisper, my voice intentionally submissive in hopes of countering the disobedient words. I don’t know how far I can push before he’ll snap. “I shouldn’t be here.”
He drops his smile, his eyelids lowering. “I think we both know how true that is.” My breath hitches, and a cool tremor runs straight to my toes. “But as long as you’re in this house, you belong to me. Get. On. The. Bed.”
I can’t stop my fingers from trembling as I oblige, questions gripping me.
He knows I’m not meant to be here? What else does he know?
The other women join me one by one, forcing me further into the mattress then pushing me onto my back. They branch out, stopping to sit at different corners of the bed. Smooth silk wraps around my wrists and ankles, each of them tying their extra scarves around me, spreading my arms and legs, then looping the material through the bed frame to keep me in place.
My chest rises rapidly with the thumping of my heart as I find Raife’s calculated gaze. It’s strange, the way he almost reminds me of Adam. They’re both powerful, effortlessly seductive, and driven by darkness.
The core difference is: when I look into Adam’s eyes and he bares his soul, I see everything. I can touch his madness and his passion. I can taste his dark colors on my tongue then swallow them down to burn in secret with my own. But Raife, when I look into his eyes, I see nothing beyond the glints of mania. He’s so convoluted by the darkness waging inside him that any soul of his is buried past the point of no return.
Raife lets out a long sigh as he takes in my expression. “Don’t tell me you’re a virgin when it comes to women,” he mutters, frowning with feigned disappointment.
I narrow my eyes despite my racing pulse. Something tells me he already knows I’ve only been with men. Not that it matters. I suspect that has little to do with the real reason he brought me here.
“Well, I think you’ll enjoy it. Or at least my brother will. This is one of Griff’s favorite pastimes.”
Griff’s lips pull back in a partial smile, partial snarl. He stalks toward us, the bed creaking and leaning to one side when his bulky frame plops down. His beady black eyes drift along my body. “I usually do a lot more than watch.”
Raife glances at Griff, one corner of his lips lifting, and my stomach tightens. “All in due time, brother.”
All four of the women around me lean in at once. Hair tickles my neck, my stomach, my thighs. I tense in anticipation, wondering what Raife really has planned for me. He’s all about performance, and I have a feeling this is just Act One. Hands, fingers, lips—I don’t know who’s touching me where. Someone licks the curve of my neck, while another slips her hand beneath my panties.
