“Of course.” He taps his fingers on the desktop. “Did he touch my wife?”
“No.”
“Very well.” He waves me off and I exit the library, shutting the door behind me. Hunter waits in the hall, a question on his lips, but I go first. “What was that about earlier? About you both being on the edge?”
He exhales, then says it like it’s nothing. “I took her to Noir Sanctum.”
“The sex club?” The words are out before I can stop them. I’ve never been, but I know the reputation. My mind fills in a million scenarios, and every single one stars the Baroness naked.
“She had a lot of energy after the hypnosis and wanted a distraction,” he says.
“And you just randomly thought, 'Hey, a sex club sounds fun?’”
He lifts his eyebrow and fuck. It does sound fun.
My interest piqued, despite myself, I ask, “Did you fuck her?”
“Almost,” he admits. “It was headed there, but the King–”
“The King what?”
“He was there.” Which, of course, everyone knows Maddox owns the hotel and club, which means the King owns it, and that explains a lot about the man we serve. “He was controlling the whole thing.”
“Controlling how?” I probe.
“Giving us directions, encouraging me to push both of our boundaries, it was… fuck, it was incredible, but he stopped me before I fucked her outright.” He swallows, then adds, “He stopped me from going too far and doing any real harm.”
“Jesus.” Jealousy licks up my spine. “Did she like it?”
“You’ve seen her,” he says. “Are you surprised she likes a little pain with her pleasure?”
We both know that’s not a surprise. Not really. There’s something coiled under her skin–desire hidden under naïvety, an innate perception buried beneath the muddled whispers in her mind. Arianette has proven she’s the kind of person who doesn’t break easily, but bends on purpose.
ButNoir Sanctum?The image sticks like a splinter. Arianette on her knees or bent over something plush and dark, masked, mouth bare and begging. Hunter finally letting that thing inside him off the leash–pinching, twisting, slapping, choking–feeding her pain until she bloomed under it. Her body marked red from his hands, tears streaking under lace while she came apart again and again. And the King cloaked like always, but still pulling strings, deciding exactly how far the hurt could go before it crossed into damage.
While I was off chasing ghosts in East End, digging through my own wreckage, they were forging something raw and immediate–her surrendering to his darkness, him finally tasting what he’s alwaysstarved for, both of them guided by a voice neither of them can say no to.
I’m still chewing on that when we reach the sitting room. Slade sits on the couch just outside the door, scrolling on his phone and stroking Ares' fur. The dog perks up when he sees us–or really, sees Hunter.
“She’s in the bathroom,” Slade says, sliding the phone into his pocket.
The Baroness still isn’t allowed the freedom to move about on her own–not even in the house.
“Thanks for keeping an eye on her,” I say, fishing out the car keys in my pocket. “And thanks for letting me use the car.”
“No problem.” He stands and stretches, a loud yawn coming from his throat. “See you guys later.”
I follow Hunter into the bedroom while Ares follows close on our heels. I’ve noticed how alert he is, how close he follows Hunter’s every movement. He likes me well enough, same with the other guys in the house, but it’s clear Hunter is his person. The dog follows the command to go to his bed, where he sniffs the padding and circles around a few times before settling. I wish I could chill like that. Sniff out a safe, familiar place, turn myself around, and let my instincts kick in. Going home just made me feel more untethered. I unlace my boots and pull them off, then peel out of my jeans and shirt, leaving them in a heap on the floor.
Fuck, I just need to sleep and shake off this mood.
I slide into my bed, the sheets cool against my skin, and wait.
She comes out a minute later, braids loose around her shoulders, wearing a faded, oversized WXFU t-shirt that hits mid-thigh with soft, cotton sleep shorts underneath–simple, pale gray, the kind of thing that looks innocent until you realize how easy it would be to push aside. How easy it’d be to get to her warm pussy.
She and Hunter pass one another as he walks into the bathroom, and the tension that usually broils between them has gone down a couple of notches. A good fucking orgasm will do that.
She starts toward the bed she’s been using the past few nights,and something bubbles in my chest. “No,” I say, voice low. “You’re sleeping with me.”
