Page 18 of House of Crimson Cloak and Silver Teeth

From being touched by him.

This isn’t real. I don’t get off on this shit. I’m not some—

The wet heat in my leathers says otherwise. Shame floods through me so intense it makes my stomach turn.

His hand slides up my chest. “Look at this. My hand is all sloppy and slick with your release.”

He presses his wet fingers against my chest, dragging them across my skin. Proof of what just happened.

“Can’t even call this a punishment if you’re getting off on it.” He chuckles low and dark. “You’re a masochist, Wolf. Does the guild know that about you?”

I can barely breathe. My shoulders scream from the position, but the rest of my body feels liquid and warm.

“Now,” Garrett says, tone shifting back to business. “Who sent you?”

My brain struggles to process what just happened. “I already told you. I can’t—“

“Come on, Wolf. Give me something.” His voice is almost gentle now. Almost.

“I’m here to protect you.” The words come out desperate. “Please. Please just believe me.”

I’m begging. I never beg.

But the alternative is worse. If I fail this contract, if I lose it by revealing the client, the guild will send me to the crypts. I’ll be shipped to Tiamat the very next day. I’ve seen what happens down there. I don’t want to rot in the dark.

“Who hired you?” Garrett asks again. “Give me the name of the Silverra.”

Terror claws up my throat. “I can’t. I can’t tell you that. They’ll—”

I hear him moving.

His footsteps crossing the stone floor and the sound of liquid pouring into a glass. A chair scrapes across the floor as he pulls it out. I think he’s drinking by what sounds like the fireplace, settling in like he has all the time in the world.

Silence stretches. Is he reading or just sitting there watching me? I can’t tell. But I can feel his presence and he hasn’t left. At least he didn’t just walk out and abandon me here.

The quiet drags on. I hear him take another sip. Pages turning? Or am I imagining that? He’s carrying on like this is a normal evening while I hang here half-naked and desperate.

My throat is parched and dry as sand. I want water but I’m too afraid to ask. I’m scared asking for anything will make him leave.

“Lord Clayborne,” I try again. “I’m telling you the truth. I’m here to protect you. That’s all. Please believe me.”

Silence. But different now. I can feel his attention shift. He’s watching me and assessing, deciding whether I’m lying.

The silence stretches too long. My heart hammers against my ribs. What if he doesn’t believe me? What if he leaves me here? What if—

“Were you always this quick?” Garrett asks suddenly.

What the fuck is he even asking?

Anger flares through the fear. “What does that have to do with anything?”

A low, dark laugh echoes through the room.

He doesn’t actually care about the answer anymore. I can hear it in his voice. This isn’t interrogation. He’s playing with me, seeing how far he can push before I break completely.

The bastard is enjoying this.

“You came so beautifully,” he murmurs, voice rough with satisfaction. “But I want to see it again.”