Page 71 of Damsel in Disguise

Every night, the thought alone takes everything in me to not leave Delilah and reach for Ariella instead, and fuck her in front of an audience.

Ever so slowly, the hesitation is thinning in her. The fear is dulling at the edges. Each night she lingers a second longer, moves a little bolder, breathes a little heavier against me. She’s starting to understand exactly what she’s allowed to do.

It’s as if I’m feeding into her ego simply by letting her continue this ultimate sin. It promises a payoff worth the wait.

Tonight, she doesn’t leave the way she always does. No quiet escape through the window followed by her shadow dissolving into the night.

She chose the door instead. I heard the faint click barely enough to register, but my body noted it anyway.

And of course, that’s when Delilah decides to stir up, pulling me out of my feigned slumber.

“Where are you going?”

“I thought I heard something,” her voice cuts through the quietude, drowsy but alert enough to be a problem.

Fuck.

For five fucking nights, she’s been oblivious. Blissfully, conveniently blind. And now she decides to question.

My eyelids flatter to adjust my vision to the dim light to study her. My mind wanders if this is the moment she finally stops playing ignorant. If she’s about to run to the Triarch Dominion to whisper about my infidelity curling on her tongue.

“It’s nothing,” I pull her back against me. “Go back to sleep.”

For a second, it almost works. Then we both hear a faint commotion downstairs. For fuck’s sake. I nearly roll my eyes.

She stiffens and pushes against my chest. “Alistair…”

I don’t let the irritation show.

“Why don’t you stay here,” I say, already shifting out of bed, “while I go and take a look downstairs?”

Her eyes flick toward the door, uncertainty creeping in. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“No,” the word comes out softer than it feels. “It might not be safe for you. Stay here, okay?”

A lie wrapped in concern always lands better.

She hesitates, then nods reluctantly.

I drag a hand down my face before adjusting my sweatpants. The fabric clings uncomfortably at the front because of the damp patch pressing cool against my skin—evidence of exactly what just happened. On top of that, I’m still semi-erect.

A quiet exhale leaves me as I step out of the bedroom, closing the door behind me. The moment I step out, I’m not looking for an intruder. I’m looking for her.

My every sense alert as I make my way down the stairs although I already know whom I’ll find.

There Ariella stands in the brightly lit kitchen, the soft glow from the overhead light catches against the sleek black of her outfit.

A bowl of chocolate-mint ice cream sits in her hand, entirely at odds with the scene—too casual for what she’s been doing in the shadows.

My mouth curves. “Eager to be caught, little kitty?”

The name fits too well.

The mask she’s wearing, those cat ears perched on top, only feeds the image already forming in my head. Something small yet feral, deceptively soft yet dangerous.

Something that would look even better on its knees with a leash on my hand that’s wrapped tight around its throat.

Her shoulders flinch subtly. I like the reaction.