Page 122 of Reign

My mind gives the man my face.

The image settles too easily. My ring on her hand. My bed. My knees framing her shoulders while that argumentative mouth finally finds a use that doesn’t involve arguing with me.

Replacing myself with another man makes irritation press beneath my ribs.

“You’re asking me to choose the man who gets to keep you.”

Her brows rise. “Why do you sound personally victimized by that?”

“I don’t.”

“You do.” She studies me for a second. “What, do you want to marry me?”

“No.” The answer comes easily. “Marriage has never been part of my plans.”

“Excellent. Then you’re safe.” A teasing smile touches her lips. “I’m asking you to help me find someone who does.”

The image of my ring on her finger returns.

I ignore it.

Several candidates come to mind anyway. Experienced Doms whose restraint, discretion, and judgment I trust. Men I’ve allowed into my clubs for years.

Every one of them becomes intolerable when I imagine him touching her.

I keep that reaction from my face.

Elena shifts beneath my silence. Her gaze searches mine, and the uncertainty she’s been hiding begins to show again. She thinks I’m considering whether any man would want her.

I’m considering whether I could tolerate any of them.

“What qualifications would this hypothetical husband need?” I ask.

“Experienced,” she says. “Patient. Safe. Someone who doesn’t treat submission like permission to do anything he wants.”

“Reasonable.”

“And loyal.”

I could leave it alone.

I don’t want to.

“The glitter continues to trouble you.”

Color warms her cheeks. “This has nothing to do with your glitter.”

“My glitter?”

“The glitter that was on you. Don’t become emotionally attached to it.”

I smile. “You’re still thinking about it.”

“No, you’re thinking about it. You brought it up. I’m thinking about my standards.”

“You wanted to know where it came from.”

“I wanted it off your shirt.”