Chapter 5 Everett #2
I feel the word vibrating on her throat when she says it. A hand on her inner thigh has her back arching off the bed.
Giving her pleasure has never been part of the plan.
I grit my teeth and remind myself that this is a form of control. This is power. Not some fucked-up connection.
“Enough.” I rip myself off her seductive mouth, breathing hard.
Aurora’s supple lips glisten, tempting me. And her eyes, they’re so sad. How fucking heartless of her. Trying to convince me that she’s someone worth saving. An innocent who could give me what I need.
Liar. Like father, like adopted child.
“Why?” She reaches up to cup my cheek.
I bat it away.
“Do I look like I’m in a sharing mood?” My eyebrows crash together, and she sees me for who I am, shrinking into the bed with fear.
“You obviously hate me.” Her voice is small. Scared. Perfect. “So… Why are we getting married again?”
She doesn’t get it, even after the phone call.
She has no idea how badly her father wronged me and my family.
Or maybe she does.
For all I know, her innocent act could be a ruse.
“Because I fucking said so.”
When she tries to move to the side, to get away from my cock that’s pressed against her pussy, I pin her down harder to the bed with my hand on her thigh.
“You’ll walk down the aisle in front of everyone we know because I. Said. So.” I bite down on my bottom lip. “As my bride, you’ll wear virginal white, but it’ll only be for show. That same night, Aurora, I’m going to make you my whore.”
She slaps me across the face.
“Keep hitting me. Test me.” I sit up, glowering at her. “See how far that gets you.”
“You’re the one testing me.” Her eyes shoot daggers at me.
“I own you.” With my free hand, I pluck out the engagement gift I brought to her out of the tote and force it onto her wedding finger.
Aurora’s eyes widen at the ring. A cushion-cut diamond, over a million dollars’ worth, fit for someone I should love.
I don’t love Aurora. I’m mocking her with this ridiculously giant ring that glints under the light, sharp and blinding.
“I get to do whatever I want with you.”
Since Aurora snarls at the ring, I assume I’ve made my point and get on with it.
“You, on the other hand—”
“Go to hell.” Her choked voice is music to my ears.
It would be deliciously hoarse once I fuck her throat.
I lift her second present to her face. The sleek, black velvet box reveals nothing.
My future wife freaks out anyway. Nails clawing at my forearm over my shirt. Screams screeching in my ears.
“Stop it.” I have a hand around her throat, cutting off her air supply almost completely. “The staff was ordered to ignore your screams. Nevertheless, I’m not having it. I won’t have a brat for a wife. You will learn to behave.”
That quiets her. That also has tears running down her cheeks.
At last.
“Tell me,” she breathes out while I open the box. “Please, just tell me why you’re doing this.”
The small remote and the key to the collar are already in my pocket. I had a member of my staff buy it and charge the remote earlier today.
“As I mentioned, it’s because I want to.” I wrap the collar around her neck, then lock it. “Because you’re mine.”
Her cries of no and please turn me into a bloodthirsty vampire.
“Because you deserve it.”
“I don’t”—Aurora manages to slip from under me, then she’s scrambling off the bed. Hands raised between us, she backs up toward the door—“deserve anything.”
“Come back here.” I stay very still. “This is your last chance, brat.”
My thumb runs over the remote’s button. She’s too focused on my face to see me holding it.
“I’m going to leave now.” The sound of her fear is hot.
“No, you aren’t.”
I get up.
She walks backwards faster. “Watch me.”
“I’m watching you all right.” The remote is set on the lowest intensity. I’m closing in on her just in case she faints and drops to the floor. I want her hurt, not dead. Not damaged. “Come. Here.”
“You’re going to choke me?” She’s right there, at the doorway. A small figure beneath the high ceilings of my home. “Going to walk me like a dog down the aisle? No. No.”
The image she’s planted in my head stokes a flame within me. Every muscle in my body flexes with need.
Her, crawling to me.
Jesus.
“The wedding needs to look legit.”
For all our society’s crimes, treating her like a dog wouldn’t be forgiven. God knows I’ll need these assholes on my side to land the final blow on the Clarkes.
“We will, however, play.” My eyebrows knit together. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll be my wife. My toy. Whatever the hell I want you to be.”
“No.”
“Wow. Another no. Careful, or I’d think you’re getting paid to use this word.”
“Asshole.”
Click.
As soon as I press the button on the remote, electricity jolts her.
Her hand flies to her collar. The other one clutches the doorframe for dear life. “What—what the fuck?”
“She didn’t get to ask questions. Neither do you.” Anger pushes the confession out of me.
I’ve been meaning to keep it a secret. This vulnerability.
Unfortunately, this day has taken its toll on me.
“She?” Aurora’s brow furrows. “Who?”
My features twist into a frown. She has no idea who I’m talking about?
She should have. Though I’ve kept my family’s burial services private and out of the press, she should’ve heard about it. Eleven years have passed since. Eleven years that she’s been coming to the Royalty’s meetings, eleven years that her parents could’ve and should’ve mentioned it to her.
Not my problem.
“Hmm.” Tilting my head, I’m back into my body, clicking the button again.
“Everett, no!” Her nails dig into the doorframe. She’s desperate to stay standing.
“No, no, no.” I’m one foot away, clicking the button one, two, three times.
I’m not sure whether her peaked nipples or her “Fuck, stop doing it to me” get me harder.
I guess both. “This word has no power in this house. And neither do you.”
One click too many. Her eyes roll to the back of her head. Lids flutter shut.
Knees buckling.
My fiancée is beautiful, limp, and passed out.
In my arms.
Viciously mine.