Chapter 8 #2
Annie moved away from me, putting distance between us as she crossed to the window.
“We need to establish parameters,” she said, her voice trying for professional but landing somewhere near desperate. “How do you want me to act so I blend in?”
I leaned back against the control panel, crossing my arms. I let my gaze drag over her slowly. “Blend in as what, exactly?”
“As your...” She waved her hand. “Whatever the Syndicate thinks I’m supposed to be. Your date? Your assistant? Your...”
“Whore?” I offered.
Her jaw tightened. “I just need you to dictate the terms of our interactions tonight.”
I studied the rigid set of her shoulders, the way she clasped her hands together to stop them from trembling.
Terms. Parameters. She was trying to build a cage of rules to survive the night.
Annie Bishop didn’t know how to exist without her precious rulebooks, so she was trying to force me to write a new one.
For a fraction of a second, I considered giving her what she thought she wanted.
I could lay out the boring basics. The rigid etiquette of the League, the tedious, bloody dance of villainous networking.
I could draw her a map of safe conversational topics and acceptable physical distances to keep her comfortable.
But I knew better.
My mind spun the variables, calculating the staggering weight of what she had just handed me. Dictate the terms. She was giving me a blank check to her autonomy, practically begging me to put a leash on her so she wouldn’t have to bear the responsibility of her own actions.
I’d seen her search history. I knew what she consumed in the dark of her bedroom while her vibrator hummed against her clit. I knew exactly which tags she filtered for, the digital breadcrumbs of her true nature.
Non-con. Power imbalance. Corruption.
She didn’t want a gentleman to hold her hand and guide her safely through the dark. She wanted a monster. She just didn’t have the courage to ask for one in the light of day.
I could give her that. I could drag those fantasies out of the screen and make them breathe. I could make her beg for the very things she spent her waking hours pretending to despise.
I pushed off the console and stalked toward her. She took a half-step back, her heel hitting the wall. She had nowhere to go.
“Tonight, you’re not my assistant. You’re not my date.” I leaned in until I could feel the erratic flutter of her breath against my jaw. I watched her throat work as she swallowed.
“You’re my plaything.” I let the word hang there, tasting it.
If we played this right, my ratings would skyrocket. But if I was being brutally honest, fuck the ratings. I had Annie exactly where I wanted her, trapped in the sky, wearing my colors, waiting for my command.
“Fine,” she breathed, though her voice shook. “How do you want me to act? What helps your image?”
Oh, sweet, broken Annie. Even now, treating her own degradation like a mission objective.
“Tonight,” I murmured, “you don’t act. You submit.”
Annie’s complexion went a shade paler. She looked brittle, like one wrong move would shatter her.
I leaned in and reached up to trace a finger along the edge of her mask.
“Tonight, you anchor yourself to me,” I murmured, my finger trailing down to hook under her chin, forcing her head up. “Without my hand on you, you don’t move. Without my permission, you don’t speak. You look at me like I’m the only thing keeping you from drowning.”
Her breath hitched, a jagged sound, but she didn’t pull away.
“When I touch you, and I will touch you, Annie, everywhere and often, you lean into it.” My thumb pressed against her lower lip, dragging it down. “You let the entire room see that you are accessible to me. That I have the right to put my hands wherever I want, whenever I want.”
Her lipstick was the color of fresh arterial blood. A deep, wet red. My thumb smeared it, ruining the perfect line. Mine.
“And when I kiss you, you’ll open for me. You’ll let me taste you in front of the League, in front of the press, in front of everyone. You’ll kiss me like a woman who knows she’s going to end the night on her knees.”
Annie’s hand gripped the window frame behind her so hard her knuckles turned white.
“And later,” I whispered, letting the darkness bleed fully into my voice. “When I decide to use you...” I traced a finger down the exposed line of her throat, over her collarbone, stopping at the sheer fabric covering her breast.
“If I press you against a wall in a dark corridor and lift this dress, you widen your stance. If I slide my hand between your legs while we’re speaking to a donor, you soak my fingers.”
She was trembling now.
“You accept everything I give you. The pain, the pleasure, the degradation. You wear it like a crown.” My hand moved to her throat, wrapping loosely around it.
Reminding her who held the leash. “No one will see Annie Bishop tonight. They won’t see the prim Keeper with her little rulebook.
They’ll see my possession. My creature.”
I leaned closer, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “You will let them believe that I have broken you, Annie. And you will make them jealous of the pieces.”
Annie swallowed hard, her eyes darting from where my eyes would be to my mouth and back.
“I don’t know if I can do all of that.” Her voice shook. “I’ve never really...” She trailed off, unable to finish the thought, but the panic in her eyes was loud enough.
“I’m not an actor,” she stammered. “I’m a Keeper, Cipher. I file paperwork. I help schedule matches. I stand in the background. I’m not supposed to be looked at.”
“Everyone looks at you, Annie,” I corrected. “You just refuse to see it. You’re prey who thinks she’s invisible just because she’s standing still.”
“No.” She shook her head, a jerky, frantic motion. “I can’t. I don’t know how to be what you want. What happens if... what happens if it’s too much? What if you—“
“Stop.”
I cut her off before the spiral could take hold. I needed Annie functional, not fractured.
I hated giving up ground. I hated handing over even a fraction of control. The very idea of limiting myself chafed at me. But if she hyperventilated before we even stepped into the Continuum, the game was over. I needed to give her a lifeline.
“I’ll give you a word,” I said, the concession feeling wrong, like a crack in my armor.
She blinked, confusion warring with the fear. “A what?”
“I’m going to touch you,” I said, keeping my voice low and hard.
I didn’t sugarcoat it because she needed to know the terms of her surrender.
“I’m not asking, Annie. I’m telling. I’m going to put my hands on your ass and pull you against my cock.
I’m going to kiss you. I have to sell this lie, and I plan on enjoying it.
I’m going to make everyone in that room think I’m fucking you the second we leave. ”
I leaned down, trapping her gaze.
“But if the reality of belonging to me becomes too much for your sensibilities... you say the word, and I stop that specific action.”
“You’ll stop?” Her skepticism was palpable. “Just because I say a word?”
“I want you trembling, Annie. But I want it to be because you’re desperate for my touch, not because you’re paralyzed by terror. Paralysis is boring.”
She swallowed hard. “What’s the word?”
I considered mercy. Please. Stop. All too weak. She would choke on them before she used them.
“Truce.” It was bitter, but it fit. We were technically enemies, after all. “But understand this, Bishop. That word is a nuclear option. It is a last resort. Until you say that word, you are mine. Until you say that word, I will do whatever I want to you. Do you understand?”
She stared up at me, the reality of the bargain sinking in. I took her silence as consent.
“Say it now. Prove you can use it.”
Her lips parted. Nothing came out. She didn’t want to accept the weapon because she knew it came with a cost.
“Say. It.”
“Truce,” she whispered.
I smirked, though my blood was running hot. “Good girl.”
I felt the exact moment those two words hit her system.
Her jaw clenched in immediate annoyance, bristling at the condescension. But beneath my hand, her pulse hammered a different rhythm against her throat. Her pupils dilated, swallowing the fake brown irises, betraying the thrill it had given her.
She hated that she liked it. She hated that her body was already surrendering to the leash.
“Sir, we’ve arrived at the destination,” Number Three announced.
I didn’t step back immediately. I let her stay trapped for five more seconds, letting her feel the inevitability of what was coming. I trailed my fingers down her delicate throat, brushing down the valley of her breasts before I dropped my hand to my side.
“Are you ready?”
Annie took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. She looked like she was stepping onto an executioner’s scaffold, but her chin was high.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Through the viewport, the blood-red lights of the Continuum stained the night sky. The wolves were gathering.
I offered her my arm and she took another steadying breath. Then, with a look of resignation, she slipped her hand through it.
“Showtime,” I murmured as the loading ramp began to descend.