Page 33 of Queen of Diamonds

I told myself that as I shivered, counting the seconds like I used to do to stay afloat.

Finally, he turned the water off, seeming satisfied.

“Get up.”

I staggered to my feet, needing this to be over. Needing him to be done. His hatred saturated his scent, making it impossible to escape.

He looked me up and down, eyes snagging on my chest where my dress clung for dear life over my tits. He stepped closer and his proximity triggered a cascade of confusing reactions in my half functional Omega brain. Torment crumbled for comfort, as if being close to him might fix everything.

He was my mate, after all.

He’d brought me here to protect me—just like he was supposed to.

I shoved that away much too late.

“You want to know the part that brings me the most satisfaction?” he asked, cupping my chin and forcing me to look at him.

My hair stuck to my face, dripping down my body, and my shivers wracked me head to toe. I jumped as I felt his hand brush the underside of my breast, trailing up just slightly.

Heat speared my core and I stifled a whimper. Traitorous. Desperate. Fucking foolish. He was everything I’d dreamed of through heat after heat. A desperation I’d come to resent.

“I almost believe that if I offered my touch…” His finger circled my nipple through the thin fabric. “...You might just beg.”

I clenched my teeth to fight my whine.

“Why is that, after everything?” he asked. “The scent match? Or maybe I remind you of my brother?”

I flinched back, bile rising in my throat. I reacted in a flash of rage, and struck him across the cheek before I could catch myself.

He went deathly still, head turned, pupils constricted. The cool santal of his scent turning to ice.

“I was going to let you have a visitor—even though you almost got my pack mate killed for her today, but now?—”

“What…?” My voice shook.

Lucy?

He was going to let Lucy in?

I needed to see her.

I shoved the tears back. I’d endured worse, I told myself again. So, so much worse without tears, and yet it was harder to fight them now than ever before.

He was my mate.

He was one third of the tiny slice of comfort I’d used for years as a crutch, and that crutch, flimsy, desperate and weak as it was, was dissolving at last.

A trickle of blood trailed down Zed’s cheek from where my nails had made contact.

He drew his finger along the scratch, examining the drop of blood, a cruel smile on his face.

He pressed his thumb to my lips and I tasted the tang of iron on my tongue. “Kiss it better, Glade. Apologise. Get on your knees and beg me. I might change my mind.”

He was taunting me.

He wouldn’t change his mind.

I could do all of those things, and he would never let Lucy visit. I recognised the wounded pride of a Maverick with deadly clarity. That same look had cost me over and over. That look alone was almost enough to turn me back into the shell I’d once been.

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