Page 29 of His Dark Vices

"I don't want to," I say honestly.

My enthusiasm has completely melted away, thanks to those girls' derisive giggles. I just know they were rolling their eyes. Who comes here just to dance? And they asked him to come find him, like they knew he'd soon get bored with me. I look down at my dress. It hugs my body and flatters me, but next to them, I look like a fucking nun.

"You don't want to dance?" Sam asks.

"No," I say firmly.

Suddenly, I'm annoyed at this whole situation. They think they can ridicule me and take Sam away easily. I don't know what his reputation is around here, but one thing's for sure. He's here with me tonight. And I'm not letting him leave with thoughts of any other woman.

"I don't want to dance," I say more clearly. "I want to do a scene."

CHAPTER 11

Bree

"You sure you know what you're asking for?"

I can hear Sam grinning through his mask, and although he's checking on me, making sure I'm firm in my decision, I can sense that he's excited, too. He wants me to want this.

"I have no idea," I admit. "But I want to try it."

And that's the truth. My palms are starting to prickle with sweat, and my heart is beating hard in my chest. I have no idea what to expect. All I know is I want to prove that I'm not some boring girl who only likes to dance. I can hold his attention just as well as anyone else can.

And I want to. I do want his attention on me, on me and no one else tonight.

Sam takes my hand and leads me around the dance floor, the two of us following in the footsteps of Kitty and Mouse. As we pass the dancing crowd, weaving between people coming and going, I think about how the night could have just ended here, soclose to the front door. Now we're making our way deeper into the club, and who knows what's waiting for me there.

Sam is sure of himself as he takes me out of the main room and down a hallway. The music soon begins to fade, and we find ourselves in a slightly smaller room. Doors in the far walls lead to places beyond, which will have to remain a mystery for now. We're headed to the illuminated stage in the center of the room, which is surrounded by chairs, sofas, and huge floor pillows of all kinds. People in various states of dress lounge around, facing the stage like they're waiting for a show.

And we're heading not for a place to sit, but for the stage itself.

I hesitate, my footsteps slowing—until I notice Kitty and Mouse reclined in front of the stage, as well. Except they aren't looking forward. They're looking at us.

My grip tightens in Sam's hand, and I keep walking.

I'm not going to chicken out in front of them.

But what's going to happen to me on that stage?

I square my shoulders and try to walk confidently after Sam as he walks up onto the stage. The sound of my heels clicking on the wood seems to echo in the room, even though music is playing low from somewhere. We can hear a faint thumping beat from the main room, but mostly, it's just the sounds of the people shuffling, waiting for the show to begin.

When we get to the center, there's just a single remote sitting there. Sam picks it up, and it looks pretty simple. With a touch of a button, a rustling from above is triggered, and red gauzy sheets descend. I look all around, and relief washes over me. We may be in the middle of all these watchers, but it looks like only our silhouettes will be visible. I can see shadowy figures through the red, but that's it.

"Are you ready for this?" Sam whispers beside me, just as the rattling of a chain sounds from above.

I look up to see a chain descending from the ceiling, with two strips of black silk attached to the end, which is getting nearer. A chill races down my spine, and Sam reaches up to calmly grab the black silk.

"You haven't answered me, little Bunny."

I look at Sam's wolf mask, and I notice my breathing is coming quicker within my own mask, making it feel stuffy.

Am I ready for this?

I offer him my hands, knowing the chain is meant for me. He gently encircles my wrist with his fingers, stroking his thumb over my skin.

"I'm ready," I whisper back, finally.

Sam raises my arms into the air and makes quick work of securing my wrists firmly to the chain above. When the knots are tied, I strain against the silk, testing its strength, and Sam starts to squat slowly. I feel his hands on my arms, slipping lower all the way down the length of my body, down my sides, past my hips, down to my thighs, and all the way down my legs. He helps me out of my heels, but as he sets them aside, out of our way, my feet struggle to find sure footing on the floor—I can't rest my feet flat.

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