Page 49 of Compulsion

“I know you won’t hurt me,” I breathe, lacing my fingers more tightly through his.

His eyes rake over my face, reading every nuance of my expression.

“But you want me to.”

My stomach drops to the floor.

He can’t know. I can’t let him see that fucked-up part of me. He’ll be disgusted, and he’ll walk away from me forever this time.

I remember the way my lust surged when he stood over me after I faked my orgasm. I’d been afraid that he’d read my moment of dark desire in response to his dangerous aura, the power of his fury. That beautiful, terrible scowl directed at me had made me wet.

I open my mouth to protest, to try to salvage this, but he speaks before I can find the desperate words to keep him close.

“You chose the dark god, Abigail.” He repeats the secret he plucked from my soul when we talked aboutThe Invisible Life of Addie LaRue.

My heart shreds, pain lancing deep in my chest.

He knows.

And I can’t bring myself to lie to him again.

Shame presses down on my shoulders, and my head dips in defeat. I drop my eyes to the cream rug, unable to bear the censure that I’ll see in his handsome face.

Two fingers touch my chin, and my ravaged heart gives a weak flutter as he lifts my gaze back to him.

His eyes blaze with green fire: desire, not disgust. “I choose the dark god too.”

Hope buds in my chest, wrapping my aching heart in tentative warmth.

“What are you saying?”

“I want you, Abigail. I want all that you are, and that includes the dark parts of your heart. Because they match my own perfectly.”

My lower lip trembles as my hope surges through me. “I didn’t think you’d understand,” I confess. “You’re a good man. You’ve proven that you want to protect me.”

He cups my cheek, grounding me to him. “I will always protect you. And I will never violate your trust. But I suspect that I have your consent to indulge in my darker games.”

Desire shudders through me, strong enough to make my fingers tremble.

He caresses my shaking hand. “Don’t be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” I promise. “I’m scared you’ll leave if you find out what I’m really like. I don’t want to lose you.”

“You have me, Abigail. I’m not going anywhere.”

My tongue darts out to wet my suddenly dry lips. “I’ve never talked to anyone about this. I don’t think I know how.”

His thumb traces the shape of my mouth, and my sensitive lips tingle at the tender contact.

“This is new territory for me too,” he admits. “I’m skilled at what I do, but I’ve never kept a submissive of my own before.”

My pulse quickens. I’ve spent enough time reading erotica that I’m familiar with BDSM, even if my own fantasies have always blurred the lines of consent.

“Do you understand what I’m talking about?” he asks, his eyes searching mine.

I swallow hard and nod.

His jaw tightens. “Have you engaged in BDSM before?”

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