Page 23 of His Dark Cravings

The revelation hits me hard, but before I can react, she's gone, melding into the swarm of dolls rushing to prepare. My mind races, each step heavy with dread as I make my way upstairs and to the living room.

There, spread out neatly, are the outfits for the night. My breath hitches as I pick up mine. The fabric is silk, smooth, and cool against my skin. But there's so little of it—the dress is black, with cutouts that leave the curve of my shoulders bare and a neckline that plunges low. It's also mostly sheer, which explains the lacy lingerie set lying beside it.

Xavier chose this, knowing how it will make me feel. I can almost hear his voice, imagine him selecting it with care.

Looking up, I notice Winter, who is examining her own outfit with a critical eye.

"Need help?" she asks. When I hesitate, she steps over. "Let me show you," she says, her hands deft as she smooths the fabric. "The key is to wear it like you own it," she advises, her voice holding an unexpected warmth.

The solidarity I feel with her is sudden and strong, bridging the gap between us. As we help each other, the other dolls begin to assemble, their own outfits equally revealing. Seeing them, I realize I’m not alone in this, though it offers little comfort. The thought sends a wave of determination through me—I can get through this.

I have the whole day to psych myself up.

Before I know it, it's time to get dressed, and I've hardly seen Xavier at all. The dressing room buzzes with a strange sort of energy. Gowns of silk and lace are draped across every surface, a chaotic tableau of expensive fabric. I watch Winter apply eyeshadow. Sable scowls at her reflection, tugging at a leather bodice. Lila, nearly naked, preens before a full-length mirror.

"You look like you’re about to be sacrificed," Lila says to me, her tone light but sharp as she turns to survey my face. "Don’t worry, they'll need you as the centerpiece. But those brows? You can do better."

She strides over, taking the brush from my hand. Her touch is surprisingly gentle as she shapes my brows and applies liner. I close my eyes and feel her breath on my face. It smells sweet, and for some reason, the thought makes my cheeks grow hot. When I take a peek, I'm mesmerized by her skill, the way she transforms my face into something more dramatic.

She steps back, studying her work with a satisfied smirk. "Better."

Winter studies me, her head tilted. "Better, sure. But your lips need more color."

She dabs a deep plum stain on me, giving my lips a sensual fullness I have never seen before. Sable adds a touch of highlighter to my cheekbones, the light catching my skin in a way that makes me blush. Again, I feel like a doll being dressed, my self-consciousness almost unbearable.

We stand together before the wide mirror, four reflections side by side, as we take a final look at ourselves. The black silk of my dress hugs every curve, the sheer panels revealing glimpses of the lacy lingerie beneath. The neckline dips between my breasts, and the cutouts frame my shoulders. My honey-blonde waves cascade over my back, and the plum stain on my lips makes them look fuller, more inviting.

Lila poses next to me in what can barely be called clothing—strips of red silk that crisscross her body, leaving more skin exposed than covered. Diamond studs in her nipples glint through the gossamer-thin fabric, and the hem skims the tops of her thighs. Her black curls tumble wild and free, matching the untamed look in her emerald eyes.

Winter stands tall and elegant in white, her platinum bob sleek against her neck. Her dress clings to her willowy frame, the fabric gathering at strategic points to emphasize her slim waist and long legs. The ice-blue of her eyes matches the crystal droplets dangling from her ears.

Sable's outfit is all leather and attitude—a deep purple corset that highlights her athletic build, paired with fitted black pants that showcase her toned legs. Her red hair falls in waves down her back, the color bold against the dark leather.

"Well, aren't we just the prettiest set of dolls," Lila purrs, running her hands down her sides. "Xavier outdid himself with these choices."

I catch my reflection again, hardly recognizing myself. The woman in the mirror looks dangerous, seductive—everything I'm not supposed to be.

"Stop overthinking it," Winter says, adjusting my hair as she reads my mind. "You look perfect."

Sable snorts, tugging at her corset again. "Perfect for what exactly?"

The other dolls join me in ignoring Sable, who doesn't seem to mind, then we head off together, exiting the room. When we get upstairs, the dining room is transformed, the table set with fine china and crystal. The guests arrive in waves, each more perplexing than the last. Xavier stands at the head of the table, leading the conversations with a confidence that is both captivating and intimidating.

As everyone takes their seats, I notice the dynamics unfolding. Some guests have brought along their own submissive women, some obvious in their roles, others more subtle. I can sense the silent dance of power, each movement, each word laced with undercurrents I'm only beginning to understand.

I take my place beside Xavier at the head of the table, close enough that I feel the warmth radiating from his side. The other dolls settle in around us, a picture of beauty and danger. I try to keep my hands still in my lap. Despite the low din, the tension in the room tightens with each guest who enters.

Xavier pushes back his chair, the legs scraping softly against the wood floor, and stands. The room quiets as he raises a hand, a movement that draws all eyes to him.

"Welcome, everyone," his voice booms, smooth and rich. "I’m delighted you could join me for this evening. Please, enjoy the food and make yourselves at home."

A buzz rises as he sits, conversations breaking out around the table. Lila leans toward a man to her right, her laugh like a bell. Sable engages in a heated debate with somebody across from her, her hands gesturing. Winter remains still beside me and Xavier, silent, her eyes watching. I try to ignore her gaze.

My eyes wander around the room, taking it all in. Some of the other women with the guests are dressed in ways that make my skin crawl. Several of them are in what amount to wisps of fabric. One is wearing nothing but a few carefully placed strands of jewels. They look pleased—they smile proudly at their men, their heads hung in a way that seems like reverence. The display is both stimulating and unnerving.

"Lost in thought?"

The voice cuts through the murmur, drawing me back. It’s Xavier, his green eyes studying me.

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