Remus senses my emotions. The corner of his mouth slightly upturns. I wouldn’t notice it if I weren’t so close to him. He leans into me, his lips lightly pressing against my shoulder. He places a soft kiss there before moving closer to the base of my throat. His lips latch onto my exposed flesh, and I release a soft gasp as intense coils of pleasure spark from that area. I feel the warmth of his tongue moving in a circle on the skin, eliciting more pleasure. Against my better judgment, I release a shuddering breath, arching my throat.
The hard press of Remus’s erection straining against his pants presses against me as I squirm atop his lap. His hands roam over my body until he pulls me flush against him, a deep growl of approval emitting from his chest.
“Can you feel that?” he murmurs against my throat.
I don’t know if he’s referring to himself or my own arousal. I’m so lost in my growing need that I nearly jump out of my skin when a loud beep assaults my ears. Remus places a soft kiss against my shoulder, his laugh wafting over us.
“Time to prepare.”
After fighting with the servants and Remus’s threats, I am eventually cleaned and dressed for what I’m assuming is a special event. The tight material of the dress feels… foreign against my skin. It’s softer than anything I’ve felt before like it’s going to lift off of my flesh at any moment. I keep tugging at the hem of the dress in fear that it will ride up higher than my thighs.
I look up as Ruth approaches me with diamond-encased shoes with small heels on them.
“The master has chosen these for you to wear tonight,” she says in a monotonous tone. I stare at her in shock.
She spoke.
I tilt my head, trying to look into her eyes, but I can’t from this angle. Her head is lowered, focusing on my feet.
“Ruth?” I whisper.
She doesn’t respond.
“Ruth, can you hear me?” I whisper hastily.
“She can’t hear you, nor will she respond to you unless I will it.” I jump at the sound of Remus’s voice as he enters the room.
My mouth runs dry at the sight of him. He’s dressed in regal attire, I assume. He’s wearing all white, which strangely adds emphasis to his own hair. The top of his clothing has a high collar and a cape latched around the front. But his hair isn’t pulled back all the way. He has it in a half-up style with a jeweled pendant holding it in place.
Wherever we’re going, it must involve his society.
“And her name isn’t Ruth,” he says, shocking me out of my ogling. I mentally slap myself. I completely forgot that I named them myself. Of course, he would find fault in that. Remus walks toward us, and Ruth moves before he has to utter a single word. He takes her place and finishes fastening the shoes around my feet.
“You will be on your best behavior tonight,” he says.
His eyes don’t leave his task, but he doesn’t have to look at me for me to know how serious he is at this moment.
“Remember the rules, and things will run smoothly. Defy me, and you may very well get yourself killed.” I flinch at his words.
Remus isn’t one to make idle threats, as I’ve come to learn living in his care the past few months. He stands, and I expect him to walk away, but he doesn’t. He pulls out a crystallized choker. It would pass for a choker if we were normal, and I hadn’t seen these before.
The center jewel is the same symbol on Remus’s body. It looks beautiful, but I recognize it for what it truly is.
It’s his way of branding me for the public eye.
For the first time since he told me to consider myself broken, I feel a flicker ignite inside of me. All the resentment I’ve kept stashed away for the sake of survival comes rushing to the surface. I narrow my eyes at him, and I know the moment he sees my rebellious spirit.
“You’re crazy if you think I’m putting that on,” I snap.
Remus doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak, he just stares me down. Then, his eyebrow raises ever so slightly, and I see something gleam behind that amethyst gaze—something dangerous. He reaches for me, and I do my best to stand my ground. His hand brushes acrossmy collarbone lightly then trails to the low collar of the dress. He silently loops a finger underneath the fabric and yanks me roughly into him.
I cry out, stumbling into his chest, and he takes the moment to capture me with that harsh gaze.
“I’d rather not get blood on such a lovely dress.” His gaze drops to the dress, taking in every stitch and embellishment, genuinely admiring the fabric as he considers whether or not to stain it with my blood. He then raises his gaze to meet mine, and I can see the blue flecks within the purple burning bright.
In my time with him, I’ve come to learn Remus’s tells. The blue in his eyes should never burn brighter than the purple. That’s a very bad thing, no matter what the expression on his face gives. He stands over me, knowing that I am waging war within myself on whether or not to battle him.
“Do not push me, Iris. You will not like the result.”