Page 151 of Auctioned

I squat, hauling him over my shoulder. A strange feeling—some would call itconcern—nags at my chest. It pushes me towalk faster. I grab the gold keys I hide in my den and dispose of my son in the cell.

He doesn’t belong there. He also can’t be anywhere near her.

Once he’s locked inside, I take the stairs two at a time.

I yank open the door to my bedroom and run to where she waits for me.

On the floor next to our bed.

Fiery dark eyes shoot daggers at me. She screams behind the duct tape, lying on her side and wrestling against the ropes.

Beautiful. Feral. Majestic.

Possibly injured.

“Sonnet.”

“Mmmm!”

I go back to the door, lock it behind me, switch on the lamp on the bedside table, and drop to my knees.

Before I tear the tape off her mouth, I slide a hand between her head and the rug. Dry. No bleeding, thank fuck. Next, I trail a hand over her naked body. Her shoulders, breasts, ribs.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t cry out in pain.

Just screams at me the entire time.

“Good. Nothing’s broken.” I nod to myself, then narrow my eyes at Ophelia while I carry her to the bed. “I should punish you for what you did.”

I didn’t think her eyes could get any wider, or that her attempts to scream could get any louder.

Life is a learning curve, I guess.

I throw her on the bed, pinning my hands to my hips. I’d have placed her on the bed if I were a better man.

I am not.

“Punishment for what? Is that what you’re asking?”

She answers me with more muted screams.

I’m reeling from Topher’s deranged pleas. It’s the second time I’ve heard them.

And I hate this, hate worrying for her so fucking much.

“He could’ve come up here.” I move up on the bed, gripping one end of the duct tape. Leveling our gazes. Hers is heated. Furious. I imagine mine is murderous, and yet she doesn’t cower. “You…”

With my free hand, I trail the line of her jaw, my knuckles grazing her skin.

“You could’ve damaged my property. Throwing yourself off the bed like that.”

Tilting my head, I start peeling off the duct tape.

“Do you understand now?” A hint of her hot breath flutters on my fingers. She’s alive, a message that keeps repeating in my head. Alive and blinking furiously at me. “Why my hand itches to belt you until your ass bleeds?”

Ophelia eyes me as if she’s going to shove a knife into my jugular the first chance she gets. The throbbing in my sweatpants is just as violent.

I need to hear her.

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