Page 69 of His to Hunt

"It doesn't have to be."

"Then what is it?"

"Uncomfortable," I admit, the word hanging between us.

A pause settles, heavy with implication.

I step closer, my chest brushing against hers. My hand lifts to her throat—not to grip, not yet, just to rest there against the delicate skin that flutters with her pulse. A reminder of what she wears when she's mine.

"You asked me why I act like I'm angry," I murmur, feelingher breath catch. "I'm not." I lean in, my voice brushing the shell of her ear, warm and intimate. "I'm possessive. That's different."

She shudders beneath my touch, and I feel it like a victory.

"I gave you space," I continue, "and you smiled like you forgot what it felt like to be claimed."

"I didn't," she whispers, her voice catching.

"You did." My fingers trace the line of her throat, following the path where her collar usually sits. "I was watching. The way you laughed. The way you moved. Like you were someone else. Someone who didn't belong to me."

I pull back just enough to meet her eyes, finding them wide and dark with something that isn't entirely fear.

"So now I'll remind you."

I cross the room with measured steps, moving to the polished wardrobe near the wall. I open the doors with deliberate calm. Inside, a single hanger, draped in black lace and nothing else. I lift it, watching her reflection in the mirror as understanding dawns in her expression.

She doesn't move as I return to her, dress in hand. The lace is sheer, barely-there, cut with delicacy and cruelty. It hides only what's absolutely necessary, revealing everything else. It says everything I don't have to put into words.

She stares at it, then at me, her throat working around a swallow.

"You want me to wear that?" Her voice is steady despite the flush creeping up her neck.

I nod once, watching her process what this means.

"For what?"

"For me," I say simply. Then, "For them."

Her eyebrows lift fractionally. "Them?"

"Tonight, you don't get to pretend you're invisible." I setthe hanger carefully on the back of the couch and cup her chin between my fingers. "You're going to kneel for me in a room full of monsters. And you're going to make them wish they were me. That they had you instead."

Her breath hitches, pupils dilating at the implication.

"And when they ask who you are?" I lean in until our foreheads nearly touch, my voice dropping to something just above a whisper. "I'll say nothing."

"Because they already know," she finishes, understanding perfectly what tonight will mean.

"Because they already know," I confirm, satisfaction curling through me. "Now get dressed. We have somewhere to be."

Her fingers reach hesitantly for the dress, and I can already see her mapped out in black lace, pale skin against midnight silk, wearing my claim for everyone to witness.

"What's happening tonight?" she asks, her voice steadier than I expected.

I smile, slow and predatory. "Your introduction to the real world I inhabit, little thief. And their introduction to what happens when someone touches what's mine."

Twenty-Six

LUNA

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