Page 65 of Inside the Sun

"Not bad. Now tell me, how’d you get yourself hard?"

Only a lie can save me. But it has to be a clever lie. Something I can use again if he expects this from me in the future.

"I imagined Summer fucking me."

His eyebrows lift slightly. He turns his head toward his husband, almost curiously, assessing him. Summer seems even more stiff. Well, he’s objectively attractive. He has a nice ass, round and full, a thin waist, and quite sexy, puffy nipples, but these are features usually appreciated on omegas, and it’s not what I look for. I prefer more… impressive, muscular bodies, more of a rough type, a different energy.

"That worked? Thought you said you weren’t into omegas."

"I’m not. But he is the only person in that room I don’t hate. And he’s easy on the eye, objectively speaking."

He holds my gaze.

"Fair." His mouth twists into a cold smile. "You just got yourself a new job. Summer can thank you… for temporary leave from his duties."

I hesitate. This could be my only chance.

"Can I ask you for something in return? Actually… two things."

Anzo lets out a short, incredulous laugh, tossing his head back slightly. "You’re joking, right?"

"Just let me say what they are," I plead, not dropping my gaze.

He crosses his arms slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. "Fine. Let’s hear it."

I shift my weight from one foot to the other, feeling stupidly exposed, like any softness in my voice might make me sound weak. But I press on.

"First… I want my harp. The one from the dorm. I used to play it at night, when I was feeling shitty. And now I feel like that all the damn time."

His eyes narrow slightly.

"And second… I want access to the inner garden. Just sometimes. The air in my room is thick, moldy almost. I can’t breathe in there. This whole fortress reeks."

Anzo tilts his head, face unreadable. For a few seconds he doesn’t say anything, just watches me, his black eyes flicking briefly to my mouth, then back to my eyes.

Neither request is outrageous. He knows it.

"I might agree to that," he says slowly, tapping a finger against his bicep. "But only if you play for my guests in a week. There’s a banquet, here in the central garden."

I blink at him. "You wantmeto perform for your guests?"

He smiles, that cold, slick smile that never quite touches his eyes.

"I’ll get you something nice to wear. A Greek-style outfit. You’ll look like a golden-haired Apollo strumming his harp. Very aesthetic. My guests will love it."

I stare at him, jaw clenched. "And then they’ll all want to fuck me?"

Anzo snorts. "Please. It’s not an orgy or a gangbang in some underground BDSM club. It’s a business gathering. You’ll survive."

I exhale through my nose, my arms still stiff at my sides.

"Fine. I’ll play."

He gives a single approving nod, just as footsteps echo in the hallway beyond the door. Must be Matteo.

"How do you even summon him like that?" I ask, narrowing my eyes. "He always shows up exactly when you want him to."

Anzo quirks an eyebrow, then, almost smugly, he raises a finger from his mechanical hand and taps it lightly against his temple, where a small metal plate gleams against his skin.

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