Page 10 of Dark Possession
She doesn’t answer.
That annoys me.
I want a response. A flicker of weakness. A crack in the composure she’s fighting so hard to hold onto. So I make a bold statement, one designed to pull something—anything—out of her.
“You’ll be in my bed every night,” I say, watching her closely, waiting for the reaction I know is coming.
There it is.
Her lips part slightly, and for the first time, I see it—uncertainty. Just for a second. Just a flicker. Then it’s gone, replaced by the same careful mask she’s been wearing since she walked through my door.
“For how long?” she finally speaks.
It’s the same question she asked in the limo, and for some reason, I don’t want to consider the answer just yet. My jaw tightens slightly, though I keep my expression unreadable. “As long as I say.”
“I have other responsibilities,” she says while raising her head slightly like she has some form of control here.
“Yes, you do. Pleasing me is one of your responsibilities. Nothing else matters."
She swallows, just barely, her throat bobbing with the effort. A small betrayal of nerves. It’s not enough; the fire still rages in her gaze.
I want to extinguish it.
I step closer, watching the subtle shift of her body—how she braces, ready to snap or flee, even if she has nowhere to go. “Can I have some of my things brought over, at least? My phone, some clothing, my…sketchbook?”
“I’ve already had my staff purchase clothing for you,” I respond. “As for the rest…maybe.” I reach out and twine a lock of her hair around my finger, watching as her lips thin and tighten.
“You don’t like this,” I murmur.
“I don’t have a choice,” she bites back.
“No, you don’t.” My voice is low, dangerous.
Her breathing hitches.
I reach out, fingers grazing her jaw, then lower, trailing down the delicate column of her throat. Her pulse thrums against my fingertips—fast, erratic.
“Your heart’s racing.” I press my palm to her chest, just above her breast. “Are you nervous, Alina?”
She doesn’t speak. Not a single word. Her silence once again annoys me.
“I paid for you,” I whisper, brushing my mouth against her ear. “But what I want from you tonight,I’ll take.”
Still, she says nothing.
But she doesn't move away.
Not when I shove the thin lingerie she’s still wearing from her shoulders. Not when I grip her hair and pull her head back, baring her throat like prey.
“You want me to stop,devushka?” I growl against her skin. I won’t, of course.
I don’t wait for permission or an answer. My lips smash onto hers, and I kiss her like I own her. Hard. Deep. Bruising.
Her lips part wider, but still no words. No pleas. No permission.
So I give her none in return.
My grip tightens in her hair, jerking her head back, exposing her throat. I drag my mouth across her jaw, down her neck, letting my teeth scrape, bite—enough to leave a mark.
