Page 80 of Cursed
“Call me tomorrow, okay?” Jolene lingers in the doorway. “Promise me.”
Sadie nods. “First thing in the morning. I promise.”
Like fuck she will.
She’s clueless. I built walls so nothing could touch what’s mine. She let a stranger past them. Part of me wants to make her pay; another, louder part wants to pull her close and never let anyone else in. I don’t know which I’ll choose yet.
I maintain my position, silent and still, watching as Sadie closes the door behind her friend. When the lock clicks, she keeps her back to me for several seconds, shoulders tense, clearly aware of the storm brewing behind her.
I wait, watching Sadie’s back as she stands frozen at the door, her fingers still curled around the handle. The penthouse is charged with my rage like it’s a living thing prowling between us.
“Turn around.” My voice comes out calm.
She hesitates before slowly facing me. Her eyes meet mine briefly before dropping to the floor.
“You invited someone into my home.” I take one step toward her. “You let a stranger into my space while I was gone.”
“Jolene isn’t a stranger,” Sadie says. “She’s my best friend.”
“Did I give you permission to have visitors?”
She swallows hard. “No, but?—”
“No. That’s the only answer that matters.” I close the distance between us, towering over her. “Everything in this penthouse belongs to me.”
“I’m not your property.” A flash of defiance crosses her face. “The Hunt didn’t make me your slave.”
I grab her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. “The contract you signed says otherwise. You surrendered your right to consent, to privacy, to independence. For one year, you are my butterfly, only mine.” I narrow my eyes. “What did you tell her?” I demand, tightening my grip. “What secrets did you share about us?”
Her pulse flutters beneath my fingers like a trapped bird. “Nothing. We just talked about work.”
“Liar.” I trace my thumb across her lower lip. “I saw the way she looked at me. She knows.”
Sadie’s breath catches. “Knows what?”
“About this.” I press my thumb against the healing carving beneath her collarbone—my initials marking her as mine. “About what happens when you’re alone with me.”
“She needed to know I was safe,” she whispers.
“Safe?” I laugh. “Is that what you told her? That you’re safe with me?”
I back her against the door, placing my palms flat on either side of her head. Her scent fills my nostrils, making my blood surge.
“What exactly did you share with your friend? Did you tell her how I carved my initials into your skin? How I fucked you while you were unconscious? Or did you tell her how you beg for more when I’m inside you?”
Her breath hitches. “I told her the truth.”
“Which is?”
“That you drugged me. That you marked me without consent.” Her voice trembles. “That you’re dangerous.”
An unfamiliar and unpleasant sensation twists inside me. Not rage, not arousal, but a profound feeling that I don’t want to examine.
“And yet you’re still here.” I trail my fingers down her throat. “You could have left with her. Could have run. But you didn’t.”
“The contract?—”
“Fuck the contract.” I press my body against hers, pinning her completely. “We both know that’s not why you stayed.”
