Page 21 of Their Lethal Pet
Which makes me OfferingNine.
I attempt to move, only to be yanked back by the Viscount’s hold on my arm.
“Viscount O’Michaels,”the Duke hisses.
But the man beside me isn’t listening, his bruising grip only tightens, eliciting a wince from deep within me.That’s going to leave a mark, I think dizzily, confused and taken aback by the vehemence emanating from him.
“This is not over,” the Viscount growls against my ear.
I’m not sure if the words are for me or for the Duke, but I suspect it’s the former.
As though to confirm that suspicion, he gives my bicep a final squeeze and releases me with a shove. I bite back a yelp as I stumble toward the waiting Protector and the other Offerings, my legs tangling in my hideous bridal gown.
Bartholomew catches me before I can fall, his grasp gentler than I would have expected from such a large man. Up close, I can tell he definitely worked on the farms in our village, probably wrangling cattle or handling heavy machinery.
He doesn’t look at me, just helps me stay upright before letting me go.
By the time I gather my bearings enough to face the Viscount, he’s gone.
And instead I come face-to-face with a simmering Duke.
“Clean her up and run her labs,” he demands. “We only have a week.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the Protector replies dutifully, heading toward a door with a clipped “Follow me” over his broad shoulder.
“Oh, and, Jeffries?” the Duke calls after him. “Bruises are an imperfection. Make sure she’s taken care of properly.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” the Protector says, inclining his head. “She’ll be the perfect Monster Bride.”
“I know,” the Duke says, his gaze meeting mine. “Our best one yet.”
CHAPTER FIVE
ORCUS
Don’t do it,I tell myself.She’s just a girl. She means nothing. Just an Offering.
There are more important things at stake here. Tasks that need to be handled. Other items to focus on.
And yet…
I can’t shake the vision of that dark-haired beauty from my head. Those stunning near-black eyes are engraved in my memory.
Fuck.
I close my eyes, determined to forget her. But that only makes this craving worse. It’s like she’s haunting me, her features so Goddess-like that I’m questioning my own sanity.
She’s a human. Not an Omega.
Maybe it was her petite frame that has my knot pulsing with this foreign need. That too-pale skin—an alarming contrast to the sun illuminating her alluring form.
I rub my temple, wishing I could somehow erase the female from my mind. But it’s impossible. She’s been lingering in my thoughts all fucking week. Showcasing inmy dreams. Dancing around in my mind during my waking hours.
It’s an obsession.
Acurse.
I wince, my fingers curling into fists.
