Page 7 of The Castle (Endgame 3)
“Throw it away,” I say, making a bold stretch across the board.
I haven’t had any contact with my father since the night of the party, when he claimed my mother was insane, hearing voices. And we proved him wrong. Machinery in the walls. People inside the walls.
It never should have gotten that far. He was her husband. He should have believed her. He should have helped her, so that she wasn’t forced to confront Jonathan Scott alone.
He moves his knight to meet my bishop, unconcerned. “Are you angry at him for selling you?”
And then there’s the contract he made with Gabriel Miller, well before I showed up at the Den, long before I auctioned my virginity to him. “Maybe I’m angry at you for buying me.”
“Should I have let someone else win the auction?”
I lift my chin. “Maybe so. I would have spent my month with him. And then I would have been free.”
“Free,” he murmurs, examining the board as if it contains the answers. “Like this pawn.”
“There are times a pawn can be more valuable than a king.”
He picks up his bishop and gently knocks over my pawn. “Not alone.”
My eyes narrow. “I could be a queen, then.”
“Without me?”
“I could be.”
“I don’t doubt that, little virgin. I don’t doubt that you could captivate any man you set your mind to. You captivated me before you even knew I existed. You’re my queen.”
My breath catches. It’s seductive to believe that might be true. I know better than that. With a sense of reckless longing, I advance my queen out of the safety of the pawns. It’s early in the game to release her. Dangerous. “She can go anywhere.”
“Not safely,” he counters, launching his knight in threat.
I skirt easily out of the way. “Maybe she’s stronger than you think.”
“Or maybe the danger is stronger than you know.” He moves his bishop again. “Check.”
My knight blocks the threat. “So why don’t you tell me more?”
“Because I want to protect you. I want to protect you the way I could never do for the women in my father’s brothel. They were trapped—by money, by power. They were trapped by me, understand?”
“So you try to atone by keeping me safe?”
“Is that wrong, little virgin? I want you in my bed. That’s not a secret.”
“It’s not enough.”
“What, then?” he demands, moving a piece without looking. “What do you require in payment?”
“Everything.” His body. His soul.
Most of all, his heart. If I spelled it out he would claim he didn’t have one.
He sucks in a breath. “You’re asking me to break into pieces. What do you think shards of glass will do to you? You’ll be cut, little virgin. You’ll bleed.”
“Then I want to bleed. That’s the payment I require.”
He stands abruptly, walking toward the edge of the balcony. He rests his hands on the balustrade. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
I move one final piece before following him. “Then show me.”
He whirls. “God, do you think I don’t want to? That I don’t want to hurt you? That I don’t want to see your pretty skin marred with my fingerprints? Smeared with blood?”
There’s something strangely seductive about his threats. It’s the same feeling I get when he checkmates me—feeling cornered, feeling grateful. My wings want to beat against a cage.
“I could make you bleed,” I whisper.
He cocks his head, his eyes molten lava. “Could you?”
I take a step closer, my gaze downcast. It’s better that he underestimates me. The world already does. “I don’t know. I could try.”
His fingers beneath my chin are gentle. He lifts my face to his, meeting my lips in a kiss of wanting and warmth. There’s no violence in his touch, only his heart. His tongue darts out to taste me, the movement thorough with possession. As if emboldened by my flavor he groans, pulling me closer with a hand behind my neck. His embrace crushes my arms against his chest. I can’t move, but I feel the power I have over him. The urgency in his kiss, the hardness against my stomach.
“What will you do to me?” I whisper against his lips.
“The railing. Put your hands on it.”
As suddenly as we came together, we’re standing apart. I sway in the cool night air. It feels like a dream as I move to obey him, but the stone beneath my palms is solid enough.
He doesn’t immediately cover me with his body, not like I thought he would.
“I’m going to lift that silk around your thighs. I’m going to taste how wet you are for me. Are you wet, little virgin? Or will I have to slick you with my tongue?”
My inner muscles clench. “Gabriel.”
“I’ll torture your clit until you come, crying my name, loud enough the men patrolling the boundaries can hear you. I want them to know who you belong to.”
