Page 38 of Devil’s Reign

This drawer is different—actually filled with interesting things. My eyes bulge as I take in the contents: a black handgun, neatly folded leather handcuffs, platinum cufflinks, a box of condoms, a small folded note, and an old photograph of a severe-looking man I don’t recognize. I frown, studying the photo. Whoever he is, he must be important. Why else would Vanya keep him in his nightstand? I search the man’s features for any resemblance to Vanya but find none. So not a relative… right? I put the photo back and pick up the box of condoms, scoffing as a ball of fire opens in my belly. But the box is unopened. Sealed. Which means he hasn’t used them. It shouldn’t make me feel better, but it does. Damn it.

Next, my attention shifts to the leather handcuffs, and I’m under no delusions about what they’re for. Is Vanya into bondage? The memory of him pressing his body against mine while cuffing me in his office at Zvezda flashes through my mind—God, that was so hot.

A flutter stirs in my belly as I trace my fingers lightly over the smooth leather before lifting them. What would it feel like to have Vanya lock these around my wrists? To be completely at his mercy? I’m so engrossed in my snooping and the illicit thoughts swirling through my mind that I don’t hear the distant sound of the suite’s entrance door opening. Or the footsteps approaching. It’s only when the bedroom door swings open directly behind me that I snap to attention. Heart launching into my throat, I whirl around to find Vanya standing in the doorway with a raised brow.

“Lost something?” he asks, blue eyes assessing my position—on my knees beside his bed.

Shit. I slam the nightstand drawer shut and scramble to my feet. Play it cool, I tell myself, but it's easier said than done—not with my palms slick and my whole body wired tight. Damn this man. I don’t know what it is about his presence that makes my body react so viscerally. But it seems to happen every single time.

“Yes. My sanity,” I say flippantly, answering his question, though I swear he can see straight through me. It doesn’t help that his eyes are so knowing. “But I don’t think it’s here. Seen it around?”

“Not once,” he nearly smirks. Then his second brow arches to join the first, and he nods towards my hands. “But what’s that you’ve got there?”

I gape at the leather handcuffs still clutched in my grip. Damn it. “N–nothing.” I spin back to the nightstand and drop them inside like they’re burning my fingers. Vanya closes the bedroom door, and the unmistakable sound of the lock engaging echoes through the room.

My heart slams against my ribs as I turn back to face him. He’s walking towards me with a predatory glint in his eyes. “W–what are you doing?”

“I’d have thought the first thing you’d do with a measure of freedom would be an escape attempt. But instead, you’re snooping through my things?” He clicks his tongue, but his face remains unreadable, so I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“I–I–” Excuses tangle uselessly on my tongue, the rush of blood roaring through my ears drowning out all coherent thought as he approaches me. But then, at the last second, he turns to the armchair across the room and slowly lowers himself into it, spreading his thighs in a display of casual dominance that makes my mouth go dry.

“Don’t stop on my account.” He waves a hand. “Go on. Continue your little investigation.”

21

MELANI

“W–what?” I stammer, sure I heard him wrong. He wants me to continue snooping through his things? In his presence.

“You’re going to pick up every single item in that drawer, and you’re going to tell me what you think it’s for.” His voice leaves no room for refusal, and I realize what this is.

Punishment.

My stomach drops. But the fear is quickly joined by another, more unexpected response. Arousal. I can’t help but glance between him and the nightstand drawer, remembering what’s inside—the leather cuffs, the box of condoms.

He wants me to pick them out and explain their purpose to him while he watches? My skin heats, my hardened nipples grazing the insides of my bra as my imagination runs wild.

“I’m not interested in this game,” I tell him, my voice nothing more than a raspy whisper.

“Liar.” He leans back in his seat, tilting his head to look at me. Really look at me. “Your face is flushed, and I’ll bet your panties are already soaked.” His smirk is knowing. Infuriating. Absolutely right. “At any rate, you’re not leaving this room until you do as you’re told.”

I gulp and slowly turn to the drawer, heart drumming loudly in my ears. With trembling fingers, I pick up the gun first. He tilts his head, watching with open amusement as he waits for me to speak.

“This is a gun. Probably used to hurt people,” I say dryly.

"It’s unloaded right now," he replies, almost conversationally. "Want me to load it so you can feel the weight?"

"Yes, and maybe I’ll blow your head off while we’re at it. Just to see how it feels," I say under my breath, but he hears and chuckles.

“What’s the next item?”

I return the gun to the drawer and hesitate briefly before picking up the leather cuffs. “For restraining someone,” I whisper.

“What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.” His eyes collide with mine, scorching hot, and my clit pulses between my legs. “Say it like you mean it,” he growls.

I lick my lips, my eyes going heavy-lidded as arousal thickens my voice. “These are leather cuffs. You use them to restrain people.”

“Would you like to be restrained?” His rumbled words spread like wildfire through my body. At this point, my skin is buzzing with need. I want him to get off that chair and come touch me.