Page 49 of Pas de Trois
Chapter 11
Ezra
Renata’s bedroom is like a luxury hotel suite. It’s smaller than I expected it would be, but certainly not lacking in extravagance. The room is all shades of gold, ivory, and cream, and I wonder how the fuck she keeps it all so clean looking.
Probably slaves.
Maybe me.
She gestures toward an armchair in the far corner of the room, angled toward the end of her sleek, modern-looking bed. “Sit.”
I cautiously cross the space, turning and walking backward because I don’t trust her behind me. She moves to her cream-colored dresser beside the door, and I watch her carefully as she pulls something out of the top drawer. I fight the warning tension in my muscles and slowly sit on the chair. I’ve learned the importance of obedience in this life, but I don’t think I’ll ever stop having the immediate urge for defiance. I’m wary while waiting to find out which particular brand of demon spawn Renata will prove to be.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a second slave,” she says, working on something in front of her, though her back is turned to me and I can’t see what. “Luca has been with me for four years, since he turned twenty-one.” Her head turns to look at me and her dark brown eyes catch mine. “He wasn’t taken, you know. He’s a willing slave.”
I scoff, “Yeah, right.”
I see half of her smile from her profile before she turns away again. “Is that so hard to believe? Luca enjoys being my slave. It’s a lifestyle choice for him. There are places to find people like Luca. We met at an establishment that caters to the wealthy and their very particular wants and needs. He wanted to find a master and I wanted a willing slave. Immediately, Luca and I knew we’d make a good match…instant chemistry.” She gives me a knowing look. “He asked to be mine and I brought him home. I provide well for him, and I could do the same for you, Ezra. He’s happy here.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Believe what you like. It’s the truth.” She turns, crossing the room to stand in front of me with a square box in her hands. “I’m going to keep close tabs on you. I don’t trust you in Anya’s presence.”
“I don’t trust you in anyone’s presence.”
“I expect you to cooperate during your training. Luca has been given permission to provide you with guidance on serving me.”
“Serving you?”
She drops the box in my lap and bends over me, grasping my chin tightly between her fingers and forcing me to look up at her. The red silk blouse she wears drapes open as she bends, leaving nothing to the imagination, and she doesn’t seem to care.
“You will serve me or you will die. If that’s not incentive enough for you, then I will remind you of all the ways I could make Anya’s life end without drawing suspicion from anyone in the four families. And I will do just that if you deny me.”
“What do you want from me? What do you need me for if you already have Luca? I thought I was here to service your bloodlust.”
“Blood taken requires blood given, yes. Don’t be mistaken, I will take from you, drops at a time.” She releases my chin and turns, moving to sit on the edge of the bed across from me. She exhales slowly and captures me with her stare. “I find the fire behind your eyes alluring.”
Okay.
Really, how do I respond to something like that?
She goes on as if she’s having a casual conversation with a friend. “I was a married woman not so long ago. Giovanni was the perfect husband for a woman like me. He was strong, capable, dominant.” A half-smile twists her lips. “He was dominant enough to handle me, if you can imagine. I was in love with him. Giovanni was my everything. We’d been seeing each other for years before we married, but I only spent a few days as his wife.” She pauses and I sense she only does it for dramatic effect. “He was murdered…gone before I even had a chance to legally change my name. It’s been two years since his death and I still grieve him daily.” Her expression melts into vengeful honesty. “Trust me when I tell you that I understand pain. I know how to use the woman you love to hurt you, and I will if you deny me what I need.”
I swallow the raw truth I hear in her tone. “So, what do you what from me?”
She stands and moves slowly toward me. She pauses in front of me for a moment before she bends, placing her palms on my knees. I jerk backward, though my ass stays firmly planted in the seat. She pushes my knees apart, creating a V with my legs and she lowers until she’s kneeling between them. I’m frozen in place, every muscle in my body hard and tense.
She tilts her head, giving me eye contact that I’d call uncomfortable at best. “Giovanni had eyes like yours…like a fire that refuses to stop burning. I miss that fire, that fervor, that all-consuming, reckless passion...the kind of passion you have for that awful girl.” I clench my fists and pray I can keep myself from pounding them against her face. “Giovanni would share me with Luca, you know. We would play together. We’d command him and enjoy each other. It would be nice to have that again.”
Ah, fuck.
Fucking heathens.
She grips my thighs and slowly slides her hands upward. I grab her wrists and forcefully remove them. “No,” I say firmly.
“Yes.” She yanks her arms from my grip and slaps her hands right back down on my thighs, digging her fingertips into my muscles.
I try to scoot back, but I’m already as far back as I can go. “Stop,” I insist. Her fast fingers tug my shirt free from where it’s still half tucked into my pants, and they quickly disappear beneath the hem. “Whoa. Fuck. Stop it.” She starts undoing the button of my black slacks and I push through the armrests to stand. She leans back when I rise and sidestep free.
