Page 50 of Pas de Trois
“Where do you think you’re going?” she asks as I rush for the door.
I press down on the handle, but nothing clicks. It doesn’t open. There’s a keypad above it.
Fuck, I’m locked in.
I spin around just as she appears in front of me and I slam my back to the door. She comes in close, too close…way too fucking close.
“You seem uncomfortable, Ezra,” she prods.
“I’m more than fucking uncomfortable. Knock it the fuck off.”
She lets out a heavy sigh. “I don’t want to do this the hard way, but I will.”
I don’t know if she’s trying to sound threatening, but I’m not threatened by her. She makes me feel uneasy, not threatened. But then she turns and walks away, going to retrieve the box that fell from my lap when I got up, and she brings it over to me.
“Put this on,” she says, lifting the lid of the box.
I laugh. It’s a black leather collar, just like Luca’s. “Fuck no.”
“I didn’t give you a choice. Put it on.”
“Fucking no.” She’s really pissing me off now.
She picks up the collar, sets the empty box onto the dresser beside me, and boldly crushes her body against mine. I draw back, but there’s nowhere for me to go. So, I do what I have to. I grab her by both shoulders and physically shove her back, pushing and walking her until her legs hit the bed and she sits to avoid falling.
I step backward, pointing a finger at her. “Stay the fuck away from me.”
She just smiles from where she sits, placing a palm on the mattress and leaning on it with a suggestive tilt. “I’m surprised at you. You’re being very forward with me considering how submissive you were with Nikolai.”
I take another backward step. “I was submissive because I had to be, for Anya’s sake.”
She pushes to stand and I turn again, jiggling the door handle uselessly. I feel her presence behind me before her hand lands on my shoulder, gentle fingers dragging down my arm. I jolt from her touch and the warning prickle that creeps over my skin.
“And you still have to be submissive, for Anya’s sake.” She hugs me from behind and it’s fucking weird. She kisses between my shoulder blades and my shoulders shrug against what feels like an attack. “I hardly gave her a second thought when she was nothing but a slave. But since she killed my brother…” She pauses and I feel both her hands on my back, her cheek pressed there, freezing me in place. “Since she killed him, I’ve spent every waking moment imagining her blood on my hands. Consider your submission a way to quench my bloodlust for her. I’ll take yours as her penance. I would enjoy slicing her open and playing with her insides. But perhaps your service to me will fulfill that need. Do you understand me?”
Fuck.
Shit fucking cock-sucking motherfucker.
There aren’t enough curse words in existence to express my fury as my pulse hums and my insides heat to boiling. My fists ache from clenching and I punch one against the door, the sound and force of it slamming against the hard wood startles her enough that she backs up.
My forehead drops against the door as I will my quickening breaths to slow. I’m a raging bull and she’s a matador who taunts me, dangling Anya’s safety in front of me like a red cape—I’ll keep charging for it as long as she teases me with it. I may be stronger—brute and determined—but she holds the real power in this bullfight.
My mind winds through loops in my fury that tug on the intensity of my anger, allowing me enough rationality to submit for Anya’s safety. My shoulders slump and I force myself to give up the fight because I understand her threat crystal fucking clear. I would do anything to protect Anya, even if that means giving Renata goddamn Vittori my submission.
I turn around to find her holding out the collar she wants me to wear. I’m still wearing the white button-down I had on when we met with the families back at Mikhailov Manor, though I removed the jacket and necktie and left them in the basement. The top two buttons of my shirt are already open, leaving her enough room to place the collar on my bare skin. I turn when she moves to my side and dip down to let her latch it in place at the back of my neck. I let her do it without fighting because I have no choice.
Renata is dangerous in the worst kind of way. She’s the kind of dangerous you don’t feel threatened by until you’re fucking dead on the floor.
Once the collar is securely latched, she moves in front of me again. She reaches out and begins to unbutton my shirt with nimble fingers. I push her hands away, but she just starts again.
“You belong to me now. If you behave, I’ll ensure you enjoy being mine.”
Mine?
Fuck no.
She’s not allowed to call me hers. No one is—no one except Anya. The word triggers a new adrenaline rush that I can’t ignore. I step forward, crowding Renata, forcing her backward.
