Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
This is who I am. The world says I must be ruthless to survive and thrive, so ruthless I will be.
It’s time we stop pretending.
“Why did you come to me, Inara?”
“You say you fight for justice, but you’re making a mockery of it. I can’t be complicit. Any more than I already am.”
“You’re not complicit.”
“You have taken over my life. Every aspect. I thought about it. . . going to the lead detectives, telling them everything I know. All the surveillance, all the times we met. Everything you said.”
Rage courses through me at the thought of her offering up those precious, private moments to a bunch of career-hardened, cynical cops.
“I won’t let you do that. It would mean the end of your career.”
She gives a half shrug. “I’d sacrifice anything for justice. Even myself.”
“I won’t allow it,” I vow. I’ll do everything to prevent her from wrecking her own life.
“It wouldn’t matter anyway. Who are they going to believe? A crazy lady who thinks she’s psychic? Or you, a paragon of society, wealthy beyond belief, and a major donor to the force.” Her eyes have dulled, lost the spark she had at the beginning of our fight. I’ve crushed something in her. “Congratulations, Rex. You’ve won.”
The triumph rolling through me at her admission dissipates at her lifeless tone. She grabs her jacket and turns on her heel, heading for the door.
I’m across the room before she can take more than a few steps. She reaches for the door handle, and I slap my hand on the sturdy wood, holding it shut. Now I’m the one breathing hard while her face holds no expression.
“Rex, I’m not going to fight anymore. It’s over.”
“It’s not over.” There’s no winning unless I’ve won her. “You’re not leaving.”
She tugs the door handle. “Let me go.”
“Never.” I pull her back, and she gives me only a token struggle. The beast is pleased, but a more careful part of me wonders if she planned this. Did she come here to sever our relationship? Or is she playing another game?
Either way, this ends the same. I wrap my hand around her throat. Her pulse jumps, proof that she’s not as unaffected by me as she’d like. “You forget, little bird. You don’t have a choice.” I draw her deeper into my office. “You came to me. Remember what I told you?” I seize her hands, pinning them behind her. She sucks in breath but doesn’t fight me. If anything, she leans closer, stilling as I rasp in her ear, “You are mine. It’s time I show you what that means.”
Inara
I feel the smooth bracelets around my wrists before I hear the click. Handcuffs. I know exactly what they feel like. These are different, though, padded with leather to make it easier on my wrists. I test their give and find them no less sturdy than department issued ones.
His hand clamps on the nape of my neck. My nipples harden under the soft jersey of the dress. As quickly as he subdues a victim, he’s got the upper hand. I could fight until my skin chafes and I fall at his feet, but for what? Years of practiced kink work against me. The bondage sends me to a place of calm.
Or maybe I just want to give in to him.
His hand tightens around my arm, keeping me close, keeping me safe. He guides me forward, holding me in case I stumble. I’m lightheaded and easy to maneuver.
It’s as if everything in my life has been leading to this moment. All the pain and trauma have driven me into this man’s arms. He has all the control, and I have none, and I can finally, finally rest.
The corner of his office holds an ancient oil painting of a monstrous figure with black, bat-like wings. He tilts the frame until there’s a click and soft whir, and the bookshelf slides away to reveal a hidden door. Just like in the private room at Empire, he’s rigged this place with all the secret passageways he wants.
The room we enter is dark, but a few paces inside and hidden sensors trigger a cascade of soft lights. I pant like I’ve run up the mansion’s grand flight of stairs.
This place is a cavernous play space lit by wall sconces and glowing chandeliers. Every few feet, there’s a sturdy spanking bench or St. Andrew’s Cross. The rows of whips and floggers on the wall are twenty times what’s available to Rex at the club. There are wardrobe-sized cases and chests of drawers lining the walls, which probably hold more toys or implements of torture.
“Welcome to my dungeon.” His fingers tighten on my strained shoulders, holding me fast. He’s got me now.
And I know there’s no escape.
26
Rex
She leans back as I drag her deeper into the room, but it’s only a token resistance. A part of her is fighting, ready to take flight. The rest of her has already surrendered.