I'll MAKE YOU DESPERATE FOR ME

CHAPTER SEVEN

"I'll make you desperate," he continues, his voice dark velvet wrapped around steel. "Make you plead. Make you offer me anything, everything, just for the relief of my touch. And maybe then, if you beg prettily enough, I'll consider it."

Tears leak from the corners of my eyes. Not from pain. From the overwhelming intensity of sensation and emotion warring inside me.

Pleasure. Humiliation. Anger. Desire. Hate.

All of it tangled together until I can't separate one from the other.

Then his words turn even colder.

"To me, you're nothing but collateral," he says flatly, and the cruelty in his voice is like a bucket of ice water. "Don't forget what you are. Don't forget why you're here."

The vibrations suddenly stop.

The absence is almost as shocking as the presence was. My body sags against him, trembling and unsatisfied, hovering on an edge I can't quite reach.

He releases me and steps back. The loss of his heat, his presence, leaves me feeling empty in a way I don't want to examine.

I grip the sink to keep from collapsing.

"The auction is about to start," he says, his voice returning to that cool, businesslike tone. Like the last few minutes didn't happen. Like he didn't just take me apart piece by piece. "Make sure you're on your best behavior."

He adjusts his suit jacket with calm precision.

"Or I won't hesitate to sell you off," he adds casually. "There were several interested buyers at the warehouse. I'm sure one of them would be happy to purchase what I've decided isn't worth keeping."

The words land like physical blows.

Collateral. Not worth keeping. Sell you off.

He walks toward the door, leaving me trembling and destroyed against the sink.

His hand is on the handle when he pauses and looks back at me.

"Fix your makeup," he says. "You look like you've been crying. I won't have my fiancée appearing weak in front of these people."

Then he's gone.

The door closes with a soft click that sounds deafening in the silence.

I stare at my reflection in the mirror.

My face is flushed. My eyes are red-rimmed and glassy. My lipstick is smudged. My hair is disheveled. I look exactly like what I am, someone who's been thoroughly worked over and left wanting.

My hands shake as I grip the edge of the sink.

My body is still thrumming with unsatisfied need. That ache between my legs hasn't gone away.

If anything, it's worse now, a constant reminder of what he did to me. What he can do to me whenever he wants.

I hate him.

The thought repeats like a mantra in my head.

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

But my body clearly didn't get the message. Because I'm wet. Soaked, probably. Just like he said.

And some sick, twisted part of me wishes he'd stayed. Wishes he'd touched me more. Wishes he'd actually followed through instead of leaving me like this.

What is wrong with me?

I splash cold water on my face, trying to pull myself together. Trying to erase the evidence of what just happened.

But I can still feel his hands on my skin. Can still hear his voice in my ear making those dark promises.

To me, you're nothing but collateral.

The words echo in my head as I fix my makeup with shaking hands. As I smooth down my dress and try to make myself presentable again.

He humiliated me at dinner. Exposed me. Degraded me.

Then came in here and made me fall apart with clinical precision.

And the worst part, the absolute worst part, is that some pathetic piece of me is already craving more.

Hating him and wanting him in equal measure.

I look at my reflection one more time.

My eyes are no longer glowing. My wolf has retreated back into whatever cage she lives in. I look human again. Normal.

But I don't feel normal.

I feel owned.

And I hate that I don't hate it as much as I should.

With one final deep breath, I unlock the bathroom door and step back into the hallway.

Back to the auction where I'll sit beside the man who just destroyed me and pretend to be his happy fiancée.

Back to playing whatever sick game this is.

Because what choice do I have?

He owns me. He made that perfectly clear.

And the most terrifying part is that my body is starting to agree with him.