Iniquitous (The Marked #3)(72)

Quietly, I made my way back upstairs and then tiptoed back down the hallway, the same way I’d come, though this time I stopped in front of the second guest bedroom. I knew Trace was sleeping behind that door—I could feel my body humming just from his presence. My hand came up beside me as though it were seeking to touch him, seeking his refuge, but something held me back from knocking. I couldn’t keep running to him every time I needed to escape Dominic.

He would see it when he touched me, feel it when he kissed me. It wasn’t fair to him. I couldn’t keep pulling him to me with one hand and then crushing his heart with the other.

Lowering my hand, I turned around to go back to my room, though I didn’t make it very far. A cool hand came down over my mouth as my feet lifted off the ground, and suddenly, I was being dragged back into Dominic’s room.

With his hand still over my mouth, he pushed me back against his closed bedroom door and leaned all the way into me, sending my heart into an unrelenting panic.

“Do not scream. Do not move,” he commanded me in the voice that stole my free will.

And I knew I was in trouble.





31. TRUTH BE TOLD


I could feel my heart thwacking hard against my chest as Dominic barricaded me against his bedroom door with his body. The room was pitch black save for a sliver of moonlight coming in from the open bedroom window. I could hear the rain pattering against the world around us, hitting its mark almost as fast as my heart was.

He lowered his hand from my mouth, but his body remained pressed against mine. I wanted to scream at him, to punch him in the balls, but my ability to do anything more than stand there had been compelled away from me.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered, though his eyes were swirling with wickedness.

“Then why are you compelling me not to move?”

“Because I can,” he answered simply.

I glared at him. “Thanks. That really eased my worries.”

“I didn’t say you shouldn’t be worried, angel. Only that I wouldn’t hurt you.” A sinful smile curved across his smooth face. “Do you know how easily I could make you mine? How few words it would take to make you forget he exists?”

My pulse quickened. “You wouldn’t.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he picked up a strand of my hair and twirled it around his finger. “How long has it been since we’ve been alone like this?”

“Not long enough.” I felt him press harder against me and I gasped.

“Answer my questions truthfully,” he said in his special will-stealing voice.

“Twenty-seven hours.” The words tumbled through my lips with shame. I’d been counting the hours.

He smiled, pleased by my telling answer. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No. What is this, twenty-one questions?”

“Do you want it to be?” A sinister look passed through his eyes.

“No.” I couldn’t stop answering his questions and I detested him for it. “You’re going to be sorry for this tomorrow.”

He smiled again. “I don’t think that I will, angel.”

My heart pounded wildly in my chest as my blood roared through my veins at a dangerous pace. And he knew it too. He knew my body was panicking—he could see it, taste it, hear it—and he was reveling in it.

“Intoxicating.” He closed his eyes for a brief moment as if to breath in the fumes before meeting my terrified gaze again. Craning his head to the side, he caressed my cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Have you missed this?”

“Yes,” I answered speedily and then inwardly kicked myself in the gut. I couldn’t stop myself from telling the truth—my tongue was literally barred from spewing lies. “Dominic, please take away the compulsion. You don’t have to do this.”

“Don’t I?”

“No,” I said, though I wasn’t even sure why he was doing this. “This isn’t you.”

“Regrettably, you appear to be hell-bent on denying yourself any and all pleasure from me, which consequently means that I too am denied.” His eyes blackened into two onyx stones. “And believe me, angel, I am not in the business of denying myself anything, most of all, pleasure.”

“Then don’t.” I swallowed the tangled knot in my throat. “Go out and find yourself all the pleasure you can stand. Just leave me out of it!”

“Is that what you really want?”

“No.” I squeezed my eyes shut. Goddamn my stupid mouth.

“What do you insist on lying to yourself?”

“Because I’m good at it and it’s how I cope with things I’m too afraid to face.” I seriously couldn’t stop.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked, suddenly curious.

“Sometimes.”

His eyes narrowed as he tried to decipher my answer. “Elaborate.”

“I’m afraid of the way you make me feel.”

He shifted his body closer. “How do I—”

“Dominic, please! Don’t do this,” I pleaded, but I knew there was no use. He had carte blanche to ask me anything he wanted and lacked the moral fiber needed to deny himself of it.

“How do I make you feel?” he asked, speaking softly against my lips.