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“Where are you taking me?” I ask Damon as he leads me down ancient marble stairs. When he said we were visiting the Everette hotel, this was not what I expected. I run my finger along the cold stone wall, marveling at the intricate details carved in. My ankle rolls on the uneven step, and I stumble forward with a sharp cry, and Damon catches me easily.
“Are you okay?” He immediately scoops me into his arms, making the rest of the descent.
I rotate my ankle, and there’s no lingering pain. “Yeah, I’m fine.” When he doesn’t put me down, I add, “I’ve had worse.”
If I expected that to help the situation, I was extremely wrong. Damon’s brows lower, pinching together in the middle and making a thin line between them. “Not funny.”
“Oh, come on. It’s a little funny.” I reach up and run my thumb over the line until it smooths out.
Whatever I was going to say next is cut off when my gaze adjusts to the low light and focuses on the room around us. I twist to look at Damon and lower my voice to a whisper. “This is the Vaults?”
“I thought you’d be curious.”
“I mean, I’m insanely curious.” Who wouldn’t be. My husband is supposedly the head of some super top secret, billionaire-only cult thing, and there are no women allowed.
As he moves through the space, his footsteps echo off the walls of cold marble. The room seems to stretch on forever, disappearing into the shadows and making it impossible to gauge how big it is. Every surface is impeccably clean, without even a speck of dust or a hint of musty air. It’s clear that despite its age, this place has been meticulously maintained. There’s a design laid into the floor that looks like a stonework runner that leads all the way up to a raised platform with giant thrones.
“So this is where you meet and stuff?” I ask, eyes still dancing from one thing to another.
His low chuckle rumbles against my side. “And stuff. You’re not impressed by this at all, are you?”
“I mean…it’s a bunch of guys wearing masks doing ceremonies and stuff. I’m pretty sure you don’t allow women because they’d call it lame.” My words break off in a laugh as his fingers tickle my sides.
“You’re going to pay for that.” He sets me on the throne and moves to the side so I can get a better look at the room.
There’s an underlying thrum of power that courses through me just sitting here that undermines my last comment. The weight of centuries lives here, and it’s so palpable I can almost touch it. What does it feel like to sit here when it’s full of men in silver masks, all bowing to him?
I look at Damon, who’s watching me, and I’m suddenly intimidated by the whole thing. He’s always been this rich, influential guy, but this is so much more. And who am I?
“Don’t do that.” Damon cuts through my rambling thoughts, crouching down to place a kiss on my temple.
“Do what?”
“Overthink this.”
I huff out a laugh. “How am I not supposed to overthink this? You command a freaking secret society, and I make dresses and plan press conferences. We are not the same.”
Damon moves around me, dropping between my thighs.
“I may be their Lord, but you are my queen.” He bows and places a kiss along the exposed skin just below my skirt. “Whatever power I have is yours to wield. Ask for anything, and I will give it to you.”
An inkling flies in and out of my mind, and I bite my cheek, too nervous to say it.
“Out with it,” he murmurs, his tongue hot on my thigh.
My heart beats like a drum, and I swallow before saying, “I’ve always wanted you to beg on your knees.”
He lets out a low, satisfied growl and nips my leg before looking up through his lashes. “I’ll happily beg for you.” His hands encircle the tops of my thighs. “Please, Misty.”
A shiver rolls down my spine, and my stomach grows taut. “Please what?”
“Please let me taste you.” He runs his tongue along my skin below my skirt, leaving no room for confusion.
“What, here?” I squeak, trying to get up, but he holds me in place.
“I can think of no better place to bow to you than on your throne,” he says as he slips my underwear down, leaving me bare.
Heat floods my core at his words, and my skin flushes, my apprehension burning away. I give it one last protest. “What if someone comes in?”
