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Of all the startled looks Vivienne has given me, this has to be the most horrified of all.
“Look me in the eye and tell me they don’t deserve it,” I demand.
“They don’t deserve to have their child stolen from them, and Barlow doesn’t deserve to be ripped away from his family and used as a pawn.”
I hunt Vivienne’s expression for any sign that she doesn’t believe what she’s saying, but she means every word. God fucking dammit. I won’t accept that. “Admit you’re enjoying that they’re finally being punished for what they’ve done to you.”
Vivienne looks at me like I’m crazy. “I don’t feel any such thing! All I’ve felt since I wound up in your labyrinth is stomach-churning anxiety.”
“You liked what I did to those men who humiliated my sister. Your father and stepmother deserve far fucking worse.”
“Only according to you.” She gazes at me in silence for a moment. “You killed your father, didn’t you?”
I feel a jolt of surprise at her sudden question, and then I laugh softly. I haven’t thought about that cherished memory in years. “I made that man cry for his mother, and she’d been dead for twenty years. How do you know about that?”
“I heard a rumor. Why did you do it?”
Vivienne is trembling before me in her underwear. She looks so vulnerable, and I’m feeling so turned on all of a sudden. It must be all this talk of violence.
I take her jaw in my hand and smile, my lips close to hers. “I don’t like it when people abandon me, angel. It makes me crazy.”
“A lot of things seem to make you crazy.”
Her nipples are standing out in little points through the white lace, and her arms are protectively wrapped around her ribs. I’m no stranger to violence, and I’ve heard of self-harm, but I’ve never seen it for myself. In my experience, people go to extraordinary lengths not to bleed and feel pain.
Vivienne notices me gazing at her scars. “I’ve never shown anyone before,” she whispers. “How…how does it look?”
“Move your arms.”
She drops them, and I take a good, long look at her. I stroke my forefinger over her collarbone and down over her chest. I tweak one of her nipples through her lace bra, and she makes a gasping sound that goes straight to my dick. This girl would look stunning trapped beneath me as I fucked her into my mattress. I want her innocent wetness all over my fingers. Coating my dick.
“Tyrant, please,” she whimpers. “Just tell me how it looks.”
Her scars? I don’t know. I’m too transfixed by the sight of her.
“You’re really fucking sexy,” I say huskily.
Vivienne’s face transforms in disgust. “Don’t patronize me. Don’tlieto me.” She shoves my chest with both hands, and I let her do it because this girl has only ever directed violence at herself. She should inflict it all on me because I can take it.
When she’s done pushing me, I step toward her once more and take her in my arms. “I’m not lying.”
“You told me I’m not sexy just ten minutes ago,” she says, as I plant kisses along her collarbone and up to her throat.
“I said you wouldn’t be sexy in that coral dress, not that you’re not sexy at all. Your body looks incredible in…softer things. You’re like a fairy.” I run my finger under the lace strap of her bra. “An angel. You’re beautiful, and I’m not lying to you. The fact that no one’s seen these scars but me?” I hum my appreciation against her throat. “That makes me want to be all your firsts.”
“You’re so full of shit,” she tells me. “You’ll say anything to win. I’m not forgetting about Barlow.”
This is about so much more than Barlow. She shouldn’t be thinking about Barlow right now. She should only be thinking about me.
I grip her throat and squeeze, and her eyes go wide. Lovingly against her lips, I murmur, “I could hurt you, angel. I could make you bleed with one hard, deep thrust.”
This time, Vivienne doesn’t try to grab my wrist and pull my hand away. Her green eyes are filled with fear and longing, which is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I smile and flick her lips with my tongue. “What a good girl you are.” I lift my hand to her ribs, but she cries out in horror and shrinks away from me.
“Don’t touch my scars. I can’t bear it if you touch them.”
“But I want to feel you.”
