Page 59 of The Duke’s Unwilling Bride

“I’m not yours. How can you say that? Since that night-” He cuts me off by wrapping his impossibly large hand around my throat.

“It doesn’t matter that I haven’t taken you. You’re still mine. I was riding out this little tantrum of yours, planning on taking you during your heat when you could no longer hold out. But know this. Whether or not I touch your body, I fucking own it.”

“Paid for it, you mean.” Bitterness laces my tone as I look away, unable to continue keeping him in my eyesight.

“That too.” He tightens his grip incrementally until I’m no longer able to draw air.

My insides squirm as panic races through my veins. I struggle in the only way I can, by kicking out. But even when I connect with his hard thighs, it’s as if my blows are nothing to him. With his hand still firm around my throat, he tosses the bundle of leather over onto a bench so similar to the one he has in his secret dungeon.

Nothing.

Inconsequential.

Small.

Hopeless.

These words pass through my mind as it starts to fuzz around the edges. But on the cusp of that is some unfathomable sensation. It’s as if I’m floating through water where nothing can get me. In time, my fear transforms into a hot, languid sea where all my worries and cares just drift away.

Arousal gathers at the juncture of my thighs and trickles down the insides of my legs, but I’m unable to care. All I can think about are the feelings the duke pulls out of me. It’s almost as calming as when I hold my father’s pipe close to my heart in private. In fact, I can almost smell the scent of tobacco, just hovering on the edge of my sanity.

My vision blurs for a moment, and all my instincts cry out that the end is near. And at this point, I welcome it like an old friend. There is no unease here, no terror. Just a wave of lethargy that wraps me up like a cocoon. My eyelids flutter for a moment as I open my soul to the heavens.

And that’s when Foxford releases me. Everything comes crashing back down around me, reminding me I’m still very much alive and in the duke’s grasp. His heat sends a pulse racing under my skin. The sharp, woodsy scent that follows him around floods my senses, making me dizzy for just a moment.

Blinking, I look up, arrested by his pointed gaze. My body wants him. It craves him, needs the warmth of his body to surround me, envelop me. But I can’t give in to these errant thoughts. Sorrow lances through my heart, but not for the fact of being alive, but once again being at the mercy of someone who seems to care so little for me.

“I own everything about you, little omega. Even down to the air you breathe. Never forget that.”

“I’m sure you won’t let me,” I manage to rasp out as I take in gulps of air.

“No, I suppose I won’t.” Leaving me on the cross, he walks back over to the door and opens it, once more talking to the man outside.

He pulls his body back in and turns to flash me a deviant smile before making a grand show of locking the door. He palms the key for a moment before reaching up impossibly high to hang it on a hook—a hook I have no chance of ever reaching.

“You are never escaping this room until I’m done with you. Just like any paying client of The Rose and Thorne, I have full access to you until the time is up. Lucky for me, the Madame has allowed me all the time I need. Which means you have more than enough time to show me just how sorry you are for your actions.”

All feelings of tranquility and arousal evaporate. “And what about you? You have nothing to say sorry for? This will not be all on my shoulders.”

He crosses his arms, his lips twitching down into a frown. “What is it that you accuse me of? Come. It’s high time we have these discussions, since you seem to either avoid me or lie at every turn.”

“You really cannot fathom what it is I take umbrage with? You’ve treated me like a villain in your home. Everything that’s come out of your mouth has been nothing but scathing retorts or harsh scoldings. I never wanted any of this, and yet you treat me as if I trapped you on purpose.”

“Didn’t you though?” he bellows out, eating up the distance between us with large strides. Slamming his forearm against the wood above me, he leans in, his face hovering over mine. “You still deny you had any hand in this?”

“Why would I want to marry a brute like you?” If my words wound him, he makes no show of it. Instead, he widens his lips, baring his teeth in a predatory smile.

“How else would you pay off your massive debts? Answer me that, and I might allow you a bit of pleasure once tonight is through.”

Puzzled, I pull back from him, searching his expression to see if he’s playing a farce. “You mean my father’s debts?”

Foxford frowns and pulls away. “No. Yours. The dresses, the hats, the quills, the fripperies and fineries. The items you refused to stop buying even as your cousin bled himself dry to cover them. He borrowed money from others just to keep up with your habit.”

My blood runs cold as his words swirl through my mind. None of what he’s saying makes any sense. Yes, I’ve bought some sheets of paper and pencils, but surely that can’t amass a great debt. Father never even batted an eye…

“What dresses do you speak of? All I brought into this marriage are the ones you bought for me. All my others were sold.”

“Yes. To pay for your debts.”