Page 114 of Silk and Sirens

“It’s been compromised.” There was a stubborn set to her jaw. “I gather congratulations are in order?” she said tightly.

I stared down at her, at the tight purse of her lips and the defiant tilt of her chin. “Selene threatened my father.”

She nodded once, as if she knew it was a possibility. “Is he okay?”

I took one slow step forward, the air between us thickening with violent tension. Like the first snap of lightning seconds before the rain. “His pride’s wounded, but he’ll live.”

Aeris stood straight, shoulders rigid as I crowded her. “Well? Did you accept?”

“You don’t want me to marry her,” I said, a statement rather than a question.

Her brows pulled together, and I ached to smooth my thumb over the line. “You know I don’t.”

“Why?”

Her eyes searched mine for a long, heavy beat before she pushed past me, deeper into the room. “Does it really matter?”

She’d dragged me into one of the club’s private playrooms. A large bed took up most of the space, draped in luxurious silk sheets with coils of soft black rope laid out deliberately at the corners. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors covered every wall, reflecting our bodies back at us from every possible angle.

Then there was the padded bench at the foot of the bed, cuffs for someone’s wrists and ankles as well as an array of toys to play with.

“Answer the question, Aeris.”

“God,” she growled, the word cracking with frustration. “What do you want me to say? That I don’t want you to marry her? That if you go through with it, then everything I’ve risked has been for nothing?”

I took another deliberate step forward, crowding her space. “Is that all?”

Colour flooded her cheeks. “Goddamn it, Caden,” she cried, voice breaking. “What the hell do you want me to say?”

“The truth.” I backed her up until she hit the mirror, and fuck if she didn’t look beautiful in her anger.

“If you marry her, then Selene wins and I’ve lost.”

“Is that the only reason?”

She let out this cute little sound. “What the fuck do you want from me?”

“Everything.”

I moved fast, my hand wrapping around her throat, feeling her pulse hammer wildly against my palm as I leaned in until our faces were inches apart.

“Let me be very fucking clear, Tempest,” I said, dropping my voice. “I want everything. I want you to admit that the thought of me marrying Vivienne makes you sick. That the idea of her hands on me, her mouth on me, makes you fucking feral.”

Her breath hitched, and I wanted to capture the sound.

“I want you jealous,” I continued, tightening my grip just enough to make her gasp. “I want you possessive. I want you so goddamn obsessed with me that the thought of anyone else having me drives you insane.”

I brushed my thumb over her racing pulse, voice dropping to a dark whisper. “Because that’s exactly how I feel about you.”

She glared at me, and I fucking loved it. Loved that there was something sharp and ruined in her that matched this violence inside me.

“This is crazy,” she whispered. “We don’t even like each other.”

I tilted her chin higher, forcing her to meet my eyes as I breathed her in, the faint scent of her perfume. Not floral and sweet, but something hinting at coconuts, salt, and sun-kissed skin.

“What if I say no?” she added.

My free hand slid between her thighs, finding her pussy already slick. She tried to twist away, but my fingers tightened around her throat, pinning her against the mirrored wall as I pushed two thick fingers inside her without warning.