Page 57 of Lucky 14

Oakley Rebel King. Oh yes. I fucking love that.

“What am I doing here?” he asks, defensive.

That is the question, is it not? I let him stew in silence for a bit, watching him squirm.

“I didn’t know what time it was. I got lost.”

I scan his arm for the watch we give all hunters. He’s not wearing it. Now why the hell isn’t he wearing it?

I reach for the bottle, taking another swig, then motion at Oakley to do the same.

“Why did you want to see the game master?” I ask.

Oakley’s gaze flits away.

“You know bribes work wonders in this game, but the game master rarely accepts.”

“I wasn’t…” Oakley looks a bit defensive.

“Why are you here?” I ask.

Oakley’s face shutters, those lids falling over his eyes halfway. He’s so obviously hiding something, it’s painful. He’s terrible at it. Unless this is part of his game?

I need to push him. To see how far he’s willing to go to keep up whatever ruse he has going on. I sit back on the bed. “You know, I won’t tell my boss you were out late if you make it worth my while.”

Oakley takes a second to process that, then the prettiest color pink spreads across his face. His mouth opens, then shuts again. A flash of emotions, all too quick for me to pin down, moves across his face. He freezes, staring at the bed.

He’s thinking about all the ways he could make it worth my while. I am too. Oakley on all fours. Oakley in the shower. Oakley under me with my cum all over his face.

He sits there, frozen. My little mousey, all caught in my trap. Nothing to do but accept defeat.

Something shifts. I’m not sure what it is, but Oakley snaps his gaze up to mine and holds it; his gaze is fiery.

It startles me that…life that’s suddenly in him. I don’t look away. The connection feels electric. It’s like he’s opening his soul, and I can see straight into the depths of his heart. And what I see there is fear but also defiance.

“You can do whatever you want to me, but don’t hurt her.”

I can do whatever I want to him. That statement hits me like a jolt of adrenaline. I want to do whatever I want to him. I want his life fused so far into mine that all I feel is the warmth from his soul. Then slowly, I realize the second part of that sentence.

Her?

I blink. Oakley and I have never talked about a woman before. I heard him wrong.

Oakley doesn’t break my gaze. “She didn’t do anything wrong. She doesn’t deserve to die.”

I blink again. She? What in the hell is he talking about? I stare at him, and that fire in his eyes is still there, but now it’s sad.

I blink a few more times. “Who?”

“Look, don’t kill her. You can do anything…but you can’t kill her.”

He’s definitely talking about a woman. Rage hits my bubble of warmth, threatening to shatter it. I growl, “Who’s her?”

He pauses for so long that I feel that rage starting to take over, starting to turn me into something I’m not. Snatching him up by the throat, I ask again. “Who is her?”

“Holland. Fourteen.”

I stare at him like he’s talking gibberish.