“Step by step,” he says.
When dessert is served, Dru nervously hands out slices of chocolate cake, her hands shaking slightly as she places a plate in front of me. I reach for my fork, but before I can even take a bite, a dollop of frosting sticks to my finger. I move to wipe it off, but Ben grabs my wrist and sucks my finger clean.
I don’t know how long I sit there with my finger in his mouth, but across the table, Josh’s eyes dart between us, wide and twitchy.
“I hear anybody above fifty percent can’t, uh…” He pushes his finger through a hole made by his thumb and forefinger. “Can’t get it up more than once a year.”
“Okay, I think we’ve overstayed—” I say, rising from my chair, but Ben’s hand lands on my thigh—not rough, but firm enough to let me know what he wants.
I sit back down midsentence, my heart now beating faster than I’d care to admit. I glance at him. At some point during this dinner, gentle Ben lost his temper. Josh has activated some part of him that’s up for a little bullshit.
“I’m not trying to get too personal,” Josh continues, “but the radiocasts say that a true detached alpha wouldn’t display such”—he searches for a word—“private depraved actions in front of anyone. It makes me wonder if your peers are actually right about…you know.”
My pulse quickens, anxiety producing—of all things—a sudden, ridiculous urge tolaugh. It’s like watching a predator size up its prey, except the prey has no idea it’s already halfway down its throat.
“Josh,” Ben begins. His voice is sharp enough to draw blood. “I have a probabilistic interface I like to tinker with from time to time.” He sets his glass down carefully, like this whole thing is beneath him.
“In this probabilistic trajectory you’re on, you will keep testing the boundaries with me—seeing where you can poke, trying to find weaknesses.” Ben leans in, and Josh swallows air in a loud gulp.
“You look at my clothes and decide I’m civilized, but the Burn was notsolong ago, Joshua. You remember your history.” Ben stands to his full height, and it’s a reminder of what he truly is. A conqueror. A war machine.
“The barbarians won. And some of us miss the feel of gristle between our teeth,” Ben says jaw clenched
The room falls silent, save for the tiny gasp Dru lets out.
Finally, Josh says, “I want you out of my house.”
“See, I love this thing,” Ben says. The only way I can describe his tone is cheerful in a very deadly way. “Look at the probability that you would say that.”
He shares a holographic98 percentnext to Josh’s face, which is spewing,I want you out of my house!The words were plain for everyone to see.
It makes everything Ben said before sound like a prophecy.
“Fawl, please.” He takes my wrist. But I’m not going to protest. I know what it means for him to grab me like this. And my heart is in my throat.
The walk to the railcar is quiet. Before we sit down, Ben looks down at me and sighs. “Josh is not an option,” he says.
I nod in agreement and pat his shoulder. We’ll have to face the consequences at the gala and board meeting on our wits alone.
“I’m so proud of you for not eating his heart,” I say.
Ben laughs, despite knowing that this time next week, he will be stripped of everything he’s ever loved.
Chapter23
Illuminance
Ben dresses quickly the next day, and it’s like I’m looking at someone new. His linen pants and loose cotton shirt fall lightly on his frame. His curls are wild and tight, fluttering over his forehead with every step. There’s something…different about him. Lighter. Like he’s shedding skin.
I get dressed too—linen shorts, very short ones. Maybe it crosses my mind that he once mentioned my legs. What was it? Saltine muscle?
A coincidence.
I don’t dress for men. #GirlStandUp.
He moves like he’s experiencing everything for the first time, sighing as he slips on his jacket, pausing to inhale the scent of food wafting up from the kitchen.
He grabs my hand before yanking me down the stairs in a rush, and I can almost picture him as a boy. His eyes stay on mine, playful, pulling me along like we’re kids skipping school.
