And then what? I would have offered him not just my soul, but my body, too. Not happening.
One thing is certain: either I destroy the Black Joker, or he destroys me.
18
Gaetano
She’s summoning me.
What a rarity!
My name hums through the invisible thread that binds us. I haven’t fully recharged, but curiosity gnaws at me. Has the Baroness decided to beg for a repeat of last night? I had hoped her stubbornness would pose a greater challenge.
The thought of a replay hits me hard, like a punch to the stomach. As if I hadn’t already spent the whole night restless with anticipation! That tempting ass, offered to me like a tribute, is an image that won’t leave my mind. I’ve no doubt her taste will be even more irresistible.
First, though, I plan to teach her that surrendering to me is not a punishment, but a reward.
A frown forms on my brow as I remember our time limit. Today marks the end of the first trial. The riddle I gave her shouldn’t be too difficult for a mind like hers. While rifling through her drawers, I uncovered a collection of academic certificates, a diploma with honors, and a university record filled with top grades.
However, the risk of failure always lingers. It would be a pity to claim her soul before I’ve had the chance to savor the rest.
I carve a portal and step through. I haven’t gathered enough energy to feed the wards around my fortress, but Madeline is unlikely to attack my chambers anyway. Truth be told, the reason I persist in conjuring such defenses is my own obsessive suspicion that she’s watching me. Sheprobably hasn’t spared me a second thought in years. Luckily, I think about her often enough for our enmity to endure.
Still, my stomach knots when I leave the castle unguarded. The feeling dissolves the instant I see my Baroness. Standing amidst some secluded woods, she’s striking in her bold black dress. The towering treetops form a shaded canopy overhead, casting a cool, intimate gloom. She clutches her handbag under one arm with an intensity that strikes me as odd.
There’s something in her energy that puts me on edge. Fear is not an emotion I associate with her. It’s what fuelsme. Not merely the spells I cast, but the rhythm of my very heartbeat. I delight in provoking it in others, because it grants me a sense of control.
The Little Baroness resisted me at every turn this past week when I tried to evoke fear in her. But now, it seeps from her skin in invisible waves I can detect with every nerve. Oddly, instead of the satisfaction I expected, another feeling arises. A strange, protective pull.
I step forward and invade her space, relishing the shiver that runs through her body. “You summoned me, Nicole. In the middle of a forest?”
She doesn’t recoil, but her breath stutters. Is it the riddle’s answer that unsettles her?
“Are you angry?” Her chin lifts by the smallest margin—a rebellious gesture that stirs something primal inside me. As if shewants meto be angry.
My attention sweeps over the sleek black dress hugging her thighs, down to the towering heels so impractical for the woodland ground, and yet perfect on her. Nicole is a work of art. And I, master of illusion, hold true beauty in the highest regard.
“Are you trying to provoke me?” I ask.
Another pulse of fear grazes my senses. She folds her arms across her chest and presses the handbag between us like a fragile barrier. “You weren’t pleased last night when I summoned you.”
If that were said in a different tone, I would have considered it an innuendo. Or an invitation to spank her again. I’m not sure what her goal is here. Her words imply some kind of provocation, but her energy screams “fear.” Did I actually manage to scare her?
No,it definitely doesn’t give me the satisfaction I expected.
I step closer and sweep a silken strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes widen at the contact, but she doesn’t retreat. “I’m starting to wonder…” My thumb brushes the curve of her ear, tracing the delicate tip. “Is this your way of saying you’re ready to obey me and enjoy the privileges that come with it?”
She blinks, frowning, her hands tightening around her purse. “Enjoy the privileges?”
Her red lips draw my gaze, flooding my mind with images—my mouth tracing their shape, my voice against them.
“I’m bound by the terms of our contract,” I murmur, “but I could make our time together… considerably more pleasurable.”
Then, whether intentionally or not, her tongue glides across her lower lip. A small, maddening motion. Now that my hunger is no longer tinged with fury, resisting her is a far more brutal challenge. I meant to test her, to make her wrestle with pride and restraint until she surrendered and confessed. But those full, parted lips are enough to sway my resolve.
I lean in, one breath away from tasting her.
Her jaw tenses. “Is that what you did with Angelina? Made your time together morepleasant?”
