Ruthless Empire (Royal Elite #6) by Rina Kent

He tugs on the pin holding my blonde strands, letting them fall in cascades down my back. “You shouldn’t be jealous of Jennifer.”

“Stop saying that. I’m not.”

“Is that why you kicked her out?”

“I kicked her out because she’s fake. She’s not me, okay?”

“I’m good with that.”

“W-what?”

“I don’t care as long as there’s a resemblance.” He runs his fingers through my hair. “What’s it going to be, Butterfly? Take her place or should I call her back?”

“If you do that, I’ll go fuck Aiden.”

He laughs, but there’s no humour behind it as he tugs on my hair. “We both know you won’t do that.”

“Do you want a video this time?”

He pulls me from the door and throws me on the bed. My gasp invades the air when my back hits the soft mattress. I swallow as I get caught in his darkened eyes.

This is the side of Cole he allows no one to see. The side where he’s ready to finish lives while he’s smiling.

He reaches into a drawer by the bed and retrieves several ropes. My eyes widen. Does Ronan allow him to keep things like that in his house?

“Her or you?”

I lift my chin. “She must be already gone.”

“She’ll come back with a simple text. What’s it going to be, Silver?”

“Do you fuck them after you tie them up?” My voice trembles at the end, and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for asking the question I’ve been wondering about since the day I saw that picture on his phone.

He raises a brow. “You can find out after I tie you up.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You can’t fuck me. You can just look at me and wish you had me, but you can’t fuck me.” I won’t be one of his others. I’ll be me. The one he can’t have no matter how much he wishes to.

“I don’t agree to that.” Cole approaches me.

“It’s my deal or no deal.”

“You’re going to regret that, Butterfly.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Remove the dress,” he orders.

“You’re not going to fuck me, so no.”

He narrows his eyes, but he quickly masks it. “Very well, Silver. Let’s do it your way.”

Yes, my way.

Power buzzes through me like a high. I lie on the bed, and even though I feel a sense of control, I can’t help thinking it’s a fake one.

No. I am in control. We’re doing it my way.

Cole parts my legs and secures them to the poles of the bed. The feel of his fingers against my skin is like lava. The ropes dig into my skin so I test them by wiggling my toes; they tighten around my flesh. He moves to my hands, and when I’m spread-eagled, I realise the mistake I’ve made.

I’ve left myself under his control, where he can revoke the stakes on me. Where he can decide to never untie me.

Trying not to freak out, I speak in my most composed tone, “Now what?”

“I’m not done.”

He rummages through the drawer and brings out a ball gag and a blindfold. I swallow, then pretend the notion of losing all my senses doesn’t scare the shit out of me.

“Do you want me to stop here, pat you on the back, and let you go?” He asks in the same mocking tone he usually uses to ask if I’m a coward. He’s saying it without the words.

“I’m not a quitter,” I say.

A smile curves his lips as he wraps the gag around my mouth and straps it behind my head, which he lets fall to the pillow. Almost instantly, drool forms over the rubber no matter how much I try to swallow.

Cole’s sadistic smile is the last thing I see before he secures the blindfold over my eyes, plunging my world into darkness.

Losing my sight makes me super aware of everything else. Like the feel of the soft sheets beneath me, Cole’s cinnamon and lime scent, the goosebumps he leaves behind as he glides his finger down my cheek.

“You fucked up, Silver.” His sinister voice fills the silence of the air like doom. “You shouldn’t have given me this power over you.”

“Mmmm,” I mumble, but the gag stops me from forming any words.

He traces my upper lip. “Do you know how much I’ve fantasised about having you completely at my mercy?”

Cole fantasised about me?

Oh, God. Why does that sound more wrong than the current situation?

And why do I want to look at his face as he says it?

His fingers wrap around my throat and he squeezes. It’s not suffocating and nowhere near as hard as when he fucked me against the shower wall, but a full-body shudder grips me and zaps straight between my legs. It could be the helplessness, or the fact that I can’t stop him if he does squeeze too tight.

“I can’t fuck you, but I can play with you.” His hand leaves my neck and his entire presence vanishes.

The loss registers in my chest before I can control my reaction.

Where is he? Did he leave?

What seems like hours — but could be only minutes — pass as I try to control my drooling and count the pulses in my ears.

God, why do I feel so hyperaware of everything?

“Cole…” I mumble his name around the ball gag. It comes out unintelligible.