Page 63 of The Villain We Tempt

My pulse races and my breath turns shallow as I re-read his words three times.

I want so badly to laugh. To roll my eyes and tell him he’s wrong. That he’s been reading too much “psychology of seduction” manosphere bullshit.

But I can’t.

Because horribly, viscerally, and with shocking clarity, I realize thathe’s right.

In my day-to-day life, Ilivefor structure. Schedules set. Outfits laid out the night before. School notes highlighted and tabbed with corresponding colors.

Hair always perfect. Week always organized. Content shot and edited and ready to serve to my followers on a precise schedule.

I have a calendar of my professors'birthdays, for fuck’s sake.

But in the darker recesses of my mind, when the lights go out and I’m alone with my desires?

Yep.

Handing over control to someone else and being totally at their mercy and in their power is what I crave. It’s why I gravitate to dark romance involving restraint, blackmail, and dubious non-consent kinks. It’s why the other night, when I crawled to him, and knelt before him, and let himuse melike that, it was the hottest sexual experience of my life.

The Ghost Prince

I have a proposal.

The Ghost Prince

I'll be your masked stranger, little villain. Your fantasy. We’ll agree on some basic rules, but beyond that, you won’t know when I’ll be there. And when I do find you, and take away that control, you’ll give it willingly.

The Ghost Prince

I know you get tired holding onto all that control, baby. I can take it away from you. For you.

The Ghost Prince

That, Galina, is my proposal.

I stare at the phone for what feels like an hour but is probably more like three minutes.

I havenoidea how to respond to that.

I mean, I know how Iwantto respond. But I’m also not suicidal.

Ultimately, that’s what stops me from answering at all as I slip my phone away and take a shaky breath.

What thehellhave I stumbled into, and who thefuckis this guy?

I slump back against the bleacher behind me. I glance over and let my gaze linger on the drawing on Arianna’s sketchpad.

It’s of a shirtless man, muscled and tattooed, leaning on a motorcycle. His dark hair looks wet with sweat and hangs in his broody eyes. A cigarette dangles from his lips. My gaze slides past the pad, and I grin when I see the obvious reference.

The boxing club fights that were going on before are over. Now, a group of shirtless, bloodied Reckless members is grinning and slapping each other on the backs like a bunch of lunatics.

Ari’s drawing reference isn't standing with them.

Adrik Volkov is back next to his motorcycle—shirtless, sweating, a little bloodied, and a cigarette in his lips, just like in the drawing.

Unlikein the drawing, though, he’s not alone. Bella Drakos is standing next to him, leaning back against his bike too.

“Wow, that’s…really good.”