Page 45 of Viper’s Reign

“Come.”

He leads me past a spacious living room with a massive wall-mounted TV, a drooping pendant chandelier, and floor-to-ceiling windows, to a stairway. His hand firms at my back as he steers me upstairs, then down a winding hallway lined with closed doors.

“Do I get a tour?” I ask lightly, trying to cut through the tension creeping in.

“Later,” he says gruffly, finally stopping in front of a closed door. Then, quieter, “Do you trust me?”

I look up at him, but he’s already staring down at me, that strange, unreadable light in his eyes holding mine.

I hesitate. It would be foolish to trust him when I know he can’t trust me.

“I… I don’t know.”

His mouth twitches—not quite a smile, but close enough that my shoulders loosen a fraction. See, I try telling myself. He’s smiling. There’s nothing wrong. It’s your guilt making you anxious.

“Dig deep, Plamyashka. You know the answer.”

Despite my misgivings, I know what he wants to hear, so I say it, even if I’m not entirely sure I believe it.

“I suppose I do,” I falsely confess. “A little bit.”

He hums softly, like that’s enough for now. Then he reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a black blindfold.

My heart thuds.

“Turn around.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice.

Without a word, I turn my back to him, eager to hide the conflict that must be raging in my eyes.

His warmth surrounds me as he places the silk material over my eyes and ties it behind my head. Then, he leans down and whispers in my ear.

“Good girl.”

16

GRACE

Dimitri’s hand on my spine is the only thing anchoring me in the darkness.

I follow the pressure of it through the doorway and into the room. A room he said he had prepared for me.

The scent hits first. A thick, heady musk that works its way through the last of my tension and dissolves it, my muscles unknotting one by one as I inhale. Then his fingers trail up to my shoulders, sending shivers skittering over my skin.

“You look stunning in this dress,” he whispers, so that the words feel private, meant only for the dark. “But you’ll look even better with it off.”

The zipper rasps down my back. His breath fans hot against my nape as he peels the soft fabric away.

Without sight, my awareness of him feels heightened. I can hear every breath, feel every shift of air. His sharp inhale as the dress pools around my ankles hits me in my core, and I clench.

“You’re a fucking gift, solnyshko,” he growls, his palm gliding over one hardened nipple. The contact is light, but it sends a jolt straight to my clit and draws a low moan out of me. “And a curse.”

His grip tightens around my arm as he guides me deeper into the room. Then a firm nudge pushes me down onto a soft mattress.

He flattens his palm against the center of my chest, and with the slightest pressure, I’m guided back. Slowly, his hand trails down my sternum, the sides of it teasing the inner curves of my breasts as he goes, and I inhale sharply, my belly quivering as I try to think. But thought is a foreign concept right now. I can only feel.

A finger dips into my navel, and I clamp my thighs together, groaning in frustration when it’s not enough. His lips graze my lower belly, then he hooks his fingers into my panties and tugs them down.