Page 75 of Viper’s Reign

He pauses. I hear a password being entered, then the soft click of a door. His warm scent envelops me, and my heart skips as I realize where we are. He brought me to his room. The first time he’s brought me back since the night I injected him. The significance isn’t lost on me, and slowly, the sobs start to ease, breaking down into quiet, shaky breaths as I lift my face from his neck.

He’s already looking down at me, brows drawn together, concern softening those beautiful eyes in a way that makes my chest ache all over again. “Did I push you too hard?”

I shake my head, hiccuping. “No—no.” I drop my head, unable to hold on to that look that almost tricks me into believing he cares—cares about me. He doesn’t. I glance at his shirt instead, soaked clean through, and run a useless hand over the fabric. “Your clothes…”

“Shh, I’m fine.” His hand comes up to the back of my head, fingers working slowly through my scalp, and it feels so good that my eyes flutter shut, my head dropping back against his shoulder. The tears, at least, have stopped.

He starts walking again, and when I open my eyes, we’re at the bed. He climbs in with me still in his arms, and I snuggle into him. For a few minutes, neither of us speaks. Then I glance up at him, a little hesitant. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you don’t need to apologize for that.” His voice is so soft it makes the guilt worse. I hurt him on this very bed… and I still can’t tell him why. He cups my chin and tilts my face up until I have to meet his eyes. I don’t want to meet his eyes. There’s a look in them that makes it very hard to keep lying to him.

“I don’t even know what triggered the tears,” I murmur. “I’m sorry.” This time, I’m not only apologizing for crying on him, but for everything else too. He seems to understand, though, as he releases my chin without pushing.

“What happened back there was intense, and you didn’t get to come,” he says lightly. “It’s a totally normal reaction.”

“You say that with so much confidence. Makes me wonder how many women you’ve tortured like that.” My heart pangs as I imagine him doing that with other women who aren’t me. I have no right to feel this way, I know, but fuck, it still hurts.

“Jealous?” He smirks, and I glare at him, hating how on the mark he is. “You have no reason to be. You’re the only woman I’ve had the patience to do this with. The others were just quick fucks. So yeah… what I’m telling you is that this was a first for both of us.”

“So I’m special?” I mean it sarcastically, but a note of vulnerability slips into my voice, which he catches—he’s too perceptive for his own good, damn him. “Forget I asked,” I rush out before he can answer. “I want another question answered.”

He raises a brow and gestures for me to continue.

“I asked before, but you didn’t really answer,” I say slowly. “If you found out the truth about me when you got back on shore, why invite me to your brother’s wedding and insist on seeing me again?”

He studies me for a moment. “Because I was curious. Why did you lie to get on that yacht? To give me your virginity? I wanted to know what your deal was.”

My cheeks heat at the virginity comment, but I push past it as I think back to that second evening. He showed no sign of knowing anything. He really is good at controlling himself. “I didn’t want to hurt you. That’s why I tried to end things that night, but you didn’t let me.” The last bit comes out sharper than I intend, almost like an accusation, and he cocks his brow.

“So it’s my fault I almost died.”

“I’m pointing out that you had opportunities. After the wedding, too. You could have asked me outright. Instead, you brought me here.”

“And what would you have done if I did? Told me the truth?” He waits for a moment, and when I don’t answer, he nods like that settles it. “That’s what I thought. You wouldn’t have told me anything if I asked nicely, so I brought you here.”

Everything falls into place. “You built that BDSM room for this,” I say out loud. “You planned to sexually torment me until I talked.”

He snaps his fingers at me. “Bingo. But then you struck before I could.” A ghost of a smile crosses his face. “So yes, you are special. The first person whose attempt on my life nearly worked.”

The reminder drops into my stomach like a stone. “How long are you going to keep holding that over me?”

“It’s only been a week, baby. I’m going to hold it over you until you tell me who sent you, and then some more whenever it suits me.”

I bristle. “And I’ll keep reminding you that I tried to let you go, even at risk to myself and—” I trail off, catching the slip. “I tried to protect you, but you insisted. You insisted.”

“You could have come to me with the truth. We could have worked together.”

That gives me pause. “Would you have believed me? Or would you have thought I was some crazy bitch trying to play you?” I ask, genuinely curious.

He exhales. “There’s no way to know now.”

No. There isn’t.

I lie down on my side and, after a brief hesitation, I roll closer. His arm comes around my shoulders, pulling me against his chest, and I let out a contented sigh, ignoring the dull, persistent ache still lingering between my thighs as I sink into his warmth.

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