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"Punish me?" Violet said nervously, despite her attempt at bravery.

"Of course, my purple queen," Asher replied smoothly, his tone like silk laced with steel.

He reached out and ran his hand through her hair, the gesture so tender it was almost cruel. The contrast between his soft touch and the darkness in his voice sent chills racing down her spine. "You tried to run away from me, Violet. What queen runs from her king?"

"A king who is a manipulative, psychopathic jerk! And I’ve told you already, I’m not your queen! Stop calling me that!" she hissed, her golden eyes flashing.

For a brief moment, something flickered in Asher’s eyes, an emotion she couldn’t exactly name. But then he yanked her hair suddenly and sharply, forcing her to gasp as pain flared at her scalp.

God’s damn him!

Asher leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear, and whispered, "I told you, little purple, you’re mine."

Violet’s heart hammered in her chest, but she refused to back down.

"I’m not yours!" she spat. "I’m not some property to be owned. I’m a person with rights! And if I were to belong to anyone, you’d be the last person I’d choose, you asshole!"

Her words were brave, but Violet knew provoking him was dangerous. Still, she couldn’t stop herself. Asher could go to hell for all she cared.

Instead of anger, Asher laughed. It was a low, wicked sound that made her skin crawl. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing her neck so lightly it made her shiver, though she fought to suppress it. No, this was not attraction; it was her body reacting to his nearness. That was all.

Asher smirked, clearly noticing her reaction. "Don’t worry, little queen," he said with a teasing purr. "We’ll see how long you hold onto those bold words after I’m done with you."

At once, Violet’s defiance faltered, her expression replaced by a sudden fear. "What are you going to do to me?" she gulped.

His grin deepened, dark and full of unspoken promises. "Something you’re not going to hate."

Violet swallowed wondering what on earth he meant by that.

Before she could question him further, Asher stepped back, sitting down leisurely at the foot of her bed as if he owned the place. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes burned with intensity.

"Take off your clothes," he commanded suddenly, his voice dripping with authority.

Violet’s eyes widened in shock, and she opened her mouth to protest, but she felt the force of his power crash over her like a wave. Her body moved against her will, her fingers already reaching for the satchel on her back.

No! She didn’t want this! But her hands wouldn’t obey her.

The satchel fell to the floor, followed by her dark jacket. Panic and mortification surged through her veins as she reached for the waistband of her black pants. She had no control, her body compelled to obey his every word.

Her pants slipped off, leaving her standing there in just her white tank top and black panties.

Violet’s cheeks burned with humiliation, her hands shaking as they moved to the hem of her tank top.

She wanted to stop, but she was powerless, and completely at Asher’s mercy. And it infuriated her so much.

"Leave the rest on," Asher commanded, his voice halting her torment.

She was released from the influence of his control and Violet staggered back a step, clutching at her shirt as if it were armor. Relief flooded her, but it was short-lived. She could feel Asher’s gaze raking over her, his gray-slitted eyes devouring her as if she were prey.

Her breaths came in short gasps, her entire body tense. She glared at Asher but the bastard’s grin was wide, as if he enjoyed every second of her torment.

So Violet decided to change the rules of his game. She shut her eyes at once.

Asher’s powers only worked when he was staring in the eyes of his victim. If Asher wanted to compel her, he would have to pry her eyes open by himself. Violet was betting on his supposed affection for her to prevent him from hurting her.

"What are you doing?" he asked in surprise.

Violet didn’t flinch, didn’t move. "What do you think I’m doing? You might as well render me blind to have these eyes open," she snapped. Her resolve was unyielding.

"And why would I do that, my purple queen?" Asher’s voice was suddenly at her ear, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.

Violet gasped, startled. She hadn’t even heard him move. How was he behind her already? But she reminded herself with a silent curse: He’s a werewolf, idiot. Werewolves were quick, stealthy, predators by nature.

Still, no matter how tempting it was to peek and see what he was up to, she didn’t dare open her eyes.

"You think I’m going to hurt my queen?" His tone was layered with disbelief, but it carried a dangerous edge that made Violet’s stomach twist.

Before she could respond, she felt the faintest brush of his hand against her back. The contact sent a jolt through her, a thrill she didn’t want to acknowledge. Her body betrayed her, almost arching into his touch before she caught herself.

Oh, gods. She was in deep trouble.

Violet had thought that her defiance would force Asher to back off. She’d assumed his pride or reluctance to hurt her would end the standoff. What she hadn’t accounted for was his cunning. Asher Nightshade didn’t play fair, and she was starting to see just how dangerous that made him.

His hands trailed lightly across her stomach, the brief contact making her breath hitch in her throat. Just as quickly, the sensation vanished, leaving her more on edge than before.

"What are you doing?" Violet asked, her voice trembling despite her attempt to sound steady. Her heart raced, pounding loudly in her ears. She couldn’t predict him, couldn’t anticipate where he’d strike next. He was like a shadow, moving with a ghostly silence that unnerved her.

"Why don’t you open your eyes and find out, my purple queen?" he teased, his voice a silky taunt, now coming from her left.

The temptation to open her eyes was overwhelming. It gnawed at her like an insidious whisper urging her to have just a peek.

But Violet wasn’t naive, this was exactly what he wanted. Asher was playing her, manipulating her, pulling every string he could to make her succumb.

Except, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.