Page 32 of His Haunted Desire

She purses her lips with pure defiance and then places her hand on mine. “Tell me what the dare said.”

“He dared me to trade you with one of the other guests and fuck the other guest’s girl as he fucked you.” I laugh in disbelief. “I’m not letting that happen.”

“Because if your grandma found out, she’d doubt that we’re real,” Aurora mutters.

“Sure,” I grunt.

Let’s go with that.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes, actually,” she says.

“We’ll go to the dining area. It’s the most normal part about this place.”

She takes my arm. “Then lead the way, sir.”

That lifts my mood despite everything. We walk through the dance hall, turn down a corridor lined with suits of armor and mounted weaponry, then emerge into the restaurant. A masked greeter leads us to a candlelit table in the corner.

“Your grandma pulls out all the stops,” Aurora says when I pull out her seat. “Thank you.”

I sit opposite. “Yep.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you can be very grumpy?”

I laugh humorlessly. “Yes, in fact.”

“Don’t worry.” She lowers her voice and leans forward. “That dare doesn’t mean anything. I know I’m justyourpurchase.”

I don’t laugh at that.

“Being reminded of the transactional nature of this, again and again, wasn’t in the damn contract.”

“Okay, jeez.”

A long, awkward pause follows. I’m about to speak when the waiter brings two menus. Outside, wind rushes against the window, and something makes a loud crashing noise. Lightning maybe, or a statue toppling over.

“Sorry,” I finally say. “I didn’t mean to snap.”

“It’s not my place to judge you or take offense or anything, really.”

“I shouldn’t have snapped,” I reiterate. “Accept the damn apology.”

She sighs and looks around the room. Her mouth isn’t as sassy as it normally is. No pout. No sarcastic twitch in her lip. She seems hurt by my tone, and I can’t blame her.

“Your wish is my command. Or have I got that the other way around?”

My command is your wish. That was what I told her when we first met. The more time I spend with her, the truer the words seem. She pretends not to enjoy the attention, to resent my command. But she can’t mask her moans or the heat in her body.

“Maybe it’s my job as your loyal, loving girlfriend to drag you out of this bad mood,” Aurora says.

“Oh yeah? How’d you plan on doing that?”

“First, by accepting your apology, even if it was the grumpiest apology I’ve ever heard. And secondly, by changing the subject. Tell me who you are, Raiden, behind the mask.”

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of a masquerade ball?”

“I’m not talking about this.” She leans over the table and prods my mask. “I mean the mask you wear even when you’re not wearing a mask.”