Page 89 of Point of Contention

Rylan tensed at the word and I closed my eyes, shaking my head—

“I’m not his pet.”

I growled as anger pulsed in my veins. I loved Rylan’s strength, her smart mouth, but she needed to remember her place here. Especially where I was concerned. Even more so where Mistress Sinclair was concerned.

The door closed at the top of the stairs and I turned my attention to Rylan. “We’ve forgotten the rules.”

She blanched and slipped her arm free of mine, then dropped her head. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I’ll help you remember,” I growled in her ear as I slid my hand around her neck, tilting her head back so I could look down into her eyes. “Who do you belong to?”

“You, Sir.”

Her pupils dilated as she said the words and my cock twitched in response.

“Act like it,” I snapped, then I led her deeper into the club, turning us down a hallway toward my private quarters. Leaving her standing outside the door, I slipped into my room and stripped out of my shirt. Hanging it up in the wardrobe, I retrieved my leather hood and positioned it into place over my head.

Rylan had forgotten who I was here, who she was with me.

When I opened the door, her head lifted and her eyes widened.

A shiver of anticipation trembled through her shoulders, but then she dropped her head in deference.

I placed my hand back at the base of her head, my skin humming at the connection. She fit so perfectly beneath my palm. “Come,” I commanded as I led her back the way we came, only this time, we turned toward the night club in the center of the Rabbit Hole, rather than returning to the stairwell leading up to White Rabbit.

Rylan wasn’t the only one who’d forgotten who she belonged to. It was time I reminded them all.

Word would travel.

To Gage.

To Stella.

My hand on Rylan’s neck was more than just a claim to her, more than a show of ownership; the connection allowed me to feel her muscles, sense when she was relaxed—and when she was not.

Stopping abruptly when her shoulders tensed beneath my palm, I scanned the dance floor and surrounding booths for the resident Viking.

Sure enough, Gage sat in a booth in the far corner, arms spread out across the back like he owned the place. My pulse beat heavy like a drum as my anger surged to the surface and blood rushed loudly through my ears. I was a man of control. Discipline. Yes, I wanted to shatter his hand for thinking he could put it anywhere near Rylan, but I couldn’t act on that anger, that carnal need for revenge.

A blonde sat on either side of Gage. On one side, his sub; on the other…

My fingers flexed on Rylan’s neck as my eyes landed on the woman I’d spent five nights with immediately following our break-up.

My stomach sank into my balls.Fuck.

I still hadn’t told Rylan.

We’d covered so much ground in the last twenty-four hours, but the week I’d spent in the Rabbit Hole without Rylan hadn’t been one of the topics we’d addressed.

I hadn’t even thought of it. A multitude of more important things had been addressed.

And this woman meant nothing to me.

But I doubted Rylan would see it that way.

A cocktail server approached us with a glass of amber liquid on the rocks and a flute of prosecco. I lifted my gaze, only to be locked in the Viking’s iceberg stare.

He raised a glass in salute, the ballsy fuck.