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I think of the things that are probably running through his mind.

Cute.

I still rile him up. Of course I do, he’s mine.

Truthfully, I didn’t care for Daniel’s internship, but I did care about joining his mystery project. So, I had to play my role just right to get the information I needed about Queen B .

After all, it was my thesis, and Tate’s, that was stolen, that created it. An experiment dripping in gold, one that I discovered thanks to being my professor’s good little whore. It’s truly fascinating how gullible even the smartest man in the room can be when you have something they desire.

It’s an honor that he used my thoughts to sell it off to a big corporation–that was nothing, but what they plan to do with the specimen would be groundbreaking, scary–so fucking life altering that I need in.

Not for them.

But for me. Because I have even bigger plans, and for that, I would need to be right in the middle of the action. Tate’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

“Are you even listening?”

“I am.” I scowl, “ What do you want Tate?”

“I told you what I want, stop playing games with me,” he says through clenched teeth, his warm breath fanning over my lips, making me shiver with need.

For a small moment, the mask slips and behind all his anger–there’s the pain. His love all laid bare for me to see, but as quickly as it’s there, it fades.

“Tell the professor you are done, you don’t need it. Say you’re going to Bora Bora, whatever you fucking want, or else I’ll expose you and him.”

“And if I don’t?” I push him away, looking at my manicured nails, letting him simmer in his small victory–one I handed him. And who said I didn’t love my Tate?

“Cordelia,” he groans.

“I’ll do it,” I snap, turning on my heel when suddenly his warmth wraps around me like a blanket. His breath is hot on my neck as he leans in and bites me, causing me to arch into him–my body responding to his call, fitting perfectly.

“Tate, what are you doing?”

I try to steady my voice, but I know he heard the small crack that screams my need. The bite should have pissed me off but it didn’t–it made me wet.

“One more thing, Cordy. Next weekend, starting Thursday, you’re ours.”

I swallow.

“Ours?” I ask, playing dumb, which must have annoyed, maybe even irritated Tate, as he wraps his inked hand around my throat, his long hair falling on my exposed shoulder as his other hand hikes up the length of my red strapless dress.

“Ours, Cordy,” he breathes.

Narrowing my eyes, I study him, “What does it mean?”

It’s not like I hid the fact that Chase and I still fucked; of course we did. He belonged to me, and Tate did too. He just enjoys resisting, but I still hear him listening through the walls, fucking his hand wishing it was my cunt. He inhales deeply. “What it sounds like,” is all he says.

Rolling my eyes, I whisper. “I can’t.”

“Find a way. We are going on a little trip,” he says before placing soft, tender kisses on my shoulder, causing me to arch even more, my ass pressing against the hardness hiding beneath his jeans.

“Why?”

“To let loose, Cordy. It’s a musical festival on an island.”

I knit my brows together. This wasn’t Tate’s idea; he hates large gatherings, so that means it’s my sweet boy, Chase.

“Fine, I’ll pull my application for the internship,” I say, pulling away again, but his hand reaches out, grabbing me by the wrist as he presses something.

The screen in the garage turns on, and front and center is me wearing my little blue dress–the one Daddy got for me on a trip to Spain–and my professor, cock deep in my mouth.

My core throbs, and I bite back the urge to smile because everything is so perfect.

“No, please. I’ll go.”

My lack of hesitation has Tate reconsidering, but his need to have us together wins, overruling his instinct to question me. But what's the worst that can happen at a stupid music festival… I can go have my fun and see what kind of specimen thrives on Luna Island.

Nothing screams opportunity more than isolation and fungi always thrive when no one is watching.

My grin spreads as I push him away, surprising him… is he unaware that our beloved is walking us straight into madness.

Luckily I am more mad than the island itself.

They want to create control, but I want evolution.

Dinner with our parents goes the same way every week with small talk about grades, projects. Tate’s mom beams with excitement every time her son talks about some new plant he’s planted out back for her, while Dad asks me the same question as always.

“How is the process for the Luxor Lab internship going?”

I cough, almost choking on the piece of steak.

“I backed out,” I say dryly, not bothering to look in his direction nor Tate’s.

“But you worked so hard, why now?” Dad asks, looking at me as if I lost my mind like my mother. I try hard not to focus on the disappointment in his voice, or the way my fingers curl tightly around my fork.

“I just don’t want it.”

“You—”

My dad begins just as he’s interrupted by Jenn’s tender voice.

“Honey, I'm sure she knows what she’s doing.”She quickly intervenes in trying to end the conversation before it escalates.

From the corner of my eye, I watch as he opens his mouth to speak, but instead he excuses himself from the table, leaving us eating in silence.

“Thank you.”

I look over at Jenn, who offers me a warm smile before grabbing her plate and leaving me alone with Tate. But I don’t linger—don’t give him the chance to console me with that smug sarcasm he calls concern. Instead, I rise, take my plate, and walk away letting him believe this is his victory.

If anything, he should be thanking me for his win.

I head into the kitchen, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Even queens bleed. But no one sees the cuts when you’re smiling.

Especially when you’re the one holding the knife.