2
" What do we have here?” Grant slurs at me. He seems different and it raises flags in my mind. His fingers wrap around a section of my hair and it scares me. His face is flushed red and his eyes are glassy and bright. I can smell the smoky scent of whiskey or scotch rolling off his tongue as he speaks and breathes heavily.
“I’m lost and I need a ride home.” My voice wavers as I speak and I hate it. I fist my hands in the hem of my blazer.
“I’ll get Albert for you, but first spend some time with me,” he slurs again, sounding like his tongue is too large for his mouth. As if sensing my attention, the tip of his tongue sneaks out and slides along his supple bottom lip. He smiles as he tastes the alcohol that’s staining his mouth. His eyes are bright and shiny and glazed over. He has a smirk on his face that shows off his dimple. It no longer reminds me of Whitt. It seems sinister and dangerous- promising something I’m not ready to experience.
The feel of his fingers playing with my hair gives me goosebumps and I shiver as my scalp tightens, sucking up the pleasant attention. I do my first stupid-girl moment of my life. I shameless crush on a guy and let it turn my thoughts to mush.
“Okay, if you promise to call Albert first.” I try to negotiate with him and he gives me a naughty smirk for agreeing.
He backs me up with his physical presence. His front touches mine- chest-to-chest. His lips part and breathes the smoky, whiskey scent onto my chin. My back hits the door behind me with an audible thump. He reaches around me and I don’t wince. I anticipate him touching me and crave it. Instead, his hand twists the doorknob by my hip and I fall backwards.
I’m pushed into a dark room until my legs connect with the edge of a bed. I can’t see anything, and the only sound is our combined breathing. I feel alive with caution. I’m aware of every hair, every nerve on my flesh. My senses are so in-tuned that I can feel my system pumping the blood through my veins nourishing my whole body. "
― Erica Chilson , Jaded (Mistress & Master of Restraint, #5)
3
" His tunic was unbuttoned at the top, and he ran a hand through his blue-black hair before he wordlessly slumped against the wall across from me and slid to the floor." What do you want?" I demanded." A moment of peace and quiet," he snapped, rubbing his temples.I paused. " From what?" He massaged his pale skin, making the corners of his eyes go up and down, out and in. He sighed. " From this mess." I sat up farther on my pallet of the hay. I'd never seen him so candid." That damned bitch is running me ragged," he went on, and dropped his hands from his temples to lean his head against the wall. " You hate me. Imagine how you'd feel if I made you serve in my bedroom. I'm High Lord of the Night Court - not her harlot." So the slurs were true. And I could imagine very easily how much I would hate him - what it would do to me - to be enslaved to someone like that. " Why are you telling me this?" The swagger and nastiness were gone. " Because I'm tired and lonely, and you're the only person I can talk to without putting myself at risk." He let out a low laugh. " How absurd: a High Lord of Prythian and a - " " You can leave if you're just going to insult me." " But I'm so good at it" . He flashed one of his grins. I glared at him, but he sighted. " One wrong move tomorrow, Freyre, and we're all doomed. "