Pepper Winters - Twisted Together

Q narrowed his eyes. “I see two things make you nervous: what I’m going to do to you tonight, and talking about any offspring we may or may not have.” He ran a finger over his bottom lip. “After all, we do need an heir to take over our company. Can’t rely on Frederick to propagate—I think that man shoots blanks.”

I wanted to laugh.

But all I could focus on was ours.

Our company.

Our children.

No longer mine, and his, and separation.

Together.

Ours.

The waiter appeared with a groaning tray of food. I leaned away, throwing back the rest of my drink, silently thanking the intrusion. I needed time to think. To pull myself together.

Plates of delicatessen hors d’oeuvres, salads, gourmet breads, dips, gnocchi, prawns in ravioli, lobster fettuccine, tiny lasagnes, and feta wrapped with aubergine decorated the table.

I’d never seen such incredible looking food. And I wouldn’t be able to eat any of it. My stomach was a churning mess; my mind consumed with images of a future I never thought I wanted.

The waiter smiled once everything had been placed accordingly. “Another drink?”

Q nodded, passing him his empty tumbler. “Martini and single-malt whiskey. Grazie.”

The waiter nodded, then disappeared to fulfil the request.

Q eyed the food, before glancing at me. His face tensed as he froze. “Quel est le problème maintenant, esclave?” What’s the matter now, esclave?

I fluffed my curls, airing my suddenly heat-prickled back. Nothing was wrong—in fact, everything was amazing. We were finally talking, learning, exploring one another. I wasn’t hungry for food, but knowledge. I wanted in—to his secrets, his thoughts, his hopes and dream.

I was endlessly greedy for anything he would share.

“I want to do something.” Did I just say that? Shit, Tess. I hadn’t thought it through. The idea just sprang into my head. Q would say no. Of course, he would say no.

Q smiled as the waiter returned with fresh drinks then left again. Q raised the whiskey to his lips. “For you to flush as bad as you have, I’m guessing it’s either sexual or something you think I’m not going to agree to.”

I copied him, sipping my martini. “Forget it. It’s a stupid idea. Let’s eat.” I looked longingly at the food, knowing I’d end up with horrendous indigestion if I ate while so worked up. I had to relax.

“Tess…don’t make me spank you in public.”

My eyes flew to his where a small smile graced his lips. I sucked in a breath, trying to find courage. “Okay…have you heard of Truth or Dare?”

Q’s nostrils flared. “Of course I’ve heard of it and you were right to flush. I won’t play it.”

Grabbing my fork, I speared a gnocchi and placed it in my mouth. It tasted heavenly—rich, buttery, but it could’ve been ash for how much I wanted it. Swallowing hard, I took another sip of my drink.

A rush of queasiness rolled my world; I carefully placed the glass on the table. Q was succeeding in getting me tipsy. My nerves only rushed the intoxication.

Silence fell between us while Q sampled a piece of everything. The way his lips slid off the fork and his jaw worked so smoothly as he chewed, pushed aside my nerves in favour of desire. He couldn’t do anything without making it erotically charged and—intentionally or not—making me wet.

I tried to eat, succeeding in devouring a few pieces of prawn ravioli, before Q put his fork down. He gulped a shot of whiskey. “Have you played before?”

I instantly thought of Brax and his straight-laced ways. I thought of my parents and their cool indifference. I thought of my brother and his bullying. I thought of my friends and their giggling, slutty knowledge. Not once had I played. Not once had I done anything so reckless as to give someone the right to ask me any question or submit to any dare.

It was dangerous. It was ludicrous. I should stop this.

“No.”

His face remained unreadable.  “Why do you want to play?”

I clutched my fork, turning my knuckles white, brandishing it as if it would save me from the awkward conversation. “Because it will force you to answer questions you might not want to otherwise.”

His eyes narrowed. “What sort of questions do you have in mind?” His fingers twitched around his glass, giving the impression he didn’t want to play, not because it was a stupid game, but rather because he had too much to hide. I wanted to know what he kept hidden.

I wanted to know why he hadn’t stopped glowering around the restaurant. I wanted to know why we stayed in a hotel with thumbprints for keys.

“I don’t know. Probably stupid things that you won’t care telling me. It’s just the structure of the game that’ll make it easier.”

“Easier?” His eyebrow raised.

I nodded. “You don’t exactly come baggage free, Q. I’m not going to pry into things better left unsaid, but I would like to know more about you.” He remained silent, swirling his whiskey.

“Plus, you can avoid a question if you really don’t want to answer, by accepting the dare.”

“And if I don’t want to do the dare? Then what? You force me to answer the question?” He shook his head. “No—”

I didn’t know if this was part of the rules or not but if it got him to play I’d allow it. “You can drink—if you don’t want to answer or do the dare—you can drink and move on.”

His eyes locked on mine. “And you wouldn’t sulk or argue if I refused?”

I scowled. “You think I sulk?” Shit, did I sulk? I tucked an unruly curl behind my ear. “No. If that question is off bounds, I’ll honour that.”

We fell silent. Q picked at the food, thoughts racing in his gaze. A few bites later, he asked, “And what about you? Will you answer a question I might ask—even if you don’t want to?” Putting his fork on his plate, he leaned forward, eyes deadly serious, almost frightening. “I want into your head more than you probably want into mine, Tess. You sure you can handle letting me have unguarded access?”

My palms went slick with nerves; my stomach churned even more. “But I can accept a dare—I have a way out.”

Q’s gaze dropped to my lips. “Drinking, or a dare—nothing would truly save you. The moment you refuse to answer a question, I’ll pursue it until you tell me. I might not get the answer tonight, but I will eventually…you’d tell me, Tess…you know why?”

My heart whizzed around my chest like a faulty sparkler. “Why?”

“Because I own you. Tu es à moi.” You’re mine. “And your thoughts belong to me, just as much as your heart, body, and soul.”

He shattered the achingly thick awareness between us by reclining and taking another sip. “If you accept those terms, then fine. I’ll play.” His permission layered with promise and warning. If I said yes, Q would have a free pass to anything he wanted. But if I did, I would have that same pass to learn more about the man I’d bound my life to.

It was tempting. It was scary.

I already knew my answer.

“I accept.”

Q nodded, looking elegant and professional, as if he’d struck a good business transaction. Raising his almost empty glass, he signalled for the waiter. “In that case. We need a few more of these.”

We were nothing before, now we’re completely sure. Each other’s possession, obsession, we’re free just you and me

What the fuck was I doing?

Agreeing to play a juvenile game? It wasn’t just a game—it came with disastrous consequences. There was no way I would have any luck playing it. I didn’t mean to keep Tess in the dark—but there was a lot of my past I would never talk about. Things I refused to even remember or contemplate. Things I’d forced so far inside, I could almost pretend they never happened. I didn’t want to show vulnerability by drinking, even if I refused to answer.

And I definitely didn’t want to let her know just how nervous I was. Something about tonight…it was…off. I couldn’t be sure if it was lack of sleep and the strain from yesterday, or if I had a right to be concerned. Either way, I didn’t need Tess panicking over nothing. It was my job to carry the burden of safety and I’d finally fixed her—I refused to believe my time was almost up.

Damn motherfucking time.

But you’ll get into her head. Free access.

Even if she refused a question, I would know what topics to chase; I’d understand her better by her avoidance, as much as her acquiescence.

But that would work both ways. Tess would know—even when I refused to tell her.

Was I in denial? Possibly. But it made me a happier person not having to deal with the shit coating my soul. Or the evilness encroaching on our future.

A pair of green eyes filled my mind.

Fuck.

It’d been so long since I let myself think about her. Forcing her far away—pretending she never existed. It was easier that way. Liveable that way.

I dragged a hand through my hair, desperate for more whiskey. I wanted to be seriously drunk for this—but then my mouth would be loose—my reactions compromised. Tapping my ankle against the chair leg, I let the small scabbard and knife strapped to my calf comfort me.

I can’t be drunk.

My tongue would forget to lie; the truth would spill free—Tess would know exactly what I wanted to keep hidden.

The only way to get through this was to stay stone-cold sober.

Looking at Tess, I forced my heart from tripping like I’d taken a vial full of cocaine. Tonight was all about tripping her up. She wanted to play? Fan-fucking-tastic. I’d use it to my advantage, then I’d fuck her like I’d been dying to do since I’d strapped her to the cross in my bedroom.