Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Don’t deflect. We just discussed how that isn’t going to work on me.”
“That was a one-sided discussion you had with yourself.” He laughed again when my glare hardened, amplifying my anger.
“If telling you how gorgeous you are angers you this much, I’ll make sure to do so repeatedly the next time we fuck.”
I vehemently shook my head, flustered and infuriated by his vulgarity. “That isn’t what we do! That’s what you do to me even as I tell you to stop.”
“Stop and don’t stop are synonymous when we’re fucking.” He leaned back and reached for his mug. “I’m curious. Imagine I slide inside you, making sure you feel every inch of me as I run my hands over your delectable body while acknowledging how well you take my cock. How beautiful you are. Would you fight harder, deliciae?”
I stared at him, my chest rising and falling as I fought to hold back tears. “What is wrong with you?”
“I told you, I’m curious. You don’t have to tell me. We can find out together.” He took another drink from his mug and then sat it down. “Now, I hate to change the subject, but there’s something I need to clarify. I thought seeing Esther and Nicolette in evening gowns for your Rite would’ve been clue enough that they aren’t servitors.”
“Servants,” I snapped.
He grinned. “It’s coined eruditio, a process in place to refine their skills.”
“What kind of skills? And why?” I dared to ask.
“There’s no limit on knowledge to better serve their masters.”
What the fuck?
“Masters?” I practically spat the word at him. “Doesn’t that mean they’re more like slaves?”
"My sister could and would never be a slave.” His tone was firm but tinged with a note of offense. “She’s doing this willingly. They both are. Nicolette is betrothed to a man who fully comprehends her value, and Esther is so beloved that no man has been deemed worthy of claiming her.”
I was torn between frustration, anger, and confusion, unable to reconcile the contradiction in his views. His world was so far removed from mine. “Will I go through this as well? The…?”
“Eruditio,” he restated. “You will never be subjected to such labors. You’ve done more than enough in your time away from home. And just to be clear, I wasn't being condescending. When I say you're perfection, I mean it. I have no doubt you'll surpass all my expectations."
His words hung in the air as I processed them, a cauldron of resentment bubbling within me. "And how could you be so sure of that?"
“You have proven to be beyond skilled in everything you do, even as an amateur.”
His response was flippant. There was an unmistakable innuendo in his words, and a blatant hint of what happened between us in the bathtub that I tried to ignore.
I pushed my plate aside and met Alexander's gaze head on. "What exactly is my role here? Why did you take me?”
With a slow exhale, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Lolita, you're my Electi. That is the most important concept for you to grasp. Once you understand that, everything else will come naturally and easily to you.”
I held back a sigh of my own and looked down at the table. I felt like we were going in circles, and I was getting nowhere. With each step forward, I found myself even more turned around. His hand suddenly covered mine, drawing my attention back to him.
"Be patient. You can't expect to understand the entirety of our way of life and have all of your concerns addressed and resolved with one conversation. With time, you will learn—starting today, in fact. After a tour of our home."
Our home. I bit my lip and glanced away, torn between the urge to demand he tell me every hidden truth and his infuriatingly logical advice to slow down. Studying where our hands met, I noticed the breakfast knife on the tabletop beside them.
Its blade was little sharper than one used to cut butter, but it would still hurt and had the potential to draw blood. Alexander's gaze followed mine. He inclined his head toward the knife. “Go on,” he taunted, his tone daring and deceptively soft. “Try me.”
His fingers tightened slightly around mine, the touch confining. The combination of his proximity and the presence of the knife created a tension that hummed between us. Part of me wanted to take him up on the challenge, prove that I wasn't completely at his mercy. The rational side of me knew how futile that would be.
Stab him and then what? Run through the house again, unable to find a way out? Even if did manage to make it outside, I was miles away from civilization. With a huff, I withdrew my hand from beneath his. “I'm not stupid enough to do that, but it is tempting.”