“What’s going on?” Liam demands as my keeper unties my hands and unbuckles the straps around my head. I feel the weight of his curiosity on me, like bricks pressing me into the floor, and I wish the marble under my feet would fissure and suck me through the cracks.
“She’s all yours, Chancellor.” Mr. Bordeaux exits the library, leaving me utterly humiliated.
Chapter Seven
The musky scent of Mr. Bordeaux wafts between us in the silence, an insurmountable wall that failed to disappear with the exit of my keeper. Rubbing the ache from my jaw, I avoid Liam’s stricken expression.
“What happened?” He reaches for me, and my first instinct is to push him away.
“Don’t. He’s all over me.”
“What do you mean?”
“He came on my face.”
With a shaky breath, Liam slides a hand along my cheek, unmindful of another man’s claim on my skin. “It’s no secret I have to share you.” He runs a thumb across my lower lip. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“There’s that phrase again.” His fingers graze the leftover stickiness on my cheek. “Did he hurt you?”
Only my pride.
“He humiliated me,” I say instead, remembering how he hauled me through the estate by the chain latched to my tongue. My only comfort is that no one else witnessed the degrading parade.
“Are you going to tell me why he punished you?”
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
He frowns. “Is this an issue of futility?”
It’s an issue of me wanting to keep my tongue.
“Tattling will only get me into more trouble. It’s over now.”
A tick goes off in Liam’s jaw. “Do you believe you deserved what he did?”
“He’s not like you, Liam. When you punish, you do it with compassion. What he did…no one deserves that.”
“Then don’t let shame rule your emotions, Novalee. You have no control over how the Brotherhood treats you.” Slowly, he backs me toward the door until my spine meets the wood. “Just like you can’t stop me from kissing the hell out of you right now.” Stepping forward, he closes the last few inches, bringing our bodies flush with each other.
“Isn’t this against the rules?” I meet his gaze, reeled in by the lure of those deep umber depths.
“He gave me permission to kiss you, so that’s what I’m going to do.”
I lift a finger to his descending mouth. “Please don’t.”
“Why, my sweet girl?”
“Because I’m a mess.”
“His scent isn’t a claim on you, but my mouth will be, and I’ll be damned if I let him ruin this moment.” His lips silence any further protest, his tongue seeking entrance, and I forget all about Mr. Bordeaux and his rules. The monster’s ejaculation on my face ceases to matter when Liam kisses me like this—with ardent urgency, his lips possessive and tongue combative, pummeling me into sweet surrender.
Clutching the lapels of his jacket, I groan into his mouth. “Please,” I breathe against his lips.
“What are you pleading for?”
“Don’t make me go back to him.” Inching away, I meet his eyes. “Let’s run away. I know you have the means, and I have money in a trust my uncle can’t touch. It’s mine when I turn twenty-one. We can have a life together.”
Framing my face between his hands, he gives me a sad smile. “This is my home.” With a hard swallow, he lets a beat pass. “It’s my duty to carry out my family’s legacy. But I can offer you a promise,” he says, entwining our fingers. “I’ll do everything in my power to make sure we have a life together.”
“How can you be so confident?”
“I have faith.”
“I don’t know if I can make it through the next several months. I’ve still got two weeks with Mr. Bordeaux, and in September, Pax will have his turn.”
He winces, as if he knows exactly what I’m talking about, because it’s obvious the keeper of the dungeon is a psychotic sadist.
“Pax won’t be a problem.”
“How can you say that? You have limited power as the chancellor, remember?”
“I’m aware of my finite capabilities, but my brothers often underestimate me. I need you to trust me on this. Can you do that?”
“I can try.”
“It’s a start,” he murmurs, grabbing my hand and pulling me further into the library. I spot a game of chess on the table where, six weeks ago, a contract awarding my life to the Brotherhood awaited my uncle’s signature.
That first day within these walls seems like a lifetime ago.
“I’ll give you the first move,” he says, gesturing toward the side with the white pieces.
I slide into the seat, and after he settles in across from me, I push a pawn forward. “Ladies first, is that it? We both know you’re going to win.”
“How about I let you have this one so I can get back to worshipping your mouth?” He follows my lead and moves a pawn, but his attention stalls on my lips.