Year Three (Kingmakers, #3)

by Sophie Lark

“A man does not drink from a toilet when he has fine wine at home,” Dominik replies dismissively.

“I knew I would win because I promised Sasha I would,” he said. “And I’ve never failed her yet.”

Dean seizes me by the back of the neck and kisses me hard. I taste the blood on his lip, like salt and iron.

“We don’t have to fight, little kitten,” he says. His voice is smoother than melted butter. “If you’re an obedient pet, I could be a very kind master . . .”

“Me encanta tu fragrancia,” she moans, as she starts to cum. I’ve never heard Cat lapse into her native language. Her English is perfect and unaccented.

When I’m with Dean I don’t have to think, or plan, or worry.

But never once like this, out in the open . . . as two people, falling in love.

“I’m jealous,” I say, seizing her arm and pulling her close. “Any time anyone looks at you, or speaks to you, I’m jealous. I want all your minutes, and all your words. I want all of you, all the time.”

My words are cut off by a swift and accurate knee to the groin from my beloved.

“Why can’t you see that I love you? I fucking love you! I don’t care what you do to me, I don’t care what you say to me. I don’t care if you lie or scream or try to run away. I don’t care if you’re filthy or soaked in bleach or set on fucking fire! Why can’t you understand I love you! Without limit or reason.”

“Cat,” I say. “You don’t know what a monster I can be, but I’ll be your monster. Everything I do will be for you. To protect you. To help you. To love you every day of my life. I’ll burn this whole fucking world down for you if that’s what you want.”