And she’d survive whatever torment he gave.
Lifting up the loose skirt of the yellow dress that was far too cheerful for a place such as this, she hooked her thumbs into the elastic waistband of the nylons. Ignoring where they had clung too tight and left a red, angry mark across the flesh of her hips, she slipped them down, the fabric releasing its tight hold as it bunched over her thighs, her knees, and eventually settled loosely at her ankles. Stepping out of them, she kicked her feet free of the material that still carried the warmth of her body.
Max’ eyes followed every movement she made, his liquid gaze tracing hot tracks along the length of her legs, silently watching as the stockings went from taut across her skin, to loose and folded at her ankles.
His expression was a blank mask, but the heat behind his stare was sweltering, the small breeze kicked up by the air conditioning system no match against the assault of his illicit inferno. Alice didn’t need to ask him what he was thinking, she knew, and the knowledge was a weighted blade against her senses, a razor sharp realization that shredded everything brave within her to tattered, forgotten rags.
Although his eyes were still the color of dangerous arctic ice, his stare had become anything but cold.
When Alice hesitated, her dignity and modesty preventing her from unbuttoning the dress to pull it from her body, a questioning arch to Max’ dark brow broke through the impenetrable mask he’d worn.
Their eyes locked, the intensity of the give and take between them so lurid that Alice felt tingles across her skin, goosebumps of fear erupting over the surface of her entire body. She knew he’d rip the clothes away, or not bother with them at all. From what she’d already seen, he hadn’t needed to strip her sister down in order to take everything she had to give.
With nimble fingers, she unfastened the buttons down the back collar of her dress, the position pushing out her chest, her breasts tight across the cloth that was the only thing keeping her body from his view. Once the buttons were unclasped, she dropped her arms to her sides, matching his stare with a question that broke through the surface of her terror.
“What happens if I don’t get undressed?”
He angled his head in that way that was all his own, his lips betraying his thoughts when they curled at the corners. You already know the answer, he was saying, you already understand the pain I can inflict for any small spark of rebellion.
Daring to give him a smile, she said, “You’re not much of a talker, are you?” It was stupid to say, but she needed some relief from the suffocating silence, from the blanket of hatred and rage that sat heavy across her shoulders.
He didn’t react.
She hadn’t expected him to.
Another breath to steady herself, and she slipped the dress from her shoulders, allowing it to slide along her body until it puddled around her feet on the floor. He hadn’t provided her a bra when he’d given her the clothes to wear earlier that day, and despite the lacy underwear that held tight around her hips, she felt completely exposed to his roaming eyes, to the blatant lust that radiated from him at the sight of her breasts now bared to him.
She wasn’t sure if it was her fear or the chill in the air that caused her nipples to form tight, painful peaks.
A shudder ran over Max’ body. Slight, but still noticeable, it was the first outward sign beyond his mysterious gaze that gave away anything of what he was feeling.
Forcing her arms to her sides, she felt hot, salty tears burning at the rim of her eyes, her nakedness another facet of her submission because she hadn’t attempted to fight. What happened now was completely in his power. She wasn’t allowed to say no, wasn’t allowed to refuse this stranger whatever he decided to take from her.
Give and take.
Take and give.
It wasn’t a mutual agreement. And it wasn’t a reciprocal exchange.
She gave.
He took.
There was no other arrangement to be made.
Her body turned to pluck the nightgown from the bed, and with her eyes averted, she felt the heat of his body wash against her back before a large hand fell on her shoulder. No sooner had she gripped her hand over the soft, white cloth than it was ripped from her grasp, tossed to the ground to lie in a puddle on the floor.
The tears that burned her eyes finally slipped down her cheeks and she craned her neck to look up at him, her soul seared and tattooed with dread by the intensity of his stare.
A slight shake of his head was all he gave her before her body was shoved down against the mattress, her weight sinking down heavily into the soft luxury of the blankets, while Max stood at the foot of the bed.
This was it, then. The moment she knew would come. The moment he’d prove his supreme dominance over the woman he’d taken as his.
“Until death, Alice.”