EMMA
I had barely caught my breath when the doors slammed shut behind me, locking me in with my nightmares in human form.
The room was massive. Every corner oozed wealth and arrogance: velvet drapes, obsidian floors, and shelves of leather-bound books no one probably read.
My eyes darted to the bed in the centre of the room like a throne, wide enough to fit all three brothers and their entertainment for the night.
The lingering scent of Vera's cloying perfume clung to the air, twinning with the stench of cigar and something musky.
I stumbled forward, legs weak, my breathing ragged. The heat pulsed fiercely and hot through my body. I pressed my thighs together, willing the ache away.
I would not beg, not when every nerve in me screamed for contact.
The door slammed open. I stiffened, my fingers involuntarily curling against the hem of my dress. They walked in as one—their suits were still crisp from the ceremony, dark and sharp like the looks they shot me.
