Page 58 of Boys Who Hunt

“No thanks.”

“You obviously need it.”

“I’m fine,” I grit.

His eyes narrow, and he looks amused by my effort to keep my shit together. “Are you?”

I swallow back the lump in my throat. “What do you want from me?”

His brow rises, and he puts down the blunt. “Did you forget your fucking debt to me?”

He fishes a knife from his pocket, while his eyes nearly bore a hole into my head.

“I didn’t,” I say. “But you never told me why I had to be here at eight o’clock.”

THWACK!

The pointy end of the knife lands right between my feet.

He eyes something lying on the table in front of him—a black-and-white outfit with ruffled shoulders and a skirt that’s way too short for anyone, let alone me.

“Put that on.”

“What? That thing is way too short for me. No.”

He narrows his eyes. “You think that knife is the only one I have?” He flashes three more just from one of the other pockets in his cargo pants. “Put. It. On.”

Fuck him. He only wants to degrade me. What’s he going to do? Put me in ridiculous outfits and parade me around in front of his friends like some sort of toy he won?

But if I don’t agree … he’ll definitely make me.

Your debt isn’t nearly paid …

I can still hear the words singed into my head.

He won’t stop until he’s satisfied, and I’ve agreed.

Fuck.

I snatch the outfit off the table, judging it, and slowly but surely, my jaw drops. It’s a goddamn maid outfit you’d find at a kink shop.

“What’s this for?”

“You got fired from your job, right?” He smirks and picks up his glass of Coke, taking a sip. “You can earn back the money you took right here in this house.”

I snort. “As yourmaid?”

He puts the glass down. “You have a problem with that?”

My nostrils flare.

Is this a joke?

The chill in the air definitely tells me enough. “You’re insane. I’m not going to—”

“You will,” he interjects, those piercing green eyes staring me down. “Or do you want me to remind you of the deal you made with me?”

Fuck that asshole. I was right; he does want to make me feel like less than.