WIP: The Manipulation of Satine – a sneak peek
| satineThought you might like a little sneak peek at my WIP for part 2 of the Satine series. I’m not sure yet when this story will get released, but I’m pretty sure these words should survive the final edit and make it to launch.
“Are you serious?”
He studied my face. “Is something the matter?”
“No, I just … You mean we’re just going to do it? Just like that?”
“Do what?”
“Fuck. We’re going to fuck now, right?” Why did I say it like that? Of course we’re not just going to fuck. This is my so-called rehab, not a summer fling. I just needed to feel like I had some control over the situation. And of the thousand possible things I could have said, that was what came out first.
I felt naked all of a sudden, small and embarrassed. I rolled the ice, awkwardly, in my hand, wondering what Warden Jet might do with it, what he might do to me in here, which parts of my body he might torture with cold, wet things, and whether he had other devices stashed in that marble counter. I hated it, feared it, feared the lack of control—and something about that thrilled me.
“Not necessarily.” Warden Jet gestured in front of the wall-mounted tablet. A soothing chime came from nowhere, perhaps behind the lights in the walls. “But we will certainly talk. I’m sure you have questions about what you’ve seen so far.”
I stood up and immediately fell back in pain. I landed stiffly on the bed, unsure of what just happened. The ice lay cracked in two on the floor. I looked from it to Warden Jet.
“Impulse restraints,” he explained. “We’ll have no sudden movements in this session, Satine.”
I glared at him, as if that would do anything. “I’m not some animal. And I noticed you didn’t ask for my consent first.”
“And I noticed you burnt your hand on a knife you were asked to leave behind. This is for your safety as much as mine.” He picked up a hemisphere of ice, a smirk playing on his lips.
No, not a smirk. It was … something else. One of those sympathetic pursing of the lips, the kind people look at you with when they feel sorry for you. That was so much worse. How dare he feel sorry for me like I was beneath him? My hand smarted and I realised I’d curled it into a fist.
So, I curled it harder, pain be damned. “I want to go home.”
Warden Jet nodded. “We can arrange a transport for you at the end of your stay, if you wish. But tell me, Satine, where is home?”
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