Savannah's POV
"Wrong. I never marked Jonathan."
"Damn."
"You lost."
"How the hell did you never mark your husband in all those years?"
"We had an arranged marriage. Even our intimate moments were just obligation."
"Really? You never felt your instincts take over?"
My skull pounded mercilessly. The potent scent of aged whiskey was finally affecting me too.
That marked thirty minutes since we started this twisted game. Dennis had been running his mouth the entire time.
His eyes blazed red from the alcohol, his words slurring together. The polished facade he usually wore had cracked, revealing the raw frustration beneath.
His grin flickered between genuine amusement and barely contained rage. But one emotion cut through everything else like a blade.
Suspicion.
"There wasn't much to control. Our physical relationship was purely mechanical. Neither of us particularly enjoyed it."
