“Take it off,” he orders.

Pushing the straps from my shoulders, the dress falls to my feet and I step out of it, bending down to pick it up.

“Leave it,” he orders, picking the dress up and throwing it into the corner.

“That’s a thousand-dollar dress,” I gasp.

“Forget the dress. Pick something to wear.”

“If I have to go to this party, I’d rather wear my own clothes.”

“All you own is denim shorts and athletic wear,” he says derisively. “Pick something appropriate.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my clothes,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

“When you don’t want male attention, I completely agree. But you’re mine and I just got you back, I want the entire school to see you and know who you belong to. So either pick something, or you can try on everything in here until I find something I like.”

Narrowing my eyes, I glare at him, but instead of backing down he just smiles. Shaking my head I step forward and start to root through the clothes, finding a pair of ripped jeans and pulling them on. They’re so tight they might as well be painted on, but they give me the illusion of curves that I can’t help admiring in the floor-length mirror. Spotting a pretty satin bralette in a deep-burgundy-red color, I free it from the hanger and pull it over my head, positioning it to cover my modest tits. I slide my feet into black leather pumps that I don’t need to see the red sole to know are absurdly expensive and likely impossible to walk in.

“Fuck, little bird, I wanted to show you off, but now I’m not sure I want to share you,” he rasps, moving behind me and wrapping his arm around my waist, his face appearing in the reflection of the mirror.

Fisting my hair, he drags it to one side and presses a kiss to the back of my neck. He softly nuzzles for a moment until his teeth clamp down and pain shoots through me as he marks me the same way he did when we were in high school.

“Sebastian,” I cry, fighting to free myself when his arm bands around my waist, keeping me in place as he brands my skin.

“Perfect,” he whispers when he finally releases me, admiring his work. “Put your hair up, I want to be able to see my mark on you.”

Thirty minutes later, Sebastian half guides me, half drags me through the gates and into a waiting golf cart. I’m not sure where they were being kept but apparently, they belong to the house. Hunter, Evan and Clay keep eyeing me warily, but I have no interest in speaking to them, so I keep my gaze fixed on the passing trees and pointedly ignore all of their attempts to bring me into their conversation.

The sound of the party hits us ten minutes before we actually reach the woods where it’s being held. Instead of having to hike down the path, Hunter drives the cart to the edge of the crowd and parks in a spot that almost seems to have been kept vacant just for them. Sebastian halts me when I try to climb out. “You’re with one of us at all times, you don’t take drinks from anyone else.”