“Oh, but I want to.” I lean up on my toes, snaring his lip between my teeth before I bite and taste the copper of his blood. “Come out and play, beast. Show me your worst.”

He drops my hand, his palm whipping toward me to wrap around my throat, collaring me. “Is this what you want?” He rumbles in my ear, his voice a mixture of sensual and sinister.

“Yes,” I wheeze. “Fuck me like you fuck your courtesans. Show me what you like.”

A low growl reverberates from his throat as his eyes flash. “That’s what you want?”

“Yes,” I say, less certain this time.

“Careful what you wish for.” He drags a thumb over my lips in what feels like a possessive way, but then all too soon, his demons summon him back to them. “Take off your clothes and get on your fucking knees.”

There’s a moment of hesitation on my part, and he sees it. He relishes it. Because he wants to win. He wants to scare me and prove his point. I want to challenge him and prove mine. But only one of us is drunk right now, and there’s an uncertainty in me about how far each of us will go to win the war.

Still, I started this battle, and I refuse to back down. So with trembling fingers, I pull off my clothes and toss them onto the overturned table. Judge stares at me, cold and appraising before he steps forward. Without warning, he slaps my breast hard, and I hold back a yelp.

“I told you to get on your fucking knees.”

Biting back the retort on my tongue, I force myself to remember this is a game. And I’m determined it’s a game he’s going to lose.

I lower myself to my knees, the cold stone rough against my flesh. Judge circles around me, stroking my hair and then my face. Against my will, my eyes seem to flutter shut, soaking up that moment of affection that’s so rare from him. But all too soon, he snatches it away with a harsh command.

“Is this how you greet a Sovereign Son?”

His unspoken request rattles me. I know what he wants. What he expects. This is our world, and even if I am a Society daughter, he will always rank higher. Always be more. It takes everything inside me to bow forward in the way I was taught. I’ve never done this for anyone, but I’ve seen it done at weddings. I’ve seen the way wives kneel at their husband’s feet, showing their respect to the gods who walk among us.

“Dominus et Deus,” I whisper.

Judge’s gaze burns into the top of my head, and I know by the long silence, he’s not going to let me half-ass this.

“Is that all the respect you have to give me?”