Make Me Burn: Fireborne, Book 2 by RG Alexander Page B

Brandon—and Ram was the exiled Qarin who’d ignored her the last time she went to Underbridge to see him. Instead of talking to her, he’d played a scene onstage where he “granted wishes” with paddles and a cat-o’-nine-tails to multiple women as she watched.
    Was that the kind of play he was talking about? Whips?
    Aziza shivered and pressed her thighs together. She’d thought then that watching him was her penance. Her own personal torture. And Ram had taken that opportunity to show her what she was missing. To remind her that she had her own needs that weren’t being satisfied.
    But they were . She was satisfied. Okay, so maybe she hadn’t arranged a scene since she’d been with Brandon—until tonight. And maybe she hadn’t dressed in her favorite schoolgirl outfit, the one that, when combined with her youthful Stewart appearance, had driven her past play partners wild.
    The one Ram had forbidden her from wearing for their scene.
    She’d missed the adrenaline of playing at a club, but that was all. Brandon was more than willing to fulfill her needsat home. Dominant enough to drive her wild with desire for him. She might be mad at him, but she wasn’t lacking in that department. She didn’t need anything else. Anyone else.
    You don’t want to need more. But you do. You also need answers.
    Fuck, she was crazy to do this. She could have chosen someone else. A human. A woman. Someone that Brandon wouldn’t kill if he found out they’d touched her.
    But Ram was as much a link between the victims as Underbridge was. He had to be the one who played her.
    Ram will give you what you really need. He knows you, knows a Fireborne craves experience. He would share you.
    She closed her eyes and shook her head. She was going to find answers and stop the Jiniyr. It had nothing to do with Ram. Nothing to do with sex.
    Liar.
    She didn’t need her abilities to know that he wouldn’t hold back tonight. That he would punish her for making him wait. He’d told her as much. And the ways he could punish her were suddenly all she could think about. How he would make her pay for putting him off. For pretending that nothing had happened between them. For choosing someone else over him.
    He would share her if she wanted him to.
    The fantasy began to form in her mind before she could stop it, and she slid her hand down her wet stomach and between her thighs in search of relief.
    In her mind she was on the main stage at Underbridge, and the dance floor was crowded with people watching with hushed anticipation. A single desk from the Classroom, one of the playrooms at the club, shone in the spotlight.
    Ram stood beside it, waiting for her. He was in charge here. He made the rules. He crooked a finger at her and then pointed to the floor in front of the desk. Aziza didn’t hesitate to obey. She knew what was coming. Even when he turned her to face the desk without a word and pressed his palm against her back until she was forced to bend over, she knew. And she wanted it.
    “You’ve been a bad girl, Aziza,” Ram intoned. “Bad enough to wear this outfit when I told you not to. Bad enough that I’ve kept you after class to teach you a different kind of lesson.”
    Aziza trembled. “What kind of lesson?”
    She could hear the smile in Ram’s voice. “You’ll see. Now lift up your skirt for me.” When she did, he gave an exaggerated gasp of surprise from behind her. “No panties, Miss Stewart? You are begging to be punished, aren’t you? This lesson might take longer than I thought.”
    “I didn’t know—”
    “Didn’t know you’d be caught?” He placed both hands on her ass, his touch so light she could barely feel it. “Didn’t know I’d see what you’ve done?”
    She nodded, her hair spread across the desk, hiding her heated face from view, and Ram chuckled. “Little liar. You can’t keep secrets from me, sweet Aziza. I always know. I’ve seen the way you look at me in class. The way you tighten your legs