The Flame Game
Chapter 5: The Flame Game
Ameena sat in front of the mirror, her reflection unfamiliar.
The woman staring back wore soft rouge on her cheeks, a touch of wine-colored gloss on her lips. Her collarbone was bare, the silk slip clinging to her curves like a second skin. The mark below her hip—a branded crescent “V”—peeked out when she shifted, an unwanted signature of ownership.
A doll. A prize. A warning.
But behind the painted eyes… a fire burned.
The guard who’d whispered to her last night was gone.
Replaced by silence. Surveillance.
Still, Ameena was learning. Every corridor had a rhythm. The lights blinked in sync with scheduled observations. The guards changed every six hours. The food arrived too warm or too cold depending on who brought it—small clues, barely worth noting, unless you were looking to escape.
She was always looking.
That night, Voss summoned her again.
No collar this time. No restraints. Just an open door and a command: “Come.”
She entered the room on her own two feet.
He stood at the window, staring into the electric darkness of the city. A sprawl of lights wrapped in silence. The world below had no voice. Only rules.
“You wore the dress,” he said without turning.
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“You had one. You chose to live.”
She moved to the chair without being told. Crossed one leg over the other, slow and deliberate. Her bare foot swayed just enough to draw attention to her thigh. His eyes flicked toward it—and back to her face.
Good.
“Why me?” she asked.
Voss turned toward her fully. “You want the answer women always ask… or the one that matters?”
“I want the truth.”
He poured himself a drink. Amber liquid. No label.
“You weren’t chosen because you’re beautiful. Though you are. Or because you resisted. Though that helps. You were chosen because…” He stepped closer, gaze steady. “I saw you on surveillance footage, the night you ran through the riot barricade. You weren’t afraid. You weren’t broken. You were angry.”
He knelt beside her chair, set the glass down, and slid two fingers along her ankle. Slowly. Possessively.
“I collect anger,” he whispered. “It’s more interesting than obedience.”
“You won’t tame mine,” she said, pulse racing despite her control.
“Maybe not.” He leaned in. “But I’ll taste it.”
And then—he kissed her ankle.
Slow. Barely there. Like claiming a throne no one could see.
Ameena’s spine stiffened. Her body reacted—but not from pleasure. From the terror of control. The thrill of proximity to a man who could kill her and call it justice.
She forced her voice to stay steady.
“If this is your version of seduction, I’m underwhelmed.”
He looked up, amused. “You mistake this for seduction. It’s a test. Every time you flinch, I learn you. Every time you don’t… I want more.”
She leaned forward, letting her slip fall slightly off one shoulder.
Then she smiled—sweet, venomous.
“Careful, Commander. The fire you feed might burn your palace down.”
Voss’s eyes darkened.
He rose, close now, the heat of his body a furnace against her skin.
Then he whispered into her ear: “Then burn, my queen.”
Something shifted in the room. Not surrender. Not dominance. Something hungrier. More dangerous.
He wants her fire. She’ll give him an inferno.