Chapter 23

S he ran through the halls as if she were being chased, the sound of the whip and Lissa's cries echoing in her mind. The heat that had flooded her body when she was with Cole had vanished and, in its place, grew a gnawing, cold emptiness. She disgusted herself, revolted with the feelings he had engendered within her so easily, even as someone else was being hurt in front of her.

Her fingers shot up to the collar around her neck, and she plucked at it fruitlessly, eventually slowing to a walk so that she could release the catch. She held it in her hand for a moment. It was all leather now, with no hint of the gold and diamond necklace it had once been. She chucked it into a pot of roses standing in a little alcove. She wouldn't wear that thing ever again.

With its removal, her mind felt clearer, her purpose solidified. She had to get out of there. She didn't want Cole to make her fae. Perhaps if she just stayed out of sight, she'd be out of mind. The tournament was drawing close. That might be enough to keep him occupied.

She broke into a trot again, down one corridor and then another, not sure where she was or where she should go. Eventually, she stopped, heart pounding, and leaned against the wall. Who was she kidding? There was nowhere she could go where he wouldn't find her. This was his world, and he was all powerful in it. She had no allies and no way out. All she could do was play along, keep on his good side. Not that he'd ever tried to hurt her. He'd always been kind and considerate. But then, Lissa was his lover and teammate. She was worth more to him than Ember was, and yet he'd just had her whipped, as though she meant nothing. And if he could behave that way to Lissa, what did that mean for her?

She whispered for a guide and when the little light came, she followed it through the warren of halls back to her room. Little Rufus greeted her with endearing yelps and much wagging, and she hugged him close, hoping the warmth of his body might chase away the chill that seemed to have settled into her bones. Seeing how upset she was, Lily begged to help, and as an act of rebellion, Ember asked her for a pair of jeans and tee shirt to wear, instead of "all this frilly stuff." Lily frowned at that but went into the bathroom to turn on the taps, while Ember stripped, keen to do nothing more than wash the disturbing day off her and climb between crisp cool sheets.

The water was refreshing, and she washed her hair and brushed her teeth before dousing herself with her favourite scent. Lily had left a robe for her, and she tied it around her, wrapped a towel around her head, and walked into her room, halting abruptly when she saw Cole standing by the window. Lily and the puppy were nowhere in sight. A new wooden chest studded with silver stood in the corner, carved with elegant images of people and fae intertwined in an eternal embrace.

"Do you like your room?" he said conversationally, looking out at the view. "I thought you might like a view of the gardens."

"It's lovely," she said. She didn't know what to do, but thought she might try to act naturally, and so she tugged the towel from her head and moved to the dressing table for her brush. She dragged it through her hair mechanically, unable to look at him. He had appeared casual enough, but underneath, Ember sensed an energy that he was keeping in check, something dangerous.

"It's too light," he said, and the room darkened, candles springing into flame. The scent of spicy musk seeped into the room, cloying and seductive. His voice took on a lilting tone. "The banishment of light brings forth greater mysteries, don't you think? Secrets and shadows, a cloak of enchantment …"

"How is Lissa?" she asked when his voice trailed off. She was trying for lightness, but her voice wobbled, and she bit her lip.

"She's learned her lesson."

He crossed the room in a few strides, and she backed up. He stopped short, as if aware he had scared her, and looked at her intently, his expression serious. "She could have killed you. I would have thought you'd be happy that I punished her."

"You didn't have to hurt her."

"No," he agreed, and there came something feral in his eyes. "But sometimes, we can only learn lessons through physical chastisement. My people will do what they want, and so I will do as I must." He held up his hands, palms facing in an act of supplication. "But for your sake, my darling, I shall not do it again."

She glanced up at him, her heart breaking a little with the words, ‘my darling'.

"Do you mean it?"

He shrugged. "I said so, didn't I?"

He held out his hands to her, and she moved forward to him. She didn't show any hesitancy. She was aware she had to play along for the sake of her own survival. He could banish her to a dungeon if he wanted to, he could have her beaten, he could reduce her to a lump of charred smoking meat. She was afraid, but she was even more afraid to show him her fear. And so, she smiled and took his hands and allowed him to draw her into his arms.

He brushed his lips across her forehead, and then held out something to her, a gold and diamond necklace with a shadow of black leather beneath. "You took it off."

"I …" she didn't know what to say. The sight of it made her feel cold all over again. If she said it fell off, would he know she was lying? "It felt too tight. And I was cross."

He stroked a link, and it divided into two, making the necklace a little longer. "Will you wear it for me now?"

What could she say? "Of course."

He kissed her on the lips, and a warm glow rapidly replaced the chill. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, and he kissed her properly, his hands sliding down her back to grasp her buttocks, pulling her closer. The intoxicating scent of spice intensified, making her head swim. She melted against him, kissing him back with increasing abandon. He broke the kiss, and while she struggled to regain her senses, put the necklace around her throat and fastened it. It felt right. She touched it, liking the way it settled across her collarbone, cooling against her heated skin.

"Now, Ember," he said, and tugged at the tie fastening her robe, drawing one shoulder of her robe to the side, and then the other. It slipped off and puddled on the floor, leaving her standing naked in front of him. "We have to talk about something."

"What?" she said. She didn't want to talk. She wanted him to touch her. All she could think about was his hands, his mouth, and his…

He crossed over to the chest and flicked open the catch. The lid flew open. She craned to see, but it was too dark to discern anything inside. He reached in and brought out two long ribbons, glistening smooth as silk in the dim light.

"Lessons must be learned."

Her mouth sagged, and she took a step back. "What's that?"

He moved to her, looping a ribbon around first one wrist, and then the other. She tried to pull away, but he crooked a finger, and the ribbons came to life, tugging her to the bed, as if she were a dog on a leash.

"Lie down."

She demurred, shaking her head, and he slid a hand behind her head, into her mass of wet hair and pulled it. Hard. "Lie down."

Without a word, she sat on the edge of the bed, drawing her legs up beside her. Her scalp was tingling with pain, but already her nipples were hard and aching, a familiar molten excitement building deep inside. The arousal he had forced from her earlier washed over her again, and she was both eager and apprehensive. There was no tenderness in his mood. His expression was like granite, his thick cock firmly outlined against the silk of his pants.

He dragged her up the bed, forcing her onto her belly, and the ribbons tied themselves to the posts of the bed. She tugged against them, but the ribbons resisted, the knots drawing ever tighter. He strolled to the chest, retrieving two more.

"Spread your legs."

She did so, wondering if he could see the glistening wanting between her folds. The ribbons rippled through the air, swooping down to lash her ankles to the bottom posts of the bed.

His gaze made her feel exposed, embarrassed. "Cole," she began, and then his broad hand connected with her bottom.

The sting from the sharp smack came a second after the crack of sound reverberated throughout the room, and she sucked in an outraged breath, and reared up, pulling against the silk ribbons.

"Be quiet. Lie still."

He struck her again and again. She wriggled and squirmed, trying to escape his hand, but it was impossible. Her buttocks felt as though they were on fire. His hand came down again, a stinging slap, even more forceful than the rest, and she cried out.

"I told you to be quiet."

She felt him move away, and turning her head, watched him walk to the chest and dip inside. Another ribbon, this one thick and short, came to her, whipping itself around her face, covering her mouth and tying at the back of her head, smothering all sound.

When he drew out a short-handled whip with tasselled ends, a wave of fear came over her and she yanked at the ribbons, desperate to free herself.

"Your skin glows red, like a cherry," he observed, tapping the whip against his thigh. He sank onto the bed, and she flinched, but he merely smoothed his hand against her bruised flesh, leaning down to kiss first one cheek and the other. "It feels hot." He moved further down and then his hands were spreading her swollen labia, his tongue darting inside.

The pain immediately turned to pleasure, and she moaned, trying to spread her legs wider, her hips rising from the bed. He licked and suckled on her clit and then he spread her buttocks and lapped at her puckered hole, eliciting gasps and moans.

It was while she was still in a fever of arousal that he wielded the whip. If his hand had been hurtful, it was nothing compared to the sting of leather. She squealed as he whipped methodically and slowly, covering her arse and upper thighs with stroke after stroke, never in the same place twice, always keeping her guessing. And just when she thought she would scream with the agony of it, he would lick her and suckle her until she writhed in ecstasy. Her desire rose higher and higher, and just as she was at the peak, as she threatened to tip over the edge, he whipped her again.

It wasn't long before the cut of the leather tassels began to evoke new sensations, a twisted gratification, a maelstrom of dark sensuality. Mist coalesced around them, Cole's arousal a tangible force, as his arm came down, again and again, before his mouth was on her, teasing, tasting, followed by the cut of the lash. He was panting with it, his clothes gone, the length of his cock glistening at the head. Finally, he threw the whip aside and settled on his knees between her legs. She was sobbing, face damp with tears, throbbing with pain and incomplete desire. The ribbons loosened enough for him to pull her hips up, and a pillow slid underneath, giving her support.

When he finally slammed into her, she arched her back, submitting to every thrust, crying out his name. He fisted one hand in her hair, pulling her head back until she thought her spine might crack, and the other slipped around to squeeze her breast, cruelly pinching her nipple. She came and again, sparks exploding behind closed lids, and when he joined her, she collapsed.

The ribbons slid away, leaving her free, but helpless, overcome with gratified languor.

His voice was gentle, the words sounding as if they were coming from very far away.

"Who do you belong to?"

"You." Her answer was a breath, a sigh.

"Where do you live?"

"Here."

"Where did you come from?"

Th answer was hesitant. "I … don't remember."

"Good."

She lay, her eyes closed, utterly drained. She didn't even have the energy to raise her head. The collar lay against her skin, warm and comforting, and she slept.