Page 95 of A Dance Macabre

Her gaze sweeps the rooms we walk past, furtive glances here and there. She’s visited the Tower before, but never my private quarters. Finally, we enter the Hall of Mirrors.

The hall is full of candles. I had my servants light them before we arrived, the countless flames flickering and bouncing from one reflecting glass to the other, while still leaving some corners cast in shadows.

“A room full of mirrors,” Mercy muses softly, “I should have known.”

I smile. “It’s my favorite place to play the violin,” I answer while I pick up a black box from the bench where my instrument is kept. I had my assistant leave it here for me earlier today just for this.

Mercy, still donned in glorious red, turns to meet my gaze.

“Don’t you miss it?” she asks with genuine concern.

Warmth spills across my chest and I nod. “I do … sometimes.” My steps echo as I approach her. “I’ve had more pressing matters on my mind as of late — here,” I say, offering her the box.

At first, she stays poised, fingers clasped near her waist, looking down at it. “What is it?” Her eyes lift up, watching me through her long eyelashes.

“A gift,” I answer plainly, giving the box a small rattle signaling her to take it.

“But—”

“Just open it.”

She bites her bottom lip but finally takes it. Carefully removing the lid, her face falls when she peers inside.

I chuckle darkly at her expression, feeling quite smug.

“If you don’t want to waste both of our time, I suggest you don’t protest and put it on,” I say with a wide arrogant grin.

Her eyes narrow in defiance. “Why?”

I casually shrug as if there’s anythingcasualabout this. “Since you won’t use your words—” I puff out a small chuckle. “I’m offering you a way to make it up to me.”

Her stony face shouldn’t look so adorable while a storm brews behind her eyes. “And the other item?”

I fall serious. “To give me full control, my ruin, is to trust me.”

She stays silent as if deliberating her options, her throat working around a hard swallow.

Then, without saying a word, she turns around, and my heart sinks thinking she’s about to walk away from me. Instead, she doesn’t move, and giddiness bubbles up through my body and limbs when I realize she’s waiting for me.

I begin to unpin her hair, letting her long black strands cascade down her back and shoulders. When I’m done, I circle to face her and pick the first item from the box that Mercy is stillclutching to her chest. My heart is slamming against my ribcage, the implications of what I’m holding in my hands sending me down into the very depths of my carnal need for Mercy.

“Open your mouth,” I order.

She hesitates, her gaze darkening.

But finally, her mouth falls open.

Carefully, I place the ball gag between her teeth, two gold chains attaching it to leather straps, clasping them tightly at the base of her neck.

I can’t help the lecherous grin forming on my lips when I step back to look at Mercy. Her mouth is wide around the silicone ball, the chains digging slightly into her cheeks. A satisfied shiver skates down my spine.

My grin widens, and she huffs loudly through her nose. Ignoring her miffed complaints, I take the box out of her hands and place it on the floor next to us.

I snap my fingers as I straighten back up. “Gloves off.”

She rolls her eyes but does as I say, petulantly pulling them off with a dainty index finger and thumb before dropping them at her feet. My grin is now glued to my face and, with a teasing lift of the eyebrow, I signal her to spin back around with a twirl of my finger.

When she’s facing away, I delicately sweep her hair off her shoulder and press a lingering kiss to her nape near the leather strap while I tug on the zipper of her dress, slowly revealing the Crèvecoeur sigil tattoo. When the dress gathers at her feet, she steps out, now standing in only a thong and her black stilettos.

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