Page 107 of Cruel Deception
The chains were cold. Heavy. They clinked with every breath I took. He locked them around my ankles like he was shackling an animal, not a woman he once kissed with something that almost felt like reverence.
Almost.
Cassian crouched, his face inches from mine. That cedar-and-leather scent—sharp, masculine, invasive—filled my lungs like poison I couldn’t stop breathing.
“You thought you could kill me,” he says, his voice low, a dangerous caress that sends shivers down my spine. “You’ll learn what it means to be mine, Charlotte. Not a wife, but a slave, to break as I see fit.”
My throat tightens, tears prickling my eyes, but I force myself to meet his gaze, defiance flickering through my fear. “I said it was a mistake,” I whisper, my voice trembling but steady. “I just wanted answers about my mother.”
He smirks, dark and predatory, standing to tower over me. “Answers? You’ll get pain instead.” His tone is laced with a sensual menace, promising torment that’s as intimate as it is cruel. “Strip,” he commands, his voice a velvet blade, cutting through my resolve.
I freeze, my heart lurching. “What?” My voice is a whisper, my body stiff, the chains clinking as I shift.
“Strip,” he repeats, slower, his eyes glinting with sadistic intent. “Show me what you’re hiding, slave.”
I hesitate, my chest tight, memories of his blindfolded gentleness during our first time clashing with this cruel demand. “Cassian—Master,” I correct, my voice breaking, “please, don’t.”
He steps closer, his boots inches from my chained feet, his presence overwhelming. “You don’t get to beg yet,” he says, his voice low, dripping with dark promise. “You wanted to play with monsters, Charlotte. Now you’ll face one.”
Tears spill, but I force myself to obey, my hands shaking as I peel off my tank top, revealing the padded bra hiding my scars.
My skin prickles under his gaze, vulnerable, exposed.
I unhook the bra, letting it fall, my chest bare, the jagged scars from my surgery stark against my skin. I brace for his reaction, my heart racing, shame and fear coiling in my gut.
He tilts his head, his eyes raking over my chest, a cruel smile curling his lips. “Look at you,” he says, his voice mocking, sensual, a twisted caress. “Flat as a boy, scarred like a battlefield.You think you’re a woman? You look like a man trying to play one.” His words cut deep, each one a dagger to my already fragile confidence, my scars a wound he’s tearing open.
“I blindfolded myself so you could feel safe. Now I want you to feel everything. Every stare. Every bruise. Every scream.”
I flinch, my face burning, tears streaming, but I bite back a sob, refusing to break completely. “You didn’t say that the first time you had me,” I snapped, my voice shaking, defiance flaring despite my fear. “You wanted me then, scars and all.”
His smile fades, his eyes darkening, a flicker of something—anger, desire?—crossing his face. “Oh, I wanted you,” he says, stepping closer, his voice a low growl, rich with dark heat. “And I’ll have you now, slave, in ways you’ll beg to forget.”
He grabs my chin, forcing my face up, his touch firm but not brutal, his thumb brushing my trembling lips. “You’ll feel every ounce of my punishment, and you’ll crave it.”
My breath hitches, fear and a traitorous heat warring in my body, his touch igniting memories of our night together, even as his words terrify me.
He releases my chin, stepping back.
He moved to the small drawer behind him, pulling something out. I couldn’t see it at first. Not until he turned.
A black velvet pouch.
He opened it slowly—methodically—revealing a thin, silver chain with barbed metal beads attached. Not sharp enough to slice, but enough to sting.
My chest heaved. “W-What is that?”
“A collar,” he said simply. “With teeth.”
I started to shake. “Cassian, please—”
“Master,” he corrected. “You lost the right to speak my name the moment you pulled that trigger.”
He stepped behind me and fastened it around my neck. The moment the metal touched skin, I winced. The beads weren’trazor-sharp, but they dug in with every breath—a constant sting, like guilt pressed into my skin.
“When I pull this chain,” he said, brushing my hair aside, “you’ll come.”
I bit my lip hard to stifle a sob.
