Page 47 of Going to Hell
“Yes,” he breathed. “Surrender my treasure to me.”
Instead of pocketing the key like I’d expected, he set the cool end of it against my skin just above the neckline of my dress. My pulse started to race, and he dragged it along the material that kissed the top of my breast. When he hit my cleavage, the beat of my heart thundered in my ears, but not so loud that I couldn’t hear the pained sound he made.
“You torment me,” he said in a rough voice. “So be it.”
Slowly, he tucked the key between my breasts and trailed his fingers over the material. My nipples pebbled underneath the protective band. I didn’t move, too afraid that he would take it as an indication of my surrender to what he wanted.
Instead, I stared at his bloody, scabbed wrists.
After a moment, he let his hands fall to his sides.
“Do with me as you will,” he said again. Only this time, the words were laced with resignation. “You have all that you require.”
He gestured to the room behind me, and I nervously glanced back.
The bed and pretty things were gone, which would have been a relief if not for what had replaced them.
Racks with ancient looking scissors, blades, spears, and many other things I couldn’t name lined one side of the room. More fear spiked through me at the sight, and I struggled to understand why in the hell he thought I required any of that. Then I saw the long wooden table in the center of the room.
Shackles just like the ones I’d freed him from were mounted to the surface.
I turned back to him, and kept my eyes on his chest for a heartbeat before giving in and risking a look at his face.
He studied me with a mixture of hate and yearning.
I frowned at him, and he frowned back.
Did he think I’d freed him so I could torture him?
“Everything is as you prefer,” he said harshly. “I know what you like. I did not fail in this.”
If I had a voice, I would have told him my preference in room décor veered toward soothing blues and fluffy pillows, not torture devices. However, I didn’t and knew better than to try to communicate that without words since he was too easily provoked.
He’d obviously misunderstood my first attempt at kindness.
Focus on his wrists, Ashlyn,I told myself even as I questioned the wisdom of trying again. My gut said I should, even as I worried I would make myself look weak like the prey I didn’t want to be.
Silently sighing, I turned away from him and made my way to the knives. His feet rasped against the stone in my wake, and I knew he followed. He snarled when I reached for a knife, then a chain rattled.
Confused more than worried, I glanced over my shoulder and saw him lying on the wooden table. He’d bumped a cuff but, thankfully, wasn’t trying to put it on. Returning my attention to the table before me, I selected a knife and unwound a portion of the cloth binding my boobs. Hacking it free, I tucked the end back in then hacked what I had into two long strips.
When I faced C’adon, he watched me with an intensity that curled around my middle and made it difficult to breathe. His expression continued to flicker between anger and lust.
“I hate your games. No, I love them.”
His gaze dipped to my hands, and confusion furrowed his brows at the sight of the bandages. But he held still while I gently wrapped his first wrist. I knew it probably wouldn’t make much difference. The dead couldn’t die a second time from an infection. But they could suffer, based on what I’d seen. And C’adon seemed to have suffered plenty already.
After tucking in the end, I set his hand on his chest and reached for the other one.
“What game is this?” he said so softly I knew he was speaking to himself. “She shudders with revulsion then pretends to care. Why touch me gently now? To make the sting of the blade more painful? Pain is pain, beauty, no matter how deeply you cut. And I will take it all, for it cannot mask the pleasure I find when you finally take me into your body.”
Oh boy.
My fingers shook a little harder as I continued wrapping the cloth around his wrist. Did he honestly think this was a prelude to sex? Unfortunately, this scenario did fall in line with how I’d pictured my first time. Filled with pain and suffering. Mine, almost certainly, since I’d imagined my first time would happen against my will because I’d failed to follow the rules in some way.
C’adon’s agitation increased.
“Gods, why must there be pain between us?”
