Page 63 of Crown of Light and Ashes
His shadows drag me toward the center of the room, where they shift to hold me upright against a support beam. My arms are still bound above my head, but my feet are now touching the ground. More tendrils slide across my skin, finding the closures of my gown and undoing them one by one.
"What are you doing?" I gasp as cool air hits my skin. Heat rushes through my core as his eyes move over my naked flesh. I'm burning for this man, for my captor—my husband.
"Testing a theory," he replies, circling me as his shadows continue their work. My outer gown falls away, leaving me in just my thin silk shift, my nipples already hard, and I want his mouth on them. Kaan smiles as if he just read my mind. "I believe that, given the right circumstances, you'll beg for my touch."
"I would rather die," I respond, but the conviction in my voicewavers as a shadow tendril brushes across my nipple, drawing it to a tight peak through the silk.
"So dramatic," he chuckles. "Death is so permanent. Pleasure, on the other hand..." His eyes darken as he watches my body respond to his shadow’s caress, that arrogant, smug smile never leaving his expression. "Pleasure can be infinite when properly administered."
From a nearby table, he retrieves a strip of black silk. "Do you know what this is for, Nesilhan?"
I swallow hard, my heart racing with anticipation. "You're going to blindfold me."
"I am indeed." He moves behind me, draping the silk across my eyes. "Without sight, your other senses will heighten. Every touch, every sound, every sensation magnified beyond measure."
The loss of vision is disorienting. I can sense his movement around me, but can no longer anticipate his actions. It makes me vulnerable in a way that both terrifies and thrills me. This is madness. I shouldn't like this, I shouldn't want this, but I'm ready to beg him to touch me.
"I don't…" I begin, but the words die in my throat as I feel his breath on my neck, followed by the lightest brush of his lips on the thin fabric that covers my right nipple.
"Don't what?" he prompts, his voice a dark whisper and a promise. I'm already slick between my legs, and I want his mouth on me. "Don't want this? Don't need this? We both know that's a lie."
His hand slides into my hair, then he fists it and pulls painfully hard. Now, not only is my whole bodyon fire, but my scalp is too. "I can feel your desire through our bond,hatun. It burns as brightly as mine."
I try to deny it, but the only sound that escapes is a soft moan as his teeth graze my pulse point. The shadows around my wrists loosen slightly, testing, but I no longer fight against them. I want to obey, so he can keep touching me.
"That's it," he murmurs against my skin. "Surrender to what we both know you crave."
His shadows tear the silk shift down the middle, leaving me completely exposed to the cool air and his hungry gaze. I should feel shame, should struggle against this invasion, but instead, I arch toward the sensation, my body betraying my mind's protests—heat pools between my thighs.
"Look at you," he breathes, his voice thick with appreciation. "So beautiful in your surrender."
The praise sends an unexpected jolt of heat through me, making me gasp. He notices immediately, a soft laugh escaping him.
"Interesting," he says. His hand cups my breast, thumb brushing across the sensitive nipple. "You like being told how perfect you are, don't you? How exquisite? How utterly magnificent?"
Each word of praise sends fresh heat pooling between my thighs, a reaction I've never experienced before. Something about the combination of physical restraint and verbal adoration breaks through my defenses in a way I couldn't have anticipated.
"No," I lie, my voice barely audible.
"No?" His hand slides lower, across my ribs, my stomach, until his fingers brush the junction of my thighs. He dips his fingers into my entrance, and I moan. "Your body disagrees,hatun. You're dripping for me. Your needy cunt needs more attention."
I bite my lip to keep from moaning as his fingers trace my clit with maddening lightness.
"I could keep you like this for hours," he continues, his voice a seductive rumble, and I pant for air as he keeps caressing my clit—over and over again. "Suspended in my shadows, blindfolded, completely at my mercy. Would you like that, my perfect little assassin? My exquisite, dangerous bride?"
The praise, combined with his touch, draws a broken sound from my throat.
"Please," I whisper, not sure if I'm begging him to stop or continue. He has won, I want his rough touch on my body.
"Please what?" he presses, his fingers circling my clit without providing the pressure I desperately need. "Use your words, beautiful one. Tell me exactly what you want."
"I—I can't," I gasp, my hips straining toward his touch.
"You can," he insists, withdrawing his hand completely. "I need you to tell me exactly how I should touch you, or this ends now."
The loss of contact is unbearable. I whimper, pride crumbling beneath overwhelming need.
"Touch me," I plead. "Please, Kaan."
