Page 16 of The King's Omega
“He’s asking what I plan to do with you,” Vilkurn murmured. “I told him it was your choice. The lower dungeon, with instruments of actual torture—the wheel, the rack, thumbscrews. Nothing exceptional, but highly effective.” He paused. “Or we could stay here. But this dungeon is only for the willing, kitten.”
The willing? People wouldchooseto be tortured here?
I shivered again, and Axe moved forward, tearing the black cloak off Vilkurn’s shoulders and draping it over me. He dropped a quick kiss on my forehead, and I burned with a surge of affection. “Thank you,” I whispered. He made a motion with one hand, then backed away, his eyes shining.
I stretched under the fabric, absorbing the leather and mint aroma of Vilkurn and the musky spice of Axe. Individually, they smelled fantastic, but together they were completely irresistible.
More liquid dripped from my thighs. This was getting ridiculous. “I need to go to the bathroom,” I muttered. “And soon, or you’re going to have a mess here.”
“A mess?” Vilkurn moved to the end of the table and held the candle over my thighs, lifting the cloak. “General Asher, come look at this.”
General Asher?Oh, that must be Axe’s real name.
I strained to close my legs, but the ropes held fast. Mortified, I squeezed my eyes shut as tightly as I could. The two men were staring directly into my private places, and their eyes may as well have been fingers. I could feel their gazes roaming over my flesh.
It didn’t bother me, not really. Maybe I still had the courage of the wine. I wished one of them would do something, say something, touch me somewhere. The wetness trickled out faster.
“See? I need to go. I’m having my monthly courses. Or something.” A feathery touch caressed me. A finger? My eyes popped wide. Axe was staring between my legs like he’d discovered treasure. Entranced, he dragged the finger through the wet mess and lifted it to his mouth, sucking his finger clean with a deep, thrumming growl. It hadn’t been blood, but some clear liquid. I gasped, even more warmth blooming. “P-please, I don’t know what’s happening. Please let me go.”
Vilkurn’s voice was a harsh rasp. “I cannot. Choose your torture. The dungeon, or here.”
“W-will you rape me, then?” I tried not to cry, but tears pricked my eyes. I knew Axe wouldn’t hurt me, but I wasn’t sure about Vilkurn. He would never believe that Icouldn’tbe raped, just hurt. He would try, like the men at the brothel had.
I trembled with genuine fear this time. Would he beat me out of frustration like some of them had? Whip me bloody?
“No,” Vilkurn replied, as Axe made a curt gesture with his hand that obviously meant the same thing. “Never. But if you choose to stay here, I will touch you. If you consent.” Vilkurn tilted his head when I relaxed. Being touched when I didn’t want it was scary.
But being touched if I asked for it? I’d never experienced that.
“That doesn’t frighten you at all, does it?” He pressed a hand to my chest, measuring the quick rise and fall, and the way my nipples pebbled beneath the cloth of his cloak.
“Y-you promise not to hurt me?” I turned my head to Axe, who was breathing as hard as I was. “You’ll just… touch me?” I wanted that so much. I wanted to hear that purring sound again, and feel those large hands caressing me.
Axe shook his head once, slowly. His dark eyes filled with regret.
“Asher—Axe—will watch.” I slumped until he added, “but yes, I will touch you very gently indeed.”
Gently? That had to be better than actual torture, right? “Y-yes, then. I consent.”
Suddenly, Axe leaned over me, his eyes questioning. He mouthed,“Are you sure?”
I nodded, though I knew I was trembling.
“Will you keep me safe?” I whispered.
“Always,”he said silently, and pressed a gentle kiss on my lips, his soft beard rubbing my chin and cheeks, raising goosebumps.
“That was my first proper kiss,” I confided. Axe’s eyes gleamed as he retreated.
Vilkurn, however, frowned. “Your first kiss? To the Hells with Rigol. And with me. You’re too innocent for my games, little one.” He reached to untie me, and a whine escaped my throat. “Kitten? Do you want to be touched?” Another whine emerged, unbidden.
He stopped, his golden-brown eyes caressing my face. “Do youwantme to untie you, sweet girl?” The pulse at the base of my throat thudded. “I will if you ask for it. Do you want me to free you?”
I might not be made of courage now, but I still had enough in me for one small word, one truth. “No. I-I want this. All of this.”
His eyes moved around the room, as if he was seeking out something vital. Finally, his gaze fell on my kitten. “If you change your mind, if you ever want me to stop, say one word: Mischief. Understand?”
I nodded.
