Page 54 of The Royal's Pet: A MMF Ménage Royal Romance

“Water?”

She nods, holding her throat.

“Come with me.”

I link my hand in hers. She flinches at first, as though my touch frightens her, but then she lets me lead her through the dark bedroom, down the winding stairs, and into the kitchen. Moonlight pours through the tall windows, swathing everything in indigo blue. I flick on the artificial kitchen light, which changes the room to pale white.

“Sit on the couch,” I tell her. Rory coughs and wheezes as she sits down.

I pluck a glass out and fill it with water from the sink. I move to Rory and hand the glass to her.

She tilts it to her lips. The glass shakes in her hand. Once she’s sipped, she sets it down and rasps, “Thank you.”

“What do you need?” I’m on red alert. This isn’t a normal nightmare. Normal nightmares go away when the sleeper wakes up. This is leeching off her.

Rory motions to herself. “It’s… nothing. Just having a… little… panic attack.” She screws her eyes shut and groans. “My heart is beating so fast. I just need to… mm. Slow it down. This happens all the time.”

“Does it?”

She cracks an eye open. “It used to. I haven’t… in a long time. I’ll be fine.”

I don’t like this. I don’t like feeling helpless while the woman I love gasps and chokes inches away from me.

“Maybe you can… take me in the car,” she rasps. “And we can drive. Just drive.”

Her eyes are wild and unfocused, staring ahead. She’s looking for an exit.

“Do you mind if I try something?” When I phrase it as a question, it sounds like she has a choice.

She shakes her head. Her hand is stuck on her chest as though she can reach inside and physically slow the hammering of her heart. “Please,” she says.

Our clothes are scattered all around the estate. My belt is curled up on the floor from I can’t even remember when. I pick it up and stand over her. “Lift your hair,” I say.

She looks at me like I’m crazy. I can’t blame her. She can barely breathe, and I’m going to choke her.

“Do you trust me?” I ask.

At that, it clicks. She obeys and lifts her hair from the back of her neck. I loop the belt around her throat and then slide one end through the buckle. It catches around her neck like a collar.

“On the floor,” I demand.

Rory shifts off the couch and gets to her hands and knees on the floor instead. No more protests from her. She’s obeying me instinctively.

Good. This is right where I want her. “Sit, pet.”

She plops her bum down. I crouch in front of her so I can better see her expression. Her gentle moon eyes melt me. I wrap the loose end of the belt around my fist and tighten it slightly. The buckle constricts her throat, and she gasps.

“How does it feel?” I ask.

“Tight.”

“No, how do you feel? Confined?”

“Yes.”

“Scared?”

She shakes her head. “No. Safe.”

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