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Why I could hold my chin high and not cry.
He loves me.
My heart squeezed.
We’d found love in hell.
We’d made a pact against the devil.
I can do this.
He won’t hurt me.
Not really.
And if he did…well…
I swallowed hard, still not comfortable with the admission.
I’ll…probably enjoy it.
Standing taller in my binds, I found Henri’s eyes and lost myself in his churning grey-dark depths.
Victor had left to join Rachel on the bed. His attention only on her.
It was just me and Henri.
Just us in this despicable world.
We stared for far too long, both of us waiting for the other to make the first move.
With a grimace, Henri shook his head and looked down at the whip in his hands.
I shifted where I stood, bound to the cross. The chain and its hook jangled, sending a wash of the same delicious, dangerous awareness through me. I’d felt it last night when I’d gone pliant beneath him.
Playing the captive.
Relinquishing my power.
It’d done something to me.
It’d done something to him.
He’d infected me with his dark disease, and I couldn’t hate him for it. How could I hate him when he made me feel so alive, so in-tune, so sensitive?
His face darkened as time ticked past.
His chest rose and fell, his breathing shallow and harsh.
His knuckles whitened around the whip as he fell back into memories.
No…
Stay with me.
You have to stay with me.
I cleared my throat loudly; the noise wrenched his eyes back to mine.
