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Ily didn’t speak beside me, sucking in her own breath.
The half-moon shone its silver light over us, painting her beautiful face in pearly luminance.
I wanted so fucking much to sink to the grass and just hug her. Kiss her. Whisper about our dreams. Be gentle and loving before I pinned her beneath me and delivered pleasure that drove us straight into hell.
But we did our best to never touch sweetly.
If I stroked her without thinking, I made sure I made her squeak for an audience.
If I caught myself staring at her with my heart in my fucking throat, I ensured I cursed her, demeaned her, and said things I didn’t mean so the cameras portrayed a Master who might have a soft spot for his jewel but definitely wasn’t a man in love.
“Do you want to take a stroll?” Ily finally asked after ten minutes of moon bathing.
I nodded and broke into a slow amble.
Soft grass tickled my toes. The dew already damp and cold.
Autumn colours transformed Victor’s gardens, turning greens into oranges and flowers into corpses.
We headed toward the battlement walls, following box hedges, drifting around fountains, and finding peace after a busy ballroom full of Masters and their jewels.
Fuck, I was exhausted.
I just wanted this over.
I wanted to go to sleep and not wake in a cold sweat fearing Ily had been stolen.
I wanted to write without fearing someone reading over my shoulder and have sex without someone watching.
But most of all, I wanted to get Ily safe.
I needed her back with her family so if I died sooner rather than later, I could rest peacefully, knowing she was far, far away from Victor and his horrors.
Two Masters and two jewels appeared to our left, striding quickly in our direction. The citadel glowed behind them. Arrow slits and windows glowed bright yellow, looking like a thousand judging eyes.
“Ah shit,” I muttered under my breath. “I have no desire to perform tonight. Let’s go into the maze.” Grabbing Ily’s hand, I cut across the courtyard where vines crawled up a trellis and a small sala waited for lovers. The familiar hum of energy and awareness sparked between us, making my heart pound faster.
I let her hand go the moment we entered the huge, manicured maze.
I didn’t know if Victor had cameras in here, but I wouldn’t risk it.
I would never risk Ily, even though my fingers craved hers and my heart hurt and my bones throbbed with madness.
Ily remained silent.
She huddled deeper into her beige jumper—the only warm thing she had—her nose pink with cold.
Left then right, right then left, we travelled deeper into the maze, heading toward the centre where another sala and a wishing well had been built. We’d spent enough time wandering that we’d learned the maze’s dead ends and tricks and often came in here to get away from the other Masters.
A month ago, I’d fucked Ily against one of the posts of the wishing well, putting on a show just in case. Our show had turned into truth, and I’d made her come hard enough to reward me with one of her G-spot orgasms.
My stomach clenched as we stepped into the centre of the maze.
“Should’ve brought a few drinks with us.” I smiled at my twin flame. “Gotten tipsy and enjoyed our own celebration.”
“What celebration?” Her adorable nose wrinkled.
“Our four-month anniversary is coming up.”
