Page 51 of A Tale of Two Dukes

The chuckle that erupts from my throat is rich, hearty, and full of amusement. This tiny slip of a girl thinks to order me about. It’s amusing and adorable.

“Be a good omega for me and come here. If you obey me, your punishment will be light, more of a tease in anticipation for when I take you. Refuse and you only have yourself to blame.”

Like a fawn trapped between a wild animal and a cliff, she stares at me, eyes wild. “Please, Your Grace. I can’t. You must understand. It’s not for disobedience I defy you.”

“Oh? You believe this little chase you led me on is why you’re being punished?”

“Is it not part of it?”

“No, my dear girl. You see, I find hunting you down to be exhilarating. However, we will address you lying to me and defying my orders.”

“I couldn’t refuse him. To do so would be a slight.”

Leaning against the door, I cross my arms. “And yet, you have no issue regaling me with your falsehoods? You couldn’t find it in you to send word via the maid that you were ill and unable to receive visitors?”

“You don’t understand.” Hysteria tinges her voice.

“Then enlighten me.” She remains silent, her fingers gripping and releasing the shift. “Fine then. You shall surely sing when my lash connects with your flesh.”

Though I have no intention of actually beating the truth out of the girl, she still darts away from me, terror souring the room in her wake. It’s enough. I will not have her become ill with fright, not when she’s already in such a fragile state.

Shifting low, I connect my shoulder to her stomach and flip her over so that she dangles across my upper body. She struggles, her frantic movements nearly upending her over and onto the floor. Readjusting my grip, I swat her firmly.

The blows have their desired effect, and she stills, her body blossoming with arousal. “Now then, my little kitten. Time to turn you into a songbird.”

CHAPTER 21

Kitty

Arousal and fear intermingle into a heady mixture. My insides knot as his fingers smooth away the sting in my bottom. But oh, how it makes me burn in so many other delicious ways.

At least I know it isn’t all the fault of my heat. My body responded like this on normal occasions as well. The main difference is everything is so much more. The need is a living thing winding its way through my veins.

Every touch, every breath, every brush of his body against mine stokes the embers until every inch of me is on fire. My body aches from head to toe, and deep down, I know Birchleigh can make it all better. He just has to. At this moment, he’s the only one who can.

With every step, his muscles bunch under my stomach, reminding me of just how strong and powerful he is. Need claws at me as whimpers tear from my throat. I know where he’s taking me—that delicious dungeon he keeps hidden away.

In truth, I want him to take me there, strap me to whichever bench he chooses, and relieve me of this burden. In an ideal world, it would be the perfect game, a lark, just some pastime for us to idle away the hours. In my mind’s eye, it would be so simple.

I would harbor some innocent secret, and he’d spank it out of me. Or, better yet, drive into me with that thick member of his until I’m so delirious I cannot help but reveal it. How fun and relieving it would be.

But this isn’t a game. It’s a matter of life and death. Sobering, I dig my fingers into his shirt, smothering my lips as I bury my face into his scent-laden clothes. What’s the use? According to him, he’ll know everything, anyway.

At least if I remain silent, I can hopefully be held blameless. Mr. Beaumont would understand. Right? Nothing about that man is reasonable, and I know this. It’s simply some fanciful idea that bounces around my head, comforting me in this time of need.

No. I need to break free, to escape. It’s not for my sake or even the devil that dangles me from his fingertips like some maniacal puppeteer. The man that currently holds me aloft also owns my heart.

One day, he’ll understand. But for now, I need to run. Feigning a faint, I collapse onto him, limp. For a moment, Birchleigh pauses, his fingers running up the backs of my thighs, but I do not so much as stir.

It’s agony, torture to drape over him motionless while he skims up my backside, pausing to run a finger down the cleft. With swift movements he pulls me down, cradling me in his arms. I can feel the concern in his touch as he smooths my hair out of my face and grazes my cheek.

Once his grip around me loosens, I fly into action, twisting in his arms until I drop to the floor. I’m up in an instant, running from him as if it’s my own life that depends on it. All the while, he simply walks after me, his boots echoing through the halls with each purposeful step.

It’s maddening. He should be hurrying after me. And yet, somehow, each large stride brings him closer to my side. I cannot escape him, no matter what twists and turns I take.

Though I’ve been here a handful of weeks, I still find myself turned around, unable to find a way out of this house. And perhaps that’s a good thing. In only my shift and my heat looming, I’d be fair game to any Alpha in the vicinity.

What if Mr. Beaumont lies in wait outside the doors, poised to capture me the moment I step one foot beyond the threshold? The very thought stops me cold, giving Birchleigh ample time to lock his arm about my waist and hoist me up.