I captured her mouth like she was the last woman on earth. The only woman for me. My tongue speared through her soft, sweet lips, and I took and took and took. I stole her taste, her breath. I forced her to accept every inch of need from my tongue to hers.

She moaned, pressing hard against me, dragging more from me until I couldn’t tell where her lips began and mine ended.

My fingers tightened on their own accord, searching for the sweet surrender, the ultimate control. I kissed her while choking her until her legs wobbled, and I caught her as she buckled completely.

The knowledge she let me bring her to the point of such weakness made my heart swell until it no longer fit in my ribcage. I didn’t think I’d find anything as satisfying as causing pain, but the complete submission and trust was the ultimate aphrodisiac.

Releasing her, I scooped up her limp body and carried her across the room. Past the fireplace, away from the chains in the ceiling where I’d strung her up the first time, heading toward the back of the tower.

Tess blinked, foggy from lack of oxygen. “Where are we going?”

Gulping a deep breath, completely at the mercy of my throbbing c**k and thick desire, I repositioned Tess in my arms to pull at the thick velvet curtain to the left of the massive turret window.

The dark green material slithered off, landing in a puddle like a melted forest.

Tess gasped and snuggled closer, gaping at the human-sized cross. Its well-oiled dark wood and bright red leather restraints appeared medieval and terrifying. Apparatus such as these had been used to flay a man alive or strip him limb from limb. It was barbaric. It was horrific. It was delicious.

Tess would be completely restrained. Completely at my mercy. Completely mine.

She moaned and shivered, sending shockwaves of need through my limbs. My voice dripped with blackness.

“It’s time you began your initiation into my world, esclave.”

Chapter 2

I relish the snap, welcome the burn, don’t stop yet it’s still my turn.

Tighten your grip, make me bleed, this is a hunger I need to feed...

Two emotions battled within me: uncertainty and excitement. I won the battle I’d been fighting for four days: I made Q give in. But at what cost? I could no longer read his body—he was wound too tightly, bristling with lust. His pale jade eyes unreadable, shuttered against anything but the burn of dominance.

Staring at the cross, everything slowed to a standstill. Life paused, and I stood in a little bubble of reflection. My initiation into his mysterious world had started, and I teetered on the threshold, wondering if I’d ever see light again.

My throat ached from where he’d held me. His large hand had crushed my windpipe and the urge to scratch him, fight until he let go had been unbearable. But somehow, I knew Q needed to be taught the most important factor of any relationship. He had to learn that for any sort of love to grow between us, it needed a firm foundation to last. A foundation based on unshakable trust and faith in each other.

I said I trusted Q. I didn’t. Not yet. And I was damn sure he didn’t trust me. We both fumbled in the dark, trying to figure out the rules of our connection, and until we learned to read and believe in each other, we were doomed.

My fingertips touched my bruised neck; I winced as I swallowed. The ache was a justified experiment to see just how far Q would go. I’d been one heartbeat from unconsciousness, but he hadn’t pushed me over the edge.

I allowed my faith in him to evolve just a little.

Q shifted beside me, watching my fingers stroking my throat. His eyes flashed with shame and remorse before being swallowed by blazing heat and darkness. “I won’t apologise for hurting you. You provoked me. Je ne peux pas me priver si longtemps.” I can only deny myself for so long.

My body reacted; melting, loosening, preparing to accept his body into mine. Q’s eyes acted as an accelerant to the slow burn in my belly and it spread like a holocaust, turning my insides to ash. “I don’t expect an apology,” I whispered.

“Good.” He cupped my cheek. It would’ve been a tender move, but with Q it still seethed with silent rage.

I held my ground as Q looped his finger behind my ear, securing a lock of escaped hair. Shivering, I looked into his gaze. Stared deep into the heart of the monster I’d chosen over a sweet boy like Brax.

Where Brax was the sun, Q was the endless sucking void of space. A black-hole full of mystery and hidden worlds. My eyes skittered to the cross. Am I in for a world of pain? Had Q finally snapped beyond all control?

The inception into his world meant I had a lot to learn. How brave could I be and how strong was my pain threshold?

“I’ve been stupid, maître.” My eyes dropped to his lips. They were wet from his tongue, making my mouth water at the thought of kissing him again.

His hand dropped from my ear, grazing my nipple on the way down. I flinched, and my pu**y clenched at the innocuous touch.

“You have been stupid. Courageously stupid, esclave.”

I nodded, my breathing shallow as Q dropped his head and kissed my lips whisper-softly. I swooned into him, desperate to sling my arms around his neck and press my br**sts against his strength. Some basic part of me, the unthinking but all-sensing part, knew I had to break Q completely before he could embrace the softer side of what we could have.

He was afraid.

But afraid of what? Maybe because he’d never had a bond like this before. Maybe he truly believed he was the devil and incapable of true love. But I wouldn’t give up on him.

Q deepened the kiss, and I moaned. Throwing my arms around his neck, I jerked him closer. He grunted, steadying us on the wooden cross behind me. Then his hands captured my wrists and removed them forcibly from around his neck.

“You know you’re stupid, and yet you continue to push me. Would you try to stroke a panther when it’s hunting? Non, parce que la mort te trouverait rapidement.” No, because death would find you swiftly. His words were clipped as bullets.

Images of predators and killing and blood saturated my mind.

Q was born into darkness, created by circumstances he wouldn’t share with me, but if any one of us was damaged, it was him. I wanted him to no longer fear himself. He no longer had to be alone.

With my wrists cuffed in his fingers, I said, “Do you want to know what I thought when I returned to you. The promise I made to myself?”

Q froze, nostrils flaring.

I took his silence as approval and continued, “I said I’d fight for you. That you deserved to be fought for. I didn’t know then, and I still don’t know what I need to finally get through to you—” I leaned forward, trying to get close enough to kiss him. He stiffened and his hold gave no room for movement. “—but I’ll never stop. I was right. You’re worth every fight. Every argument and bump in the road. I’ll fight because I’m falling for you, Q.”

How could I not fall for this man? This complex, emotionally tangled man. The saver of slaves and property tycoon. Q was all my nightmares, fantasies, and needs rolled into one bestial package. He was my drug of choice and I’d been craving him for four long days.

“Don’t fall for me.” He grabbed my shoulders. His touch was hot and his fingertips branded me with force. “I can’t be responsible for that.”

My heart beat too fast as I breathed in his scent of sandalwood and citrus. His body was so close, it befuddled me with lust and toe-curling need.

“Be responsible for what?” I took a risk, ducking my head to kiss him on his forearm. The corded muscle leapt beneath my lips, and he let go as if I’d bitten him.

“I’m sure to break other parts of you, but I don’t want the curse of breaking your heart.”

“You can’t break something that is freely given.” A small part of me wanted him to say he’d treasure it, guard it, and nurture it forever, but that softness wasn’t there yet.

He struggled every day with my demands and expectations. I knew he did. I saw it in his eyes, the way he watched me with a mixture of awe and annoyance, even a touch of fear. One moment he’d answer my seemingly harmless question, the next he’d shut me out as easily as a storm cloud swallows the moon.

Every day I kept prying, kept prodding. Being a pest and a nuisance, waiting for the day when his self-control snapped and tore me into pieces.

“Enough,” Q roared. His chest strained as he pushed me hard against the cross. My back crashed against the eerily warm wood. I flinched as Q pressed his long frame against mine, sandwiching me completely. “Now is not the time to talk about hearts and falling, esclave. Now is the time for pain and f**king. See how the two don’t mix?”

He pushed off, swiping his face with an angry palm. “I’m tired. Too tired to keep fighting. I want you. I’ve wanted to make you scream for four f**king long days. I tried to behave. I tried to stop the darkness, but you just wouldn’t let it go. And now it’s my turn. You’re going to give me what I want. Take this obsessive sick need from me and help grant me a reprieve.”

Something black gleamed over the pale green of Q’s eyes. Something I’d only seen flickers of. Something that terrified as much as enthralled me.

“Not another word, or I’ll use the ball gag. I only want moans and my name on your lips when I come deep inside you. Understand?” He breathed hard, and the tip of his c**k nudged at the waistband of his boxer-briefs, excessively hard and calling to me like an addiction.

I’d never felt more alive or more frightened.

“I understand, maître,” I whispered.

My voice was the starting gun. Q gritted his teeth, visibly shuddering. All along he’d been searching for my permission—whether he knew it or not. He shed the angry tension and relaxed, transforming into a composed master.

I waited for him to buckle the myriad of straps around me, but he paused.

Waited and watched.

Breathed and deliberated.

Then he lurched forward; his mouth crushed mine. My neck protested from where he’d strangled me and I couldn’t breathe as his tongue darted past the seam of my lips and took. My God, he f**king took. He demanded and cajoled with every twist of his tongue. Every lick and sweep.

The kiss held fury and promises. His lips spoke how much he already cared for me, all the while trying to eat me alive.

With unrestrained hands, I let myself do what I’d wanted for so long. I allowed myself to touch him. My arms flew up and my fingers swept through his thick, short hair.

He moaned as I dug nails deep, remembering his migraine and how he let me massage him back to health. How, by letting me tend to him, my emotions blossomed and grew. I’d been a slave—a possession—then. Now, I belonged. I was truly his, but only because I chose it.

I’d found where I belonged. I was done fighting my desires. Q was everything I wanted and more.

Running my hands down his scalp, I captured the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His taut body landed on mine with a heavy lurch, pressing me hard against the cross. His mouth bruised mine as our lips melded and clashed against each other.

Spearing my tongue with his, I battled his taste until we were both heaving and clawing at each other. I lost sense of how hard I scratched his neck and shoulders. I lost sensation of how hard his fingers dug into my hips. Nothing existed but our kiss.

Sharp, sweet pain made me gasp. My eyes watered as Q pulled back, licking his lips free from a small trace of accusing red.

“You bit me,” I panted.

I opened my mouth and ran a fingertip over my already swelling tongue. Metallic blood pooled just a little; I swallowed.

He stared at me unrepentant, eyes glassy with lust. “I couldn’t stop it. I had to taste you.” His throat rippled as he swallowed, taking some part of me deep into him.

My thoughts raced. Even though Q was so hard to read, I began to see his true depth of need. His need for scars and blood and primal connection. He wasn’t faking it. It wasn’t about the kink or whipping. It was purely about opening me up, cracking open my very existence, and possessing me.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit it scared me. I liked pain. I loved the taboo line of pleasure in accepting a whip’s kiss or a flogger’s smack—subservient entirely to my master’s whim. But I wasn’t ready to die.

Will Q ever be satisfied? My heart sank, plummeted right to my toes.

Panic rose in my throat, forming into an uncomfortable knot. “Will I ever be enough? Will I ever be able to give you what you crave?”

Q jolted upright, his entire body jerking to a rigid halt. It wasn’t until he took a fumbling step back I realized I’d spoken aloud.

Oh, shit.

My eyes flew to Q’s blazing jade ones, and my heart died a little more. Tess, you idiot.

Rushing forward, I grabbed his arm and squeezed hard muscle. “I didn’t mean that. I know this is all so new. It’s strange…for both of us.”

Q looked at me as if I were an alien species. His eyes went blank, face contorted with confusion and regret.

I cupped his cheek, desperate to have him come back to me. I could almost follow his thoughts. See the blood splatter, the hatred for himself.

When he didn’t react to my soft touch, I tried hard instead. I slapped him.

The noise of flesh against flesh snapped him out of his zombified state. He blinked, rubbing his cheek absentmindedly. A few seconds passed while he gathered himself together.

Finally, he scowled. All the fire and lust from before blazed in his gaze.

“I told you not to speak unless it was screaming my name.”

His body rippled as he allowed his demons to come fully into the light. “And banish those thoughts from your head, esclave. No matter what I say, you are enough. Too much. Trop pure et parfaite pour un homme comme moi.” Too pure and perfect for a man like me.