And yet—I wondered if there was some way I could play on our history. To make him remember how we were, how he was. To reach the part of him that Auriel swore still existed.
“Rhyan, please,” I begged, my heart pounding. “Please untie me. I need to go. Okay? I just need my weapons back.”
His eyes softened. “I know. There’s so many akadim here. Akadim who will hurt you. You really do need your weapons to defend yourself.”
I nodded. “I do. I do. Against the others, but not you. I won’t fight you. If you give them back to me, I’ll leave you alone. You know I will. So, can you—can you do that for me?”
“Do that for you? Hmmm.” He looked like he was considering it. Then he smirked. “You know I can do a lot for you, Lyr. Almost anything I want,” he said, his voice suggestive.
“But untying you?” He laughed.
My heart sank.
“No,” he said, “I don’t think either of us want that. Neither of us want you to leave. Because I can smell it on you.” He skimmed my neck with his lips. His fangs sharp against my skin. “I can still smell your arousal.”
His hand slid back down my neck, to my shoulder, moving lower. I burst into tears, a sob wracking through me as I felt his hand slide down my chest, toward my heart. He flattened his palm against it. My stomach twisted painfully, and yet at the same time, heat bloomed between my legs.
Gods.
The terror running through my veins was real, and yet, my body was still reacting on some level like this was just Rhyan. The Rhyan I knew, and loved, and trusted. Not the monster, not the akadim lying on top of me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my entire body trembling, as his hand pressed harder against me. His elongated fingers touching the upper curves of my breasts, his clawed nails piercing the fabric of my tunic.
No. No.
“Please,” I whispered. “Rhyan, please, don’t.” I looked up at him imploringly. His hand hadn’t moved, he was still holding itagainst me, but he was wearing a curious expression now. He looked—Gods—he looked almost human.
“It beats so fast,” he said. “Why does it beat so fast?”
“Because—” I started.
His hand slid over my breast, his claws just missing my nipple as he trailed down to my waist. And any humanness in his expression was gone. He was all demon now.
Tears blurred my vision. “Because I’m afraid,” I cried with a painful gasp, “I’m afraid you’re going to hurt me.”
I knew that was a stupid thing to say to an akadim. But I didn’t know what to do. How to react. Normal akadim I knew how to fight. Knew how to kill. But I’d never been tied up by one—never been with one that could talk and reason with me.
And I’d never been with one that was Rhyan. The man who I trusted more than anyone in the world. In the universe. The man, who until this moment, I’d believed with my whole heart would never—could never—hurt me.
Some part of me deep inside, was desperately clinging to the belief that I could appeal to him. Rationally. Like some part of him was still in there, and not lost in the in-between. He still had his accent, and his neatness, and fuck—it was dark and off-putting, but his humor had remained.
But this wasn’t Rhyan. Rhyan would have never laughed at me, or tied me up.
Or touched me without permission.
“Hurt you?” he asked. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
I sniffled. “You don’t?”
He tilted his head to the side, his eyes moving up and down my body. “I don’t.”
“You—you won’t hurt me?” I asked, my voice small.
Rhyan laughed. “I said I didn’t want to. Doesn’t mean I won’t. That all depends on you. If you’re a good girl. Or, if you need to be punished.”
“Rhyan, please,” I said desperately. “Listen to me. This isn’t you. This is not who you are or what you’re like. But there’s a way to fix this. I can help you.”
“Help me?” he scoffed. “How do you think you can help me?”
