Jaw tight, Damien swallowed, mumbling between grit teeth, “I swear to all the gods, you will be the death of me if you keep pushing me like this.”
She took him by the back of the neck, and jerked his face just to hers. “Oh, no, are you angry with me?”
“Getting there.” He strained to keep space between them, but his hips shifted again, hands falling to her thighs, fingers digging into her skin.
“So, punish me.”
Damien fell still beneath her, and his face changed, the irritation wiped off of it, traded in an instant for what she could only call villainy. A chuckle crawled up out of his throat, and his laughter was so dark, her vision dimmed. “What an absolutely wicked idea.” His hands came around hers, and in one swift move they were caught behind her back. “I think I will punish you, Amma.”
She arched her back to press her breasts against him. “Uh oh,” she lilted in a breathy voice but only grinned deeper.
“Oh, no, no, no,” he said, trapping her wrists in just one of his hands, pinning them to her low back. A finger came under her chin as his eyes narrowed. “You arenotgoing to enjoy this.”
Damien stood, and Amma slid backward, surprised her body hadn’t completely melted and she could still manage to plant her feet on the ground. Hands still bound behind her in his tight grip, he spun her around and gave her a slight shove.
She only stumbled a little, kept steady in his grasp. “Why are we going away from the bed?”
“No questions,” he growled and walked her to the door and right out into the hallway. It was colder there, but thankfully still empty, and then he shoved her into her chamber instead.
When the door clicked shut, Damien released her wrists and swept past to the bed where a candle was still lit. He blew it out, dousing what little concentrated light was in the room, the fireplace only smoldering and casting a dim, orange glow. “Take that dress off.”
Amma stood stupefied for a moment, then did exactly as she was told, slipping out of the thin fabric and letting it pool around her feet. Somehow she was still cold even as a flash of heat took her at being completely naked in the same room as Damien, but he was focused on picking something up off the floor, back to her. “Now what, Lord Bloodthorne?”
“Put this on,” he said, holding out his arm.
Amma crossed the room tentatively, cold air making her already shallow breaths harder to take at all. With every step toward him, her heart pounded harder in her throat, body alert to even the slightest shift in the chamber, air especially cool on the places that had been made so warm by way of friction.
When she finally reached him, he didn’t turn to look at her, but in his hand he held out her own chemise. So, he wanted her as she normally was? Fine, he could have her anyway he liked. She tugged the chemise on, smoothing it over her stomach, its edges grazing the tops of her thighs. “Done,” she said, pleased with herself.
His voice was low, back still to her. “On the bed.”
Amma brushed up against him as she slipped herself between where he stood and the bed. She sat on the mattress’s edge where the curtains were already drawn and slid backward, locking eyes with him. His features were hard to read in the shadows, but he seemed to be holding himself very still, so she lifted her knees up and slowly began to drop them away from one another.
Damien grabbed her, and she gasped, the heat of his hands burning against the chill of her shins, and then they slid up, grasping her knees and holding her in place so she couldn’t reveal herself. Amma whined in the back of her throat, and he chuckled again in that dark, heavy way of his that she wished he would do right up against her skin. “Patience,” he said, staring down at her, lips parted, eyes trailing over her body.
Amma settled back, gazing up at him, waiting. After a painfully long moment, he finally climbed up onto the bed, tentatively releasing her knees and coming to kneel beside her. Unable to stand it any longer, Amma reached out, but her wrists were snared once more, and she was pushed into the downy blankets.
“What did I say?”
Amma bit down on her lip, a grumble rising up in her throat.
But Damien overcame her irritation with his own, clicking his tongue and dragging her upward, making her squeal with surprise as she was drawn over the bed. Before she realized, her arms were stretched above her head, and he’d swung a leg over her middle, trapping her beneath him.
Amma’s eyes widened at the growth hovering so near her face. Damien took his free hand to his belt, and she practically salivated at the thought of what was coming next. Breasts and core aching, she knew she was whining pitifully, but didn’t care. He paused for only a moment to look down on her like a feral animal about to devour his prey, then grunted as he pulled the belt free.
Damien’s hands weren’t as quick or nimble as Amma’s, but they knew just what they were doing. He expertly wound the belt around her wrists, pulling it tight as he lashed the excess somewhere over her head. The leather cut into her skin, rough but not unpleasant. In fact, Amma was surprised at just how not unpleasant the bindings were. He gave her wrists a tug to be sure they were secure, and she tried to squirm, to get some relief in the warmest, achiest parts of her, but found it impossible, completely helpless underneath him.
Now there truly was no escape, and it should have terrified her, but nothing like terror came. Her quickening heartbeat and buzzing thoughts only made her body more responsive and her anticipation deeper. Damien’s control of her was complete, arcana irrelevant, and perhaps it was mad that she had allowed this, that she trusted anyone this much, and that the someone who held her captive was a blood mage who had promised to punish her, but Amma had never felt more secure.
Damien was the darkest shadow in the dimly lit room as he dipped his head beside hers, lips caressing the shell of her ear. “I’m pained by what you’re forcing me to do to you, my sweet Ammalie, but I do appreciate how easy you make yourself to deceive when you’re aroused.”
“Deceive?” Her contented grin faltered.
“I know, it’s not very nice, deception,” he said, hand cupping the side of her face and thumb running over her bottom lip, “but you should remember what I told you when we first met: I’m not very nice.”
“Now you’re the one lying,” she breathed against the pads of his fingers as they trailed back over her lips.
His violet eyes flicked up from her mouth to meet her gaze, and the villainous bite softened right out of them. Damien pressed his mouth to hers then so gently that she forgot she had her wrists bound, barely clothed and trapped beneath him.
