“Sin,” he breathed.
She met his eyes, staring at her as if she was everything he ever needed, as if everything he’d said was true.
His hand reached down, thumb caressing her clit as he kept his steady pace. She cried out, but not loud enough to miss his words against her lips before he kissed her with everything he had.
“I love you.”
III
Incendium
Sin
Thunder shattered the night outside the castle, echoing the sharp clicks of Sin’s crystal stilettos. Max lay bound to the bed, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths as she moved closer.
Sin paused by the edge of the bed, the room darkened except for the flashes of lightning that lit her silhouette—a goddess of merciless intent. Max held his breath, straining to catch the faintest sound. She let the silence settle.
The anticipation was a weapon, and she wielded it without mercy. She could feel his heartbeat quicken with every second that stretched, the fear carving lines into his expression, the tension tightening his body, struggling to keep his eyes closed without the blindfold. This was, after all, the best part. The control she could wield over his mind, and not just their bond.
With a slow movement, she raised the dragon tail whip—thin, braided leather ending in a serpentine curl—and in the electric stillness, she moved. The whip sliced through the air, the crack of it splitting the silence like lightning, leaving behind a rippling echo. Max’s body jerked, a reflexive flinch as a shiver rushed over his skin. His fingers curled, his wrists straining lightly against the restraints, as he fought to contain the flood of instinctive reaction.
Sin smiled broadly with triumph. The power she wielded lay not in the chains, not even in the flogger, but in that split-second shudder—the vulnerability she could draw from him with nothing but a sound.
It had been a few weeks since Sin started meeting secretly with the Maitresse, the dominant who stole Sin’s attention at the ball. A few weeks since she started spending her nights in an old familiar way, learning in secret.
There wasn’t much she could do with her magic being sealed, but that didn’t stop her from learning the incantations, refreshing her memory on Vhaevari, ensuring that the moment her powers freed, she would become unstoppable.
And she had Max by her side.
The thought of hurting him terrified Sin, unable to rationalize not wanting to see him in pain, while her blood heated at the thought of marking him, of seeing him broken before she made him rise from the ashes.
Sin expressed these fears aloud to the Maitresse, even with Max in the room. She didn’t want to turn into the monster she dreads, the monster the world will only ever expect her to become. A witch of tempestum, the worst witch of their kind, always evil.
The Maitresse had handed her the whip with a reminder: “Awareness and hesitation is what separates you from the monsters.” Sin tightened her grip, reminding herself to focus on every reaction from Max, each breath, every twitch—reading him like the Maitresse taught her, making sure she didn’t lose herself in the power. And if she felt disconnected, unable to recognize anything other than her lust, that’s when she needed to stop.
Flashbacks of Sin learning ropes, suspending the pillow marked with targets, focusing on learning where to strike for pain that is still pleasurable.
Though weeks was not enough time. The last thing Sin wanted was to rip him apart because of her lack of experience.
Tonight, the crack of the whip had served its purpose to properly induce the fear she craved.
The Maitresse offered to have an outfit tailored to Sin, to match her crystal stilettos that were now free of enchantments. But Sin refused. Those stilettos were all she needed, donning nothing else. The first time she came out like that, Max waiting on her, he showered her with compliments, promising to buy her the finest jewels to accentuate her body.
One day, she was going to hold him to that promise. Not now, when they didn’t want to gain the attention of the king.
Her skin pebbled as she surveyed him, naked and bound. Sin’s fingers traced his chest, leaning close to him, feather-light touches teasing the sensitive spots just below his collarbone, her breath warm against his skin. His chest rose and fell faster, his breath hitching, a quiet whimper escaping his lips when her hand slid lower, dangerously close to his cock but never touching.
“Thank you,” she whispered, letting her lips barely graze his ear.
“What for?” he asked as his brow furrowed.
Lightning struck again, and thunder made the walls vibrate as she brought the flogger down on his thighs. With a flick of her wrist, the metal chains flashed within the many leather straps.
Masculine grunts filled the air, deep and guttural, sending a thrill through her body. With another figure-eight motion, Sin leaned forward, her tongue tracing the raised welts on his meaty thighs. Max let out a strangled moan, the sound trembling with both pain and pleasure, almost enough to make her lose herself entirely in the moment, to end it all right then, too soon.
His scaled cock stood at attention, the skin tight, revealing rows of veins beneath each ridge that had Sin’s pussy throbbing with need.
“Such a perfect Little Prince,” she crooned, though there was nothinglittleabout him. “Do you deserve to be rewarded?”
