Had my words made it past his defenses?
A slight wave of his hand, the cage door unlocked and eased open with a whisper of hinges that dared to squeak in warning.
Without looking back at me, he spoke calmly. “You think her favor protects you?”
Looking at the open door with a healthy dose of suspicion, hesitation kept me fromimmediatelymoving forward.
“Only as much as this cage does,” I responded in anearwhisper.
He huffed out what may have been a laugh.
Turning from the window, he walked over to an armchair positioned nearby. The chair itself looked like something out of a castle. The upholstery consisted of various shades of dark reds with golden threads creating a subtle floral pattern.
It looked unforgiving and uncomfortable until he sank into it. Something about the way he took upthe spacewith such ease suggested he had found his dominion there. One might have believed it was a throne he had ruled from for a lifetime.
The set of his body, broad shoulders squared and back set straight, told a story of a god whowasn’teasily challenged. Each movement he made while he sat there was unhurried, like he had all the time in the world. Fingers worked his shirt cuffs open, rolling each side to his elbows with precise movements. The colors of his tattoos on his corded forearms contrasted against the stark white of his shirt.
His muscled thighs spread apart, not just for comfort but to communicate what type of rule he wanted over me. My eyes were drawn to the apex of his inseam, the bulge and shape of him on shameless display.
When my eyes eventually forced themselves to stop staring, my gaze moved upward to see that the same message his body gave off in waves was also saturatinghis eyes.
Lust, even when darkened by circumstances, had the same familiar sheen to it in one’s sights.It’swhat I saw in Eryx’s pools of onyx that had dilated enough to leave the faintest ring of chocolate around them.
“Crawl to me.” A command not to bedisobeyed,the words were spoken with the hardness of diamonds and grit of sandpaper.
If he wanted to revel in conflict,I’dgive him none, so all he had left was the raw feeling of what lay beneath his self-inflicted wounds.
Swallowing pride in the name of a greater cause, finding whatever damaged heart he had left, I lowered myself to my hands and knees. A wave of humiliation washed over me, and there was no sash wrapped in ancient lore to account for my actions.
His eyebrow twitched, the onlyindicationthat my compliance had taken him by surprise. The rest of himremained asstill as a statue with unnerving patience.
Keeping my eyes locked on his, I moved one hand and one knee forward. Then,theother hand, the other knee.
Arriving at his feet, I glanced down at his shoes, polished with enough shine that my distorted reflection stared back up at me. There, I saw the wide eyes of a woman who was uncertain of her future. Saw a goddess questioning her abilities. I saw a glimpse of who he saw meas,his littleHeartspite.
Moisture welled in my eyes, bringing the blue of my eyes to life with the brightness of the clearest oceans.
I looked up at him, finding no pity and nosoftness in his gaze. Instead, just a visceral hunger older than the birthing of titans.
Every pound of my heart in my chest echoed louder in my ears as westaredeach other down, waiting for the other to make the next move.
Finally, he curled two fingers in a gesture for me to come closer.
“Up here,” he instructed. “Over my lap.”
Sitting back on my ankles for a moment, I gathered my courage and rose on legs that threatened to buckle beneath me.
After positioning myself with stiff movements, I lay across his lap in a position of vulnerability that tugged reluctantly at an ache deep in my core.
“Like this?” I glanced back at him over my shoulder, one hand clutching onto the armrest and the other weakly holding onto the top of his calf.
Crack!
No warning. His palm connected with my backside, and heat bloomed across my ass, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. It drew a shrill gasp from me, momentarilyrenderingme unable to breathe.
“Does my hand feel like a god who can show mercy?” He growled the words out, indicative of his barely leashed control.
I whimpered, my hands clawing at the rough material of the armchair. Pressed against my stomach, his arousal grew more insistent. My thighs pressed together, trying toease my own neediness that steadily increased despite everything.
