Braze recognized them for what they were—visual pick-ups—watching devices. They were small, sophisticated, and everywhere. He did a slow turn, cataloging at least five from this vantage point without even trying. If he tore the place apart, he’d likely find a dozen more.
He wished he could blind all these watching eyes—it felt wrong to be scrutinized in what ought to be a private area. But if he did that, they’d never complete this mission. Fuck.
“It’s clear,” he called back to Kaitlyn, his voice rough. “Safe to enter.”
“Oh, good.” Kaitlyn slipped inside and shut the massive diamond-studded door behind her. The muffled boom of it closing felt strangely final. At last they were alone.
Well, as alone as they could be with a dozen silent, unblinking eyes watching their every move, Braze thought dryly.
“Fuck,” he muttered, aloud this time.
The weight of their performance felt like a lead collar around his neck, but it was immediately crushed under the heavier weight of his earlier transgression. He had really fucked up, sucking Kaitlyn’s nipples in the throne room. And now that they were alone, it was time to ”face the music”—as the humans said.
Braze turned to her. The curvy little human stood just inside the door, looking small and stunningly vulnerable in her gown. Her breasts were still on display—the tight pink nipples still visible. He had the urge to cup them and held himself back. Fuck, what was wrong with him? Was he going to repeat the same transgression all over again?
“Kaitlyn,” he began, the words like gravel in his throat. “About what I did in the throne room…” He forced himself to meet her eyes. “I know I fucked up. I never should have sucked your nipples without asking like that. It was a violation of my oath of Protection—a violation of your trust.”
She went pink, a flush that started at her cheeks and swept down her neck, disappearing into the shadowed valley between her gorgeous, heavy breasts. The sight of that blush traveling over her skin made his cock give another painful throb. A vicious, hungry part of him wished once more he could do it again—wished to feel her tight peaks stiffen under his tongue…to taste her salty-sweet skin until she moaned for him.
What the fuck is wrong with you? he berated himself silently. Wanting to commit the same offense twice? You’re fucking losing it.
But then Kaitlyn surprised him.
“I guess I need to apologize too,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. She looked down at her fingers, which were twisted together. “For… for handling you the way I did when I was, er, mapping you.”
“You couldn’t help that,” Braze pointed out quickly, relief that she wasn’t angry flooding him. “The Mistress of the Wardrobe told you to do it. It was part of the role you’re playing.” He took a step closer, the manacles feeling heavy on his wrists. “And…I’d rather you do it than a stranger. I didn’t want anyone else’s hands on me…Mistress.”
He saw the tension ease from her shoulders, and she looked up, meeting his eyes.
“I was hoping you’d feel that way.” She let out a shaky breath. “I guess while we’re here, we just have to play our roles—otherwise the Empress will never give us the Love Vine.”
“But she’s going to be watching all the time,” Braze said, gesturing subtly with his chin towards the nearest glinting lens in the sconce. “The Mistress of the Wardrobe was right—this place is completely bugged. Visual recording devices everywhere.”
“Which means we’re going to have to be always ‘on,’” Kaitlyn agreed, her gaze following his. She bit her lip, a gesture that was both nervous and distractingly erotic. “I mean, she could be watching us even now, and we’re not exactly acting like a loving couple, are we?”
She moved past him, her feminine scent washing over him, and sat on the large, opulent, black velvet couch. Then she turned and beckoned him with a curl of her fingers.
“Come here…husband.”
Braze came over at once and started to sit beside her—the instinct to protect, to be near—overriding everything else.
But Kaitlyn frowned and shook her head—a slight, decisive motion. Her eyes held his, and in them, he saw not anger, but a determined, nervous calculation. She was clearly getting into her role as his “wife” on this female-led world.
“Kneel,” she ordered and pointed to the thickly carpeted floor at her feet.
The command hit Braze like a physical blow, straight to his groin. His cock surged so hard he actually saw stars for a second.
A vivid, unbidden memory flashed—his old Mistress, in her silken robes, pointing to the floor between her spread thighs.
“Kneel, Beast. Your mouth has a better use than speaking. You’re going to lick me until I come at least twice.”
The memory was tangled with shame and a dark, undeniable thrill. It reminded Braze of the male concubine they’d seen servicing the Empress in the throne room.
He didn’t hesitate for a moment—he sank to his knees on the plush charcoal rug, the fluid movement bringing him to rest facing Kaitlyn as she sat regally on the couch. She parted her legs, a deliberate, inviting gesture, and he move forward on his knees until he was nestled in the vee of her thighs, close enough to feel her body heat surrounding him.
“Good—that’s very good,” she murmured, and he felt the praise like the softest caress.
Then her fingers were in his hair. They slid through the long, coarse strands, massaging his scalp and tracing the shell of his ear.
