Page 14 of Trickery

He snorted. “Don’t you know? Haven’t you heard the rumors?”

“They don’t tell us much.”

“No. I don’t suppose they do.” He blew out a breath. “I’ve been exiled.”

Her heart lurched. For him. Poor thing. She couldn’t imagine being exiled, being forced to live alone in the mortal world.

Well, she could actually. That had been her life before Midea found her. It was terrible. Lonely and cold. Knowing that your life was only a fraction of what it could be.

“What did you do?”

He laughed, a harsh sound. “What didn’t I do? I was willful and undisciplined and rampant.” Yes. That she could believe. “I’ve been banished until I can ‘discover a way to control myself’.” He snorted, pretending disdain, but she knew better. She could feel the pain, the loneliness, skirling in his soul. She reached out and stroked him, aura to aura, essence to essence.

He wrenched away at her soft touch. “Don’t you dare feel pity for me.”

“It’s not pity. It’s understanding.”

“Understanding? How could you possibly comprehend?”

She shook her head. How could she put this into words? This feeling she had? This knowing? “You’re not what they say you are.”

“A beast? A fiend? A savage who takes whatever he wants? Regardless of the consequences? Wicked? Depraved?” He leaned closer, his expression fierce. He wanted to frighten her. He almost frightened her. But only almost. “I am all those things. You’re too young, too innocent to see it.”

“I see clearly.” She could. She could see him. And she sensed she could see him in a way no one else ever had. “You’re not wicked or depraved.”

“You’re wrong.” The conviction hummed through his tone, around him, along the little skeins of his chi, and it confused her because it was at odds with the man she felt when she touched him. It was almost as though he was trying, and desperately so, to be all those things the civilized world deplored. “You’re wrong and I’ll prove it to you.”

He stood in a rush, as though her proximity was a burden he could no longer bear, and strode to the other side of the room. He stood there like a predator in heat studying her, his eyes red-rimmed and filled with intent. Wicked intent.

Her heart skipped a beat and then set up a manic pounding that made her light-headed. What was he going to do?

It began slowly, subtly, like a rising mist. A thick, sinuous pressure surrounded her and grew, encased her in its sheath. Then an invisible hand forced her back, until she lay flat. Of their own accord, her arms moved over her head to cross at her wrists. Her legs spread wide apart.

She shuddered…she tried to shudder. She’d never been this open, this vulnerable, this possessed.

This was a new constraint, a stronger enchantment, far more powerful, far more insidious than his previous binding spell. This one was fueled by his resentment, his discontent. Willow felt it in her bones. Tasted the flavor of his energy as it sizzled and spit.

But the worst of it was the pressure on her throat, the force covering her mouth. She couldn’t move, couldn’t cry out. Couldn’t speak at all. Dread rose in her breast.

He stared at her—powerless and frightened, splayed wide before him. “Do you know what I’m going to do to you?” His voice was like a slithering snake, licking at her, curling around her in sinuous coils.

She tried to shake her head but it wouldn’t move. She was terrified, wracked with fear, but something deep inside her warmed, wriggled. Something deep inside her wanted this. Needed this.

“I’m going to tease you. Torment you. I’m going to bring you to the edge of release again and again until you are desperate for it.” He reached out a finger, standing there, across the room, and stroked her.

Oh Gaia. The rasping tip of his magic scraped her nipple. Even though he wasn’t touching her, it scored her like a flame. He thrust out his arm. She watched in mute horror, mute delight, as streams of sortilege curled from his hand and trailed closer and closer to her bound body. She moaned and squirmed, but to no effect. She was helpless, her legs spread wide, exposed, her nipples thrusting high as the sinuous strands curled closer and closer.

The first one reached her and caressed the skin of her thigh, a tender, gentle caress. The sensation was excruciating. Exquisite and mind-bending and not nearly enough. Then another coil found her, curled around a nipple, tugged. Sensation sliced her. She cried into the gag.

Whatever these were, whatever spell he’d cast, it was more intense than any human touch. Her flesh danced with delight.

And then she stilled, moaned, as a tendril caressed her belly and slipped down, down, to open her. It didn’t touch her there, didn’t lap at her aching clit. It merely held her open, letting the ambient air pucker her damp skin until she wanted to scream.

But ah. He wasn’t finished yet.

Her gaze flew to his as yet another crawling wisp slipped under her thighs and between her cheeks, dabbing at her asshole. His nostrils flared as he tasted her response, her panic, her frustration.

“Ah. You like that, don’t you Willow?” He didn’t wait for a response. Indeed, none was coming.