I gasped for air, even as my hips rocked into his fingers. Wordlessly, he drew circles over me, withholding oxygen in exchange for more and more pleasure.
Black dots danced over my vision. My hand above his cock twisted, searching for anything that may aid my fruitless attempt to breathe again.
Dray loosened his grip, and air flooded into my lungs. I drew ragged breaths, and the Reaper’s tease at my core never ceased.
“You forget your place,” he said. “I give you everything. The last food your mouth will ever taste. Each roll of pleasure through your body. The air in your lungs. Next time you think of another while I touch you, remember you’ll have to beg for your next breath.”
Anger popped inside my chest. He didn’t own me, as much as the chains around my wrists suggested otherwise. The King ordered my death, but he didn’t control my body before then.
I thrashed in Dray’s arms and tried to draw my knees up. My hair whipped over his face, but the Reaper only laughed at me.
He shifted our bodies forward, trapping my weight on my neck in his hands. The angle kept my legs spread wide and my clit atop his fingers. He squeezed my neck again, eliciting that mixture of fear and pleasure that only heightened the growing need between my legs.
“Never try to close your legs to me. All you have is mine.”
Dray sped his touch against my clit, and any remaining fight slipped away. The anger still coiled inside me, but the bindings on my wrists and his control over my body kept it restrained, impossible to exercise.
He squeezed away my air until my head felt like bursting, then relaxed his grip, over and over again, while the pleasure at my center stretched higher and higher. Eventually, all thoughts faded, and I existed only in a war between surviving and coming.
The crest collapsed, spiraling waves of pleasure through my body, rocking me even harder into the Reaper. He didn’t loosen his grip, depriving me of air even as he awarded me the greatest enjoyment.
I wanted to curse myself for liking his touch. But as his merciless fingers continued to rub me, and another burst of fiery orgasm broke through my body, I couldn’t form the thoughts.
My body surrendered to his tight embrace. The light faded from my eyes.
Dray relaxed his grip, but unconsciousness already pulled me under. He tenderly leaned my head against his shoulder. The warmth of his palm on my forehead became the last touch I felt as sleep summoned me.
I’ll make sure I’m the only monster you’ll ever want, Elys.
I feared he may be right.
Chapter Six
Night had settled again for several hours before we finally reached the Keep. Great stone walls towered over us as we neared the settlement. Lanterns flickered along the top, and shadows danced as guards paced overhead. The floral aromas faded, replaced by the sharp scent of mud, horses, and sweat.
Shouts spread, and a gate opened to allow us entrance between the barricades. A courtyard peeked inside, exposing barren dirt ground and racks of weapons pressed along one side.
The Curse Catchers returned the shouts with whoops of victory. We funneled through the gate, no longer at the back of the crowd, but pressed in the middle with the others. Some men dismounted and stableboys took the horses through a different exit at the rear of the fortress.
I studied the walls while we rode. Only two gates in or out, heavily watched by several guards, and controlled from somewhere inside the walls. Escape would prove difficult, assuming I’d even get free of these shackles and the man who watched me.
In the far back, a rounded section of the fortress bubbled outward. A golden throne perched at the top to stare down at the courtyard. I tracked the throne’s viewpoint.
The center of the half circle held a thick chunk of wood with a dip in the center. Long cuts in the material marked several bites of a blade.
Bile crept up my stomach. The executioner’s block. My final resting place.
Dray turned to where I looked. He stiffened at the sight, but said nothing.
The softened tread of horse hooves against dirt sounded beside us. Alvah trotted up, Zaylee’s rope still fixed to his mount. Dirt and grime covered her flushed face. She’d walked the entire trip.
“Not this way.” Dray glanced at the woman attached to the horse. “She’s going to Elemur.”
Zaylee stiffened at the word, and Alvah’s brow creased. “The torture wing again?”
“They brought in an interrogator from over the Pass. A lie-sifter this time,” Dray said.
Lie Sifters were rare, able to tell the difference between a truth or an untruth. Rumors said they could draw information from one’s lips whether or not they wanted to give it.
