Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
And Henri made me apologise to him.
For show.
I’d seen how much it cut him to do it.
How much his pain matched mine.
That was the only reason I wasn’t a mess.
Why I could hold my chin high and not cry.
He loves me.
My heart squeezed.
We’d found love in hell.
We’d made a pact against the devil.
I can do this.
He won’t hurt me.
Not really.
And if he did…well…
I swallowed hard, still not comfortable with the admission.
I’ll…probably enjoy it.
Standing taller in my binds, I found Henri’s eyes and lost myself in his churning grey-dark depths.
Victor had left to join Rachel on the bed. His attention only on her.
It was just me and Henri.
Just us in this despicable world.
We stared for far too long, both of us waiting for the other to make the first move.
With a grimace, Henri shook his head and looked down at the whip in his hands.
I shifted where I stood, bound to the cross. The chain and its hook jangled, sending a wash of the same delicious, dangerous awareness through me. I’d felt it last night when I’d gone pliant beneath him.
Playing the captive.
Relinquishing my power.
It’d done something to me.
It’d done something to him.
He’d infected me with his dark disease, and I couldn’t hate him for it. How could I hate him when he made me feel so alive, so in-tune, so sensitive?
His face darkened as time ticked past.
His chest rose and fell, his breathing shallow and harsh.
His knuckles whitened around the whip as he fell back into memories.
No…
Stay with me.
You have to stay with me.
I cleared my throat loudly; the noise wrenched his eyes back to mine.
He froze.
I shrugged. It’s okay…
Rocking backward on his heels, he reacted as if he’d heard me.
All those warnings I’d read of twin flames being graced with almost telepathic abilities didn’t seem so crazy anymore.
You need to do this. I arched my chin at Rachel, making Henri look over his shoulder. Victor had stripped and shackled her, spread-eagled on the bed.
Henri tore his eyes away, his throat flexing as he swallowed hard.
I felt no jealousy that he’d slept with her. No complicated possession or pain. Just needling determination to get through today so I could take him to the kitchens and tell him everything.
Henri… I jangled my cuffs, getting his attention. Do it. Do it now.
Sighing heavily, he wiped his face with a shaking hand.
I knew why he struggled.
Why he hesitated.
He probably thought I was mad to suggest doing this. To willingly taunt the darkness in him, but…he was the only one who could ensure Victor stayed lazy and content. We couldn’t have him scouring the video feeds. Couldn’t have him being suspicious.
Our entire plan hinged on Victor not questioning why maids suddenly hid things under beds or why the orders for cleaning supplies had increased or why the recycling shed didn’t hold as many bottles.
Henri was the key to keeping Victor happy.
So…please make him happy.
Dropping his hand, he gave me the saddest smile.
Then his jaw clenched, his face hardened, and he spread his legs as if he was about to go to war.
Oh God.
This is it.
My ass heated, remembering the punishment of his palm as he spanked me by the pond.
I hadn’t been prepared for the aching desire his hand had caused.
Would this be the same or—
My core clenched as Henri suddenly flicked his wrist and sent the whip and its nasty forked tongue licking through the air. He didn’t aim at me.
Practicing.
Most likely remembering.
His first swat looked a little shaky, his second a bit stronger, his third smoother, and his fourth—the sharp snap as it cracked—echoed loudly in the torture chamber.
Well, fuck me…
Dressed all in black with unreadable eyes and perfect mastery over such a violent weapon…he was stunning.
Beyond stunning.
Diabolical.
I melted.
My insides turned to liquid.
My adrenaline switched to arousal.
Terrible, tempting, treacherous arousal.
Victor glanced over. “Nice crack, mon ami.” His eyes narrowed. “You said you’ve never used a whip before?”
Henri had a hard time looking away from me. His voice sounded like smouldering volcanic ash. “Pure novice, but…I watch things.”
Victor’s forehead furrowed. “Just like you watch MMA and somehow became a killing machine?”
“Something like that.”
“Hmm.” Victor sniffed. “It took me weeks to master the art of cracking a whip. Either you’re very humble or you’re lying.”
Henri stiffened. “You know I’m descended from Quincy Mercer the First. I witnessed him playing. One of his favourite toys was a bullwhip.” He swallowed hard before admitting, “And I may have had a few swats myself, now and again.”
“He taught you?” Victor lost all his tension, a slow smile crossing his face. “In that case…carry on. I’ve always thought Mercer the First and I would’ve gotten on quite well. It’s fun watching you step into his shoes.”
Henri didn’t respond.
Victor returned to Rachel, stripping off his jumper and grabbing a few silver clamps from a nearby rack.
Henri turned back to me; the whip coiled like a sleeping serpent on the floor. With a flick, he cracked it again.