Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(80)

“You’re not just a possession, esclave. I could force you to do this, but I won’t.” He rubbed an unsteady thumb along my bottom lip. “I’m giving you a choice.”

The connection between us strengthened, lengthened. By giving me the choice, he showed he cared as much as he may want to destroy.

The rest of the world ceased to exist. The police didn’t matter. Brax didn’t matter.

Q and I become our entire galaxy, and I revelled in the gift I was about to give him. The gift I was about to give myself.

I dropped off the bed and fell to my knees. Bowing, I splayed my legs like every image I’d seen of a submissive before her master. I bowed further; hair curtained my face as I whispered, “Je suis à toi. Fuck me, master, act out your fantasies. Hurt me. Debase me. Make me yours.” Every word I uttered turned on a power inside unlike any other. The fact I willingly gave myself to him, to do whatever he wanted, unlocked new dimensions I’d been too chicken-shit to visit. I needed this as much as he did.

Q unfolded himself from the bed, positioning himself in front of me. His breathing grew harsh and thick, chest pumping with exertion. He stroked my hair before fisting it, jerking my eyes to meet his. Everything about him smouldered: eyes, mouth, body. I could’ve come just with the pheromones he shot into the air.

“You’ve made your choice. You can’t take it back. I take you up on your offer, esclave.” He pulled me upright by my hair. My scalp screamed, and I winced, holding onto his hands.

When I stood, he said, “You can scream. You can cry. But I give you my promise I’ll stop if you say the safe word.”

“What’s the safe word?” I didn’t need to ask. I smiled crookedly.

Together, we murmured, “Sparrow.”

With another look, singeing my soul, we signed our bargain. Q swelled with dominance and I burned with power of my own. A power I didn’t have a name for—power over Q.

“You’re mine tonight.” Q kissed my cheek.

“Yes,” I breathed, and just like that, I became Q’s whore. His doting, willing, eager little whore.

Q vibrated with unbridled sexuality as he grabbed my hand and carted me from the room. I followed my drunken master down the rich corridor and up a set of private stairs only visible behind a wall panel.

Circular steps led up and up, until Q pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked a medieval looking door.

He practically threw me inside, before slamming it, and locking it with the same key.

Eyes widened as I took in the cylindrical room. It would’ve been a tower, if the additions to the manor over the years hadn’t evolved and hidden it from view. It reeked of masculinity—a dark undertone sending hot need through my veins.

A massive white rug rested in front of a ginormous fireplace. It was so big, I could’ve stood inside and not reached the mantle. Weapons and ancient paintings covered the walls, along with a bed three times the size of any other.

Q’s domain.

The décor screamed hunter; an insight into his wishes, desires to ravage and ruin. The huge room announced how much he loved to control and dominate. He brought me here to do anything he wanted. How many other girls have been in his space?

I scowled, ignoring those thoughts. Tonight was about Q and I. Past and future didn’t belong in this exquisite present.

Sitting at the end of the monstrous black coveted bed was a mirrored chest. Studded with silver rivets, it reflected my tussled hair and trembling form.

My heart raced, absorbing so much at once.

Q came up behind and slapped my ass. “Stand in the centre of the room.” The scent of alcohol warned Q’s inhibitions were completely gone. Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed until he was sober.

When I didn’t move, Q grabbed my throat, sending arcs of fear and want through me. “Obey, esclave.”

He let me go and I scampered to the centre of the room. My feet sank into thick, silver-white strands of the carpet. Facing the magnificent fireplace, I noticed carvings of foxes hunted by hounds, and deer impaled on spikes. At first glance, it was pretty and fanciful. But when studied, it writhed with hunger to kill and maim.

A sliver of terror darted down my back; I looked behind for Q. He stood by the wall, pulling on a lever.

Tinkling sounded from above, and I craned my neck as chains with leather cuffs descended.

My throat closed. He wanted to restrain me like he had in the sparrow room. Panic flared, turning my heated blood into a volcanic eruption.

Q’s hot form pressed behind mine. I trembled as he rubbed his erection against my ass. “Put your hands up, esclave.”

I agreed to do anything he wanted, but I didn’t have the courage to go through this again. All I could think about was the Russian and his knife.

Shaking my head, I whimpered, “I’ll do anything but this.”

He sucked in a harsh breath. “You’re disobeying?” His tone held nightmares. “I’ll punish you if you don’t put your arms up immediately.”

I bit my lip. The force of the command buckled me, and I slowly raised my arms. Everything Q was about to do would put my entire mind set to the test. I would either fall head long into love, or break completely. I wanted this to hurt. I wanted to feel every inch. I wanted to remember it for the rest of my life. And if it meant tying me up again, so be it. Perhaps it would replace the memories of the Russian and his knife, just like Q replaced the rape with himself and the shower.