Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(108)

There was no room for question. She forced her free hand away from her chest, letting the covering drop from her breasts. It instantly fell to settle about her waist, pooling in her lap. Her gaze followed the chemise down, dropping from his. Her breasts rose pale and firm; the pink marks of the wax had faded and only a single scratch marked her. Temple’s mark.

Stephan reached out with his free hand and traced the line. Her eyes darted up to his face, his lips had tensed, but he said nothing. With the hand locked about her wrist he pulled her from the bed so that she stood before him. The chemise completed its journey and dropped to the floor. Her gaze dropped back down, sudden shyness filling her.

He had seen her naked before, but she had been caught up in passion at the time, swept away by the fire in his gaze. Now she was returned to shyness and modesty.

“Look at me, Bliss.” Again he spoke with absolute command and authority.

Her gaze lifted slowly, up his bare legs, past the hem of his green robe, across broad chest and wide shoulders, along the column of his neck, the rugged chin, faintly marked with stubble, over the pressed lips, until finally she met his flashing blue eyes. They shone with heat despite his cold demeanor. “Yes, my lord.”

His lips twitched. He’d clearly heard the satire that marked her tone.

“Keep looking straight ahead. Step forward.”

She did as directed, desire coiling deep in her belly, her bare feet padding on the cool wood floor. The embarrassment was still there, but want and need began to overcome it—and power. With each glance of his heated gaze she could feel herself grow, feel herself become more.



“Another step.”

Again her feet moved. She relaxed, letting herself sink into his direction.

“Where are your pearls, Bliss?” His voice wafted about her, soft, seductive, but his words caused her to freeze.

Her emotions landed like a rock. “Why do you want them?”

“I would like to play with them. Do I need to say more?”

Her desire to please warred with the memories the pearls always awoke within her. “I do not like the pearls.”

“Where are they, Bliss?”

“On the top of my dresser, by the mirror. They are put away in a purple silk bag,” she answered, but did not try to contain the displeasure in her voice.

Stephan didn’t say anything as he walked to the dresser and lifted the large, heavy bag and brought it to the bed. In a single motion he upended it and endless feet of pearls spilled out upon the coverlet. He slipped one finger under the long strand and lifted it. The pearls shimmered in the candlelight, pieces of the moon shining softly. He pulled the strand and it slithered over the coverlet before falling free. He had to lift his arm so that they would not trail on the floor. He walked toward her, holding the strand out. “Why do you dislike them so? They are almost as exquisite as you.”

Her eyes dropped. He had demanded honesty and she could give him no less. “They were my mother’s.”



“Tell me more,” his voice commanded.

“Every time I look at them I remember her and I do not want to remember. Every time I wear them I feel like she is with me.”

“And that is not a good thing? You’ve said that you loved your mother and she loved you. I would think you would like the reminder.” He moved his hands, letting the pearls play between his fingers.

She turned her cheek away. “But she is not with me. That is what I always come back to. My mother died and left me. I want her, not some silly piece of frippery.” The tears of earlier threatened again.

“I know you do. That is why you have been angry all these years.”

“Nobody ever understands that. Do you know how many times I have been told I am lucky to have such a treasure? That I should be grateful to own such a wonder? I don’t want them. I never wanted them. I only wanted her.”

“Shhh, I do understand. And I am sure that she wanted to be there for you.”

“Then why did she leave me?” The words came out a plaintive cry and Bliss wished she could pull them back into her.

Stephan was silent. He lifted the pearls and placed them against her cheek. She braced herself; they were always cold and heavy when she put them on, but now they brushed against her, warm from his skin.

He rolled them back and forth. “I am sure she did not want to leave you, that she would have done anything in her power to stay. Can you not think of them as a gift from her?”

“That is not enough.” She knew she sounded ungrateful, and frankly ridiculous, standing here naked, being rubbed by pearls and complaining that her mother had left her all those years ago.



“I know it is not enough, Bliss. But you must let go of the anger. It is keeping you from living as you are meant to live.” He rolled the pearls one more time, but this time it was his fingers that caressed her, that ran down her cheek, her neck, her arm.

“You mean living as a Danser, full of fun and life.” There was bitterness in her voice.

“No, Bliss. I mean living as yourself, no pretense. Just let it all go and be yourself, be the woman I see, the woman fighting to be free. Give her the choice, do not keep her trapped with your anger and despair. Give her hope.”

“I don’t know if I can.” The words were so quiet it was hard even for her to hear them.