He cleared his throat, burning a hole into me with the intensity of his gaze. “I wanted a room that symbolized us. The cage is a promise.” His body tensed, drawing need from me to him, building rapidly until my heart flurried. “You said you’d let me do this once. I’m hoping you won’t refuse.”
He captured my cheeks with harsh fingers, reminding me he might’ve been gentle and kind the last few weeks, but he wasn’t truly that man. He’d kept the anger, the darkness away from me, carefully guarding whatever thoughts he entertained. “I told you I couldn’t let you into my bed again until I was able to see past what happened. You know I need someone strong, unbroken, courageous.”
I nodded, my pulse thudding thickly in my veins.
“I see the old Tess. For the first time in weeks, when you looked at me, I saw her. And I want her. So f**king much.” He crashed his mouth against mine, sending my need for him spiralling out of control.
He broke the kiss, growling. “I need to be inside you, but I need to do something else first.”
I breathed shallowly, trying to figure out what he wanted. “I’ll give you whatever you ask.”
His mouth twisted as his pale eyes glowed with darkness. “Is that the truth, esclave? Would you give up your life for me? Would you let me whip you? String you up and bring you completely into my world?”
I couldn’t stop a conflict of emotions filling me. The old Tess, the one who got off on pain wanted everything Q offered. But this gentler Tess—the one who’d killed and hurt—wanted nothing to do with blood or screams for the rest of her life.
But it didn’t matter. I knew my answer. “Yes. I would.”
Q kissed me fiercely, darting his tongue into my mouth, making me drink his need and passion. Whatever he was about to ask meant a lot to him. I could taste it.
“You’re mine, Tess, but you’ve never been a true submissive. Somehow, you give me everything you can, all the while keeping everything out of reach. You drive me f**king insane, and that’s why I need to do this.”
“You don’t need my permission.” My voice dropped to a husky whisper; my core clenched at the thought of him tying me up and f**king me. I needed to connect. I needed him inside me. “You already have it.”
He opened his arms and I curled into his embrace. For a man who’d never hugged before, he held me often. He didn’t hold me with just love, though. He held me with possession, aggression, obsession.
Q pulled away, his jaw tight. “This will hurt. But you’ve given me your word.”
Fear replaced the love in my heart as Q gave me one last look before heading to the fireplace. With a click, the gas caught, and eager flames sprouted into being. Resting on the mantle were two long pokers.
Q picked one up, returning to me with it in his outstretched hands. “Take it.”
I cursed my trembling, but took the pole, turning it to see the emblem at the bottom. The instant I saw it, I remembered what I’d promised. That Q could scar my skin to put his mind at rest. That he could mark me so he’d always know I was his.
I ran my fingers over the sigil. “Oh.”
Q froze, bristling with black energy, restraining himself from desires I didn’t comprehend. After what happened in the gold and red room, he wore his edginess, his temper, like a cloak. I didn’t know how badly I’d damaged him, but even while he was being gentle and considerate, he lurked in the shadows, living in a place I didn’t know if I could find.
The emblem was a capital Q with a sparrow swooping toward the ground as the tail of the letter.
My eyes flashed to his, drowning in his gaze.
His shoulders bunched as he brushed away hair from my neck, running his thumb along the scar left from the tracker.
“I want to brand you. I need to have something of mine permanently on your skin.” He bent his head to press a kiss on the scar. “I need to know you’re mine.”
“I am yours. You know that.”
He shook his head, echoing unhappiness in his eyes. “You were going to leave me. I had to give you my life to make you stay. I need to see you’re mine every time I look at you. Every time someone else looks at you, I need them to know you’re taken. Call it barbaric and horrific and tell me I’m a selfish fuck-up, but, Tess, I need this. I can’t come back to you otherwise.”
I didn’t wait another second. If he needed this simple thing, so be it. I wanted it, too.
Pushing the poker into his hands, I said, “Do it. It would be the highest honour to wear your mark.”
His jaw worked as if he held back a huge weight of emotion. His pale eyes glittered. “Je te remercie du fond de mon cœur.” Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Together we walked to the fireplace. My pulse pumped faster as he placed the brand in the flames.
His fingers squeezed mine as he reached for another poker and passed it to me. I took it as tears sprang to my eyes.
This one had a capital T with a birdcage hanging from it. A pure symbol that I’d captured him completely.
I stared deep into his eyes. “Are you sure?”
He shook his head gently, stealing the pole, placing it in the flames beside the other one. “You shouldn’t have to ask me that, esclave.”
My throat closed, and we didn’t say a word as the metal went from matte black to glowing red.
Q let me go to disappear into the bathroom. He came back with salve and medical patches for afterward.
My skin flushed thinking how painful it would be, but I stopped the thought. After everything I’d endured, a burn wouldn’t scare me.
Once everything was laid out, Q turned to me, pointing at the floor. “Kneel.”
I did as he asked, kneeling before the man who owned my heart and soul. The master of me completely. With concentration etching his eyes and his lips pursed tight, Q lifted the hot poker, and with no hesitation, pressed it hard and fast against my neck.
The searing, scorching heat made my eyesight black out for a second, and the sickening sound of my skin hissing almost made me retch. But then it was over, and Q tossed the poker back into the fire.
Immediately, he grabbed the medical supplies and applied antiseptic cream then the bandage.
I daren’t look in his eyes as he tended to me. I could taste his eagerness, his sublime joy at what he’d just done.
I wanted to see. I wanted to look in a mirror and inspect what marked me permanently as his, but Q stood and gathered the other poker. Kneeling in front of me, he offered the handle. I stood slowly upright.
Biting my lip, I shuddered with the thought of causing him yet more pain. Can I really do this? My own neck thundered with agony, cauterized and stinging.
With strong, sure fingers, Q unbuttoned his white shirt. Once spread wide, giving glimpses of sparrows and barbwire, he traced his fingers over his heart.
“This belongs to you, Tess. Brand me there so you’ll also know.”
My stomach rolled at the thought of burning him, but I tensed my muscles and angled the glowing symbol above his heart.
Q pushed his chest out, curling his fists on his thighs. “Fast and hard, esclave.”
I nodded and lunged. The symbol melted through his skin in a second. The smell of acrid hair singeing filled the room. A second later I withdrew, relinquishing the terrible brand back into the fire.
Q grunted as he stood and his shirt swung forward, sticking to the raw skin. I twirled around to collect the salve and bandages, before tending to Q. Pushing his shirt gently off his shoulders, I winced.
He never took his eyes off me as I massaged the cooling balm onto his wound. The design was flawless, every bar of the cage etched deep into his flesh; the T a perfect feminine cursive.
Tears fell unbidden as I covered up the mark, sticking the bandage into place.
He’d given me himself. Forever.
Q pulled me into his arms. “Already I can feel the darkness coming back to life. Knowing you’re mine. That you willingly gave me your pain once again.” He buried his nose in my hair, inhaling deep. “I thought I’d lost that urge. Lost that part of myself.”
I didn’t need to ask what part Q had lost. I always knew he lived with demons in his soul.
Q shifted, walking me backward to the bed. The mattress no longer rested on the floor—it had been designed as a miniature cage. Hanging from the ceiling with bars and chains. Swags of material cocooned the space like a perfect trap—a trap to keep us safe together.
“I want you,” Q murmured, his fingers already working my blouse buttons. Everything jolted to life. I leaned into him, rubbing my n**ples against his knuckles.
He sucked in a breath, pushing aside the material to cup my bra-covered breast.
My hands went to his bare chest, inching down to his belt. He waited while I undid the buckle, pulling the leather free. His chest rose and fell as I held the leather in my hands.
His tension, awareness all sprang to high alert, and I saw the man I’d thought I’d killed when I whipped him to an inch of his life.
Q, my master, wanted to use his belt. And I wanted him to.
With a wistful plea in my eyes and love exploding in my heart, I presented the belt with outstretched hands.
Chapter 25
I long to see your creamy skin blush, welted and marked gives me a rush, I can’t contain him, you set me free…
I didn’t know how long I stared at Tess.
She stood there, holding my belt, giving it to me with such trust in her eyes that the last of the horrible confusion I’d been living with unravelled.
The old me. The me I knew and thought I’d lost forever, roared back into being. After weeks of living with such crippling disorientation, I thought I’d forever be doomed to live monsterless and alone.
The dark urges inside had gone, taking with it everything I knew. It was as if the beast had left me to wallow in pitiful loneliness.
I snatched the belt from her. Shuddering, I ran the leather through my fingers. The blackness swirled into being, bringing with it growls and bestial callings. I should’ve been glad they’d left me alone. But I found I missed it. I missed knowing who I was. I wasn’t meant to be normal. I wasn’t meant to be…human.
Tess shifted, her br**sts rising. I swallowed hard against thick desire.
For three weeks, I’d avoided all thoughts of sex. I couldn’t stand the thought of being close to Tess when I no longer knew myself. I lost something fundamental when Tess stole my dignity, my control, my dominance.
Tess damaged me, and I spent three weeks trying to fix myself.
But not dealing with the monster’s urges allowed me to grow closer to Tess than I’d ever thought possible. I was able to comfort her without needing to squeeze too hard, or let her laugh without having to throw her to the ground and f**k her.
With the absence of those needs, I grew to see myself in a different light. I saw that I could be sweet—amazing to contemplate—and I could do it without cutting off my balls.
I gave Tess space to heal, and she changed from delicate patient to strong survivor. Day by day her passion and spirit came back, and each moment that she grew stronger, my beast inched out of its cave, returning to me, slightly fearful, slightly unwilling.