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He was my husband. At the beginning, before I was turned. He died during the War of...during the Civil War.
"The War of Southern Independence." He picked it up from her mind and managed to win a painful twitch from her tempting lips. "I am southern, my lady. Alabama born and bred. My grandparents preferred calling it the War of Northern Aggression." He beefed up the drawl to make her smile a little more, but the infusion of warmth was such a contrast to the other emotions she was fighting, it undermined her further. A sob caught her so he slid an arm around her waist, bent and nuzzled her throat, nudging her chin out of his way so she had to drop her head back. He suckled the major artery pumping beneath the skin, teased her with the tip of his tongue, his other hand cupping her elbow, sliding along the tender skin of her stretched and bound arm.
"Those bastards who had you tied down? What happened to them?"
He raised his head to meet her gaze, soldier-to-soldier. It beat acting on what he actually felt, a testosterone-driven rage to hunt every one of them down as if that could eradicate what had happened to her.
Long dead, not by my hand. I was a Confederate spy. They captured me. Her chin set, even though her lips were trembling.
"They held you helpless, took what they wanted." He let his hand slide all the way up to her fingertips, then he moved there, kissed her knuckles, her wrist above and below the cuff, started working his way down. He spread out his palm on her abdomen, a solid touch there, moved the other behind her, cupped her bottom, slowly kneaded as he nuzzled and nipped at her arm, making her jerk and tremble.
"I don't know what you're doing," her voice quavered.
"Reminding you of the difference. Yes, you're caught, my lady. You're at my mercy. That's where the comparison ends."
You make me feel...helpless.
He lifted his head, stared at her. "Like they did?"
She shook her head. "No."
"Good." The anger in his gut eased. "Then don't let me see you get that shit confused again." He bared his teeth in a wicked smile. "Or I'll let you go. Take you out for dinner, and have some nice, safe vanilla sex with lots of cuddling afterward."
Her gaze warmed with a variety of responses. Gratitude, intrigue, relief. As well as other things that turned his world on his axis as much as he was doing to hers.
"You're mean."
"You have no idea," he managed. "Trip my sadist trigger, baby, and I'll make you regret it. There will be flowers. Candy. Kenny G."
Her eyes glowed even brighter. He slid his hand down over her mound and cupped her, rubbing his thumb over her clit and making her squirm in the bonds. Her lips parted as she absorbed the arousal, letting it mix with the sorrow, fear and memory, balance it once again. She might be a tossing ship, but she refused to be sunk.
With relief, he saw that, despite the horror of such memories, she didn't view herself as a victim, had never viewed herself that way. Normally that was the most crippling obstacle to getting over such a thing. She'd acted against men like her captors in wartime, used information to turn the tide of battles that might have killed their friends, other family members. Their punishment beyond capture had been motivated by rage. The dark sadism all men carried in them had been goaded, demons brought to life by hate. She understood that, had realized it wasn't personal. Vampires might have an immortal lifespan to analyze personal trauma, get past it, but they had no time to wallow in it or milk it. Life was brutal, tough. If you didn't want all of it to be that way, you had to figure out how to move forward.
He saw all those thought processes in her mind, wondered how conscious she was of all those layers, or if it was just who she was. Regardless, he admired her stoicism. Her strength.
Beyond that, her human past had obviously been the key to opening her up, helping her claim the submissive needs she'd always yearned to embrace. Jared had been her Master, the only Master, and his time with her had been too short. If the male had loved her as much as she'd loved him--and Garron had no doubt he had, because this woman inspired a man's devotion as much as his territorial instincts--he was giving Garron a blatant fish-eye message.
Make it happen, you fucking bastard, since I can't.
Chapter Six
After a little breather of just stroking her, touching her, getting her focused on arousal again, he released her legs and brought her back to the original standing spread-eagle. He fixed the broken link and felt her attention build as he did it. She'd gone quiet, her mind a slow spinning top. No longer agitated, her body on a low hum, waiting for more of what he had planned. That was where he wanted her mind.
Retrieving a different ointment from his personal stores, he stood before her as he spread it on his fingers. He coated her clit and labia with it, reaching further between her legs to apply it to the tiny creases of her rectum. It had a soothing blend as well as a lubricant. For his own pleasure, he put some on her nipples, making them glisten. The ointment sparkled, metallic pieces part of the mix.
Returning to the counter, he put away the ointment, retrieved a violet wand and opened his tool box, choosing a mushroom-shaped electrode to fit into the neck. The violet wand made a humming noise as he turned it on, the mushroom casting a lavender light. Behind him, he heard her draw in a breath as the oil started to do what it did. It would warm at first, start to tingle, then stimulate. Then he would add to it with the wand.
He came to her, began to pass the mushroom-shaped glass attachment over her nipples. The metallic pieces sparkled as she arched in surprised reaction at the electricity passing through them. She rocked up to her toes, fingers closing on the chains holding her manacles. "Garron." It was surprise, trepidation, pleasure.
He leaned forward, kissing her lips, her cheek, her forehead, her eye brow, touching her face all over with his lips. She whimpered. Out of all the sounds she made, that pleading note was his favorite. Especially since he expected nothing like it had crossed her lips in some time.
Straightening, he went back to creating more magic for her. An even flow of movement over the nipples, down the stomach, to the cunt, tipping his elbow up or down as needed for stronger sensation. He stayed away from direct contact with the manacles, since that would result in too intense a charge for what he was wanting to accomplish. She started to dance under his touch, and this time he stayed mindful of how hard she was jerking against her bonds.
Please... Subs always used that word. It was like an aphrodisiac to a Master. Please stop. Please more.
Please...just please. It was his favorite word in the whole world for all the things it meant, especially coming from her lips and mind now.
Words were keys, clues to the inner psyche. When he demanded them from a sub, it wasn't to stroke his ego, but to get farther inside them. He knew which ones were key transition moments. He always treasured the first time they were spoken, and this time even more so.
"Please, what, Kaela? Say my name. Tell me who I am." He slid the wand over her clit, heard the static crackle as he passed it up and over, down and around in a swirling pattern. The slick tissues convulsed again.
"No...I can't...no..."
"You'll come as often as I want you to come. You make me so fucking hard when you come, my lady, I may not ever let you stop. I may keep you chained here all ten days, screaming my name and your cunt gushing, over and over. Give you water to keep you hydrated, let you feed from my throat, and beg me for release... When you say no, when you try to fight it, it makes me more determined to keep you chained up."
He moved the wand over her breasts again, down over her pussy, over all her flesh, watching the streaks of electrified color move between the device and her body. Her glazed eyes were on them as well, her mouth working but no words coming out. Except one.
"Master." Master.
His fingers tightened on the wand, and he forced himself to keep his head down an extra second, savoring the sound of it.
She broke again, her body straining. He saw the first flickers of mental and physical exhaustion, the climax carrying her away with no resistance, telling her just how helpless she truly was. That panicked her, such that she started to fight again. He knew how to work with that, so as she rolled off the climax, he was using the wand to take her up once again. Even as the tears started to roll, he catapulted her back to that peak once more.
She sobbed, broken words coming out of her mouth. "Master....no more, please. Master..."
He set the wand aside, but only to strip off his jeans. He'd tucked himself back in when he needed the restraint, so it was a relief to finally make himself as naked as she was. He released her lovely legs, coiling them around his hips. He put his arm around her waist, holding her to him as he released her wrists. Carrying her to the mattress in the corner, he laid her down on it, himself on his knees over her.
