It bothered him that he dared not move, and he dared not reach down to kiss her.
She pulled the fabric down.
The cool air of the room hit his exposed skin.And his body, traitorously, reacted.A flush swept up his chest, over his scars, staining his throat.He tried to will it away, to command himself to stillness, but the evidence of his own want was laid bare before her gaze.
A cruel smile touched her lips.She knew exactly what power she held.
"So," she purred, her eyes dropping."The great Khan is truly a man, after all."
"...Khatun."His voice was barely audible.
She reached out.Not to touch him there, but to lay her palm flat against the pounding, frantic rhythm of his heart."Your heart races.Is it fear?"She looked up, leaning forward on the table."Or anticipation?"
Looking away, he gritted his teeth; he couldn’t answer.Language had deserted him.
Her hand slid from his chest, down the centreline of his body, tormenting him deliciously.Every scar on his body felt like it was burning fiercely.
Yet he felt no pain.
"Look at me," she commanded, her voice soft as a blade slipping between ribs, piercing his heart and flaying it open.
He forced his head up.His eyes were glassy.
She finally wrapped her cool fingers around him.His body tensed, his breathing turning laboured as heat consumed him.
"You see?"she whispered, her thumb moving in a slow, ruthless circle."This is the truth of our contract.Your vulnerability in my hand.Your life, and your pleasure, are mine to give or withhold."She tightened her grip, just shy of pain."Do you understand your position now, my Lord?"
Did he understand?
With her words, a line had been drawn in the sand.
His life was hers to own, and he had challenged her to take it.
It seemed, while he was carried away by her whims, she had long since conquered it.
She released him, as if losing interest.She looked at the wetness on her hand and smirked."You may dress."
He stayed frozen for a moment, the abandonment landing as hard as everything before it.Moving felt impossible.His body was a foreign, disobedient thing.
She did not look away, merely watching him to see if he would obey.
He had half a mind to see her back to the table and part her legs.To have her nails dig into his back as much as she liked, to have her finally disarm herself before him.
But did she wish for such?
He couldn’t tell.
Ragnar had thought she had exposed herself to him a little, but now he was beginning to realise, not once could he fully tell what she wished of him unless she spoke of it.
Pulling his robes back up, he silently retied his belt, fixing his clothes to protect her dignity when he left.He could still feel her gaze on his skin, colder than any winter on the Steppes.
He left, closing the door softly behind him.In the dark corridor, he leaned his forehead against the cold stone wall.His body still buzzed with the echo of her touch, his soul smitten with the scalding brand of her contempt.
Ragnar understood the weakness of his flesh; that he would, one day, cross deserts and burn kingdoms for the chance to kneel before her again.
“Great Khan.”
Ragnar opened his eyes to Thane’s call; he inhaled deeply, calming his beating heart.
