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“No,” she said, the word a whisper.
“These are very ancient. They have been in my family for hundreds of years.”
“Oh.”
“Out of use for generations. They are deeply symbolic. And they are never worn in public.”
“Where are they worn?”
He looked at her with meaning.
“Oh.”
“They speak of this ownership that I feel. The ownership I told you about, in these royal marriages.”
“Oh,” she said again, her throat dry, her heart fluttering in her chest like a trapped bird.
“Permit me.”
And she didn’t even consider refusing.
He knelt before her. With great care, he removed her shoes and set them aside. Then he lifted his hands, hooked his fingers in the waistband of her underwear and drew them slowly down her legs. A pulse beat hard at the apex of her thighs, and she closed her eyes tight for a moment, trying to find her balance.
She was embarrassed, to be naked with him kneeling down before her like this. And she didn’t want to look. But also... She couldn’t bear to not watch what he might do next.
So she opened her eyes, looked at him, his dark head bent, his position one of seeming submission.
But she knew better.
He clasped the first cuff to her ankle. Then the second.
Then, nestled in those jewelry boxes she spotted something she hadn’t seen before. Gold chains. Without taking his eyes from her, he clasped one end of the first chain to her ring on the left ankle cuff, then attached it to the one on the right.
After that, he rose up, taking the other gold chain in his hand, sliding it between his fingers and looking at her with intent. Then he repeated the same motion he had completed on her ankles with her wrists.
She blinked several times, trying to gather herself. She took a fortifying breath. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Surely these wouldn’t actually keep anyone captive. They’re far too fine.”
“They’re not intended to keep anyone captive. Not really. This captivity is a choice,” he said, curling his forefinger around the chain that connected her hands. He tugged gently, and she responded to the pressure, taking two steps toward him. “It is a choice,” he said again.
Understanding filled her.
Because he was giving her a moment now. To make the choice. Or to run.
It fully hit her now that it was a choice she had made. To stay here. To say yes to him.
She stood, and she didn’t move.
She tilted her face upward, the motion her clear and obvious consent. He wrapped his hand more tightly around the chain, bringing her yet closer, and he claimed her mouth with his.
The gold was fine, delicate and such a soft metal. She could break free if she chose. But she didn’t. Instead, she let him hold her as a captive, kissing her deep and hard. His one hand remained around the chain, and his other came up to cup her face, guiding her as he took the kiss deep, his tongue sliding against hers, slick and wonderful.
Hot.
Possessive.
He released his hold on her, taking a step back and beginning to unbutton his shirt, revealing hard-cut muscles that never failed to make her feel weak. To make her feel strong. Because wasn’t the woman who enticed such a man to pleasure, to a betrayal of all that he was, even more powerful than he in many ways?
Maybe, maybe not. But she felt it.
