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He moved behind her, pushing her hair to the side and revealing the back of her neck to his view. His thumb pressed against the bump on her throat, running over the tracking device with the tip of his finger.
She couldn’t see what he was doing then, but felt a sharp sudden pinch of pain at that very spot. It took a moment for her to realize that it was the edge of a knife that scraped shallowly against her throat. In agony, she cried out when he pinched the wound in her skin. With alarm, she felt the tracker first dislodge, then move and pop out of her skin.
“Please. Don’t hurt me,” she begged, her hand flying to her neck, the feel of her blood flowing across her sensitive flesh.
He didn’t say a word as he placed the flat of the blade against her neck. The metal was cool at first, but then warmed against her skin. Electric pulses awoke every nerve, overwhelming her senses. She yelped, but then the sharp pain began to fade away just as quickly as it had come and she felt her flesh begin to knit back together.
A soft fabric brushed against her, wiping away any semblance of blood that remained. There was no more pain. She reached back to touch the place he had sliced open and felt nothing; no bump, no scar, no more blood, just the seamless, unmarred softness of her own skin.
It was like it had never happened. He had healed her. Why would he do that?
“I didn’t know they’d come,” she said softly.
“I know,” he responded, the anger drained from his voice.
He turned her around and held his palm up in front of her eyes, the small tracking device blinking green before her. Slowly, he made a fist and she heard the thing crackle and pop. When he opened his palm again, the only thing left was the shattered remains of the tiny object. It didn’t blink anymore. It was dead.
She swallowed heavily.
“If I am to die, I only ask that you make it quick. It’s okay if it hurts, but please don’t torture me. That’s my only wish, Commander Edagon,” she said, tears freely falling down her cheeks.
He wound a hand around her lower back and cupped the back of her head so that she looked up at him. She studied his eyes, but could discern nothing.
“You think I mean to kill you,” he began, and she choked on a sob.
“After everything that’s happened? How could you not? Your men saw me up there, they probably think that I arranged the entire mission. I’m not only your enemy and your slave, but a traitor in their eyes,” she whispered, her voice shaking with fear.
“I don’t think you should die, Aubrie,” he replied.
“Please don’t torment me,” she begged and he stilled.
“Aubrie, look at me,” he ordered and something inside her broke.
Her vision blurring with tears, she struggled to obey.
“Have I ever physically marred you before? Tortured you for no reason?” he asked, his voice clear and firm.
“No,” she whimpered.
“The correct response is ‘No, sir,’ Aubrie,” he corrected.
“No, sir,” she whispered.
“Do you think I’ll begin now?” His dark eyes studied her, small flashes of red glimmering, and she quaked with her fear.
“No, sir,” she replied softly, a small glimmer of hope coming to life inside her.
“While you certainly misbehaved and tried to escape from me, you were most definitely not involved in your very own assassination mission. Instead of killing you or torturing you, I plan to teach you that you are mine. You will always and forever be mine. I refuse to share you and you would do well to remember that. You are my slave, Aubrie. You are my woman,” he declared and she trembled from the power in his voice.
“You’re going to teach me?”
“Oh, yes, little one,” he replied, a dangerous smirk growing at the edge of his lips.
Her bottom tingled then.
“What’s going to happen? What are you going to do?” she asked worriedly.
“Why don’t you continue on to my bedroom and you’ll find out?”
