Page 56 of Wicked Court

Securing the belts against her wrists, I then loop more around her delicate ankles, spreading her legs to each corner.

Each fastening is a promise of restraint, a statement of our control over her willful spirit. The straps are an extension of my grip, binding her not just to the cold marble slab beneath her, but to us.

“Comfortable?” I murmur, though we both know comfort is far from what’s intended here.

She shifts ever so slightly, the restraints allowing only a tease of movement, enough to feel the bite of her bindings.

“Remember,” I say, voice low as I lean closer, ensuring every syllable drips with clarity. “Obedience is your path to freedom. Resistance...” I let the word hang, a heavy weight in the charged atmosphere, “...will only sink you deeper into depths you can’t imagine.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Wilder nodding, his expression undeniably ravenous. Cav’s lips curve into a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, while Kaspian stands stoic, clasping his hands in front of him, his gaze never leaving Elara’s form.

They’re readying to take their leave, to let tonight play out as planned.

And I remember it. The plan.

“Each of us will return, one by one,” I say, my hand trailing over the contours of Elara’s ribs under her breasts, a gossamer touch that promises more. “And each encounter will test your resolve, your ability to hold on to the information you clutch so tightly.”

With a final glance that must sear terror into her skin, I signal the others. They exit the basement without a word, allowing me to be the first.

It’s my usual benefit, the promise they make, every time I submit to the Sovereigns’ punishment and receive another scar.

It hurts them to have me endure it more than it does me. I don’t mind the scars so much. Each one is a reminder of what I’ve done.

However, I don’t have to think of that right now, or try to remember anything further. It’s just me and Elara now, our breaths the only sound.

“Choose wisely, Elara,” I say, stepping back to admire the restraints’ craftsmanship—and the beautiful canvas they secure. “Because every next word you utter has a consequence.”

* * *

“Tell me where the ruby necklace is,” I demand.

I keep my attention locked on her face, fighting the urge to indulge in her body, searching for any flicker of surrender. But she remains silent, her lips pressed together in a stubborn line that only fuels my commitment to break her.

“Wrong answer,” I say as I reach into my pocket, pulling out the pink satin underwear I’d taken from her room—the one she’d worn the night I watched her from a distance, our plans for her taking shape.

Her scent still lingers on the fabric, a sweet, intoxicating blend that has plagued my thoughts since the moment I broke into her sanctuary and claimed this prize.

With deliberate slowness, I bunch her panties up, keeping my eyes fixed on hers. The air between us crackles with such ice, I’m surprised we’re not creating snowflakes.

Then, without breaking eye contact, I push the cloth past her resistant lips, filling her mouth with the taste of her own hidden desires. Her muffled protest vibrates against my palm, a sound that sends a dark thrill through me.

“Next time, don’t make me ask twice,” I growl, baring my teeth close to her face.

I step back, watching as conflicted emotions dance across Elara’s features—trepidation mingling with an undeniable glint of arousal. It’s there, beneath the surface, a heat that belies her cool exterior, pooling against the hard stone under her pussy.

It twists something deep within me—a carnal desire for domination wrestling with an unexpected respect for her resilience against us.

“Every time you deny me, every time you resist,” I continue, the rough timbre of my voice betraying my rising arousal, “it will only escalate pain over pleasure.”

At least, I hope so. This girl is nothing but conundrums against my already over-worked mind.

“I’m coming to realize,” I muse, almost to myself, “this isn’t just about the ruby Heart, is it? It’s about dominance. And whether you admit it, part of you craves to submit.”

Her eyes flash with indignation even as her body betrays her, responding to the raw authority in my voice, the terrifying presence I exude.

It’s a heady power to know that, despite her predicament, I affect her.

A shocking revelation, considering I send most women running.

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