Page 28 of Crowning of the Sword

It was while she was still in a fever of arousal that he wielded the whip. If his hand had been hurtful, it was nothing compared to the sting of leather. She squealed as he whipped methodically and slowly, covering her arse and upper thighs with stroke after stroke, never in the same place twice, always keeping her guessing. And just when she thought she would scream with the agony of it, he would lick her and suckle her until she writhed in ecstasy. Her desire rose higher and higher, and just as she was at the peak, as she threatened to tip over the edge, he whipped her again.

It wasn’t long before the cut of the leather tassels began to evoke new sensations, a twisted gratification, a maelstrom of dark sensuality. Mist coalesced around them, Cole’s arousal a tangible force, as his arm came down, again and again, before his mouth was on her, teasing, tasting, followed by the cut of the lash. He was panting with it, his clothes gone, the length of his cock glistening at the head. Finally, he threw the whip aside and settled on his knees between her legs. She was sobbing, face damp with tears, throbbing with pain and incomplete desire. The ribbons loosened enough for him to pull her hips up, and a pillow slid underneath, giving her support.

When he finally slammed into her, she arched her back, submitting to every thrust, crying out his name. He fisted one hand in her hair, pulling her head back until she thought her spine might crack, and the other slipped around to squeeze her breast, cruelly pinching her nipple. She came and again, sparks exploding behind closed lids, and when he joined her, she collapsed.

The ribbons slid away, leaving her free, but helpless, overcome with gratified languor.

His voice was gentle, the words sounding as if they were coming from very far away.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You.” Her answer was a breath, a sigh.

“Where do you live?”

“Here.”

“Where did you come from?”

Th answer was hesitant. “I … don’t remember.”

“Good.”

She lay, her eyes closed, utterly drained. She didn’t even have the energy to raise her head. The collar lay against her skin, warm and comforting, and she slept.

Chapter 24

She woke to a soft twilight that was lighter than the whirling darkness of the night before. She stretched, her body aching and bruised, with stinging welts across her flesh from the whip that Cole had so expertly wielded.

Lily applied a soothing salve to her wounds, most of which Ember couldn’t reach herself. The ointment vanished the welts immediately, but she could still feel the ache beneath her skin. She didn’t care though; she fell on her breakfast with a hearty appetite, and when Lily showed her the pair of jeans and white tee she’d requested just hours earlier, she told Lily she’d changed her mind, that Cole preferred she wear pretty things. Without a word, Lily brought her a pair of flowing pants and silk shirt with a loose, cowl style neckline that offered glimpses of the shadowed cleavage between her breasts. Ember looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and smiled, admiring the way the deep blue of the fabric gave her skin a luxuriant glow and the way her diamond necklace glittered in the light. She felt pretty. She felt desired. She felt wonderful.

When she returned to the room, Lily was remaking her bed with fresh sheets, the old, rumpled ones dotted with blood, lying in a heap in the corner. Ember watched her fondly. She wanted to please her, to make her as happy as she was.

She went to the dressing table and drew out the brush that Alena had given her. “Lily. Come here, please.”

Obediently, Lily left the bed and went to her side, a questioning look in her eyes. Ember bade her turn around, and untied the ribbons in the back of her tunic, revealing the remains of her poor ruined wings, the stumps scarred and knotted in vicious tones of pink and red. Carefully, Ember took her brush and painted an arching line from the tip of one broken wing, to a point high above Lily’s head. She painted the wings in the manner of the other fae she had seen, gracefully arching up and then down again, almost to the floor. As she painted each feather, she imagined them in colours that would suit dark-haired Lily: royal blue, crimson, and emerald green tipped with glinting gold, the vivid, vibrant colours of a tropical bird. When she had finished, she gently turned Lily to face her. Lily’s eyes were closed, a trickle of a tear oozing down her face.

“Oh no, what’s wrong? Do you not like them?” said Ember in distress. She’d thought to please Lily, not cause her sorrow.

In response, Lily flexed her new wings, folding them around her like a cape, and then snapping them out wide with a clap of percussion. She leapt into the air and took a turn around the room, and then again, faster and faster, the candlelight in the room blown out in an instant, drapes flapping wildly, tiny fairy lights dancing like erratic dust motes through the room.

Ember laughed, clapping her hands, and Lily dived, stumbling as her feet touched the floor.

“I’m out of practice.” She laid her palm against Ember’s cheek and gave a watery smile. “Thank you. You don’t know what this means to me.”

Ember hastened to explain. “They’re not real. They’re just a glamour.”

“They’re real to me,” and Lily took to the air again.

“You could take a turn around the gardens,” Ember called to her. “If you’re up high enough, no one will know.”

Lily dropped by her side, a little out of breath, her landing a little surer. “Do you think so? If I get caught, I’ll be in terrible trouble.”

“Then I’ll deal with them,” said Ember, confidently. She had the ear of the prince, didn’t she? She was going to be a fae herself. She was a royal mistress, a person of standing. All who feared Cole should fear her too, and the knowledge of it felt dark and pleasurable within her. “When you return, you can take the wings off and hide them away somewhere where no one will find them, if you like. Go, Lily. I’m going to go to the training grounds. You enjoy yourself and I’ll see you later.”

Lily threw her arms around Ember and kissed her on the cheek. “I will never forget this,” she said seriously. “Never.”

She skipped to the windows, hoisted herself up onto the sill, and leapt into the air. Ember rushed to the window and watched Lily dive low and then flick her wings out, gliding up over the gardens and then the trees, along the walled boundary of the castle and out of sight.

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