Page 92 of Devilish Ink

I was just being paranoid. I settled against the seat as Balor steered his whining sports car around the hairpin turns in the pitch-black dark.

But I couldn’t stop myself from glancing again. Searching. Searching for what I missed.

Massive wrought-iron gates swung open and Balor pulled his car around a stunning stone fountain.

I should have found the sprawling mansion beautiful.

But it was well past midnight and every window was lit up a garish yellow. I don’t know why exactly, but it made my skin crawl.

“Expecting guests?” I laughed, my nerves jangling.

Balor was already out of the car, crossing in front of the hood, opening my door, I thought, a little too roughly.

But his smile as he leaned down to offer his hand was gracious.

Still, I didn’t like how much I had to hold onto his arm as my ankles wobbled in my high heels.

“No tour,” I joked when Balor moved directly toward the stairs when we entered the grand foyer, my arm falling limply from his.

Balor spoke to the top of the stairs instead of me when he said in astrange voice, “We both know there’s only one room you want to see, Ryleigh.”

The pretence of the nightcap was completely forgotten as he led me up one side of the split grand staircase toward his bedroom. I was once again unnerved by how he didn’t glance behind him to make sure I was still following.

There was no playful brush of fingers on the marble staircase, no pressing me against the wall in the too brightly lit hallway to nip at each other’s wine-stained lips, no knowing smiles exchanged at the closed door, his hand hesitating on the doorknob to allow me to consent.

Balor swung open a door and stepped aside with a sweep of his arm. I glanced to the front door. I shook off my paranoia and walked toward Balor. The rasp of my heels sounded strange in my ears.

What I discovered was apparently the only room in the mansion not fully illuminated.

“Go on,” Balor said, almost breathlessly. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

I checked his eyes once more. His pupils were wide. But we were there for sex after all, right?

I stepped inside. Balor flipped a switch and low lights came on along the floorboards. Horrible, contorted shadows looked like monsters.

I gasped. This wasn’t a bedroom.

Black padded leather lined every wall and everywhere were whips and chains, metal barred cages and paddles, electric cattle prodders and adjustable tables with straps for wrists and ankles.

I retreated back a few steps and collided into his chest. I hadn’t heard him come into the room.

“Wait…” I said, trying to step around him toward the exit.

He caught me by the throat. The suddenness of it startled me.

This wasn’t how this worked. There was supposed to be talk around boundaries. Clear consent. Respect. A safe word.

I tried to push Balor off of me, but he just grinned. I clawed at his fingers as he groped at my breasts.

“We don’t even have a safe word yet,” I gasped. “Let go.”

He laughed. “It’s better without a safe word.”

He kicked the door shut with his heel.

Fear spiked in my chest seeing my way out blend in seamlessly with the wall, withallthe walls. When Balor began walking me backwards, I panicked.

“Please,” I said. I thought I could bargain for time. “Balor, we haven’t started yet. Just— I’m not ready yet.”

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