Page 84 of My Bloody Valentine

The casual way he handles the blade, so comfortable with its lethal potential, reminds me of how far we’ve come. A year ago, I would have been shocked by this scene.

Adrian lifts the skull mask and turns it in his hands. The bone-white surface catches shadows from the fire, making it seem alive. My breath quickens as he sets it back down and reaches for the restraints.

“Come here,” he commands softly.

I move toward him with a racing pulse, equal parts fear and anticipation coursing through my veins. The leather feels cool against my skin as he tests the first restraint, checking the give.

The firelight flickers across Adrian’s face as he fastens the last restraint. My mind drifts to how different this Valentine’s Day is from last year’s chaos. Back then, I was still fighting my nature. Now, I understand it’s as much a part of me as my ability to detect the emotions hidden in every dish.

“What are you thinking about?” Adrian’s fingers trace my collarbone.

“How much has changed.” I lean into his touch. “The boutique’s special collection this year... the way people practically fought over those limited truffles.”

He smiles, knowing exactly what makes those particular chocolates so coveted. We’re more selective about whose essence we capture, but the results are undeniable. Each piece tells a story and holds an intensity that keeps Chicago’s elite returning for more.

“Gabe seems happy,” I murmur, thinking of how he and Amelia dance around each other at The Blue Room. Her paintings hang on the walls now, splashes of deep color that perfectly match his jazz. They’ve found their own balance of light and shadow.

Adrian’s hand slides up to my throat. “And you? Are you happy?”

I don’t have to pretend in this isolated cabin, miles from our carefully maintained public life. Don’t have to hide behind polite smiles and professional critiques.

“Happier than I ever thought possible.” The words come out breathless as his grip tightens slightly. “Though I never imagined I’d find joy in such twisted places.”

His other hand reaches for the mask. “Show me just how twisted you’ve become.”

I watch Adrian slide his skull mask into place, transforming him from a sophisticated chocolatier into something more savage. My heart pounds as he lifts the red rope, his movements precise and practiced.

“Arms up,” he commands softly.

I comply without hesitation, trusting him completely as he wraps intricate patterns across my body. The rope slides against my skin in an elaborate dance, each knot and twist perfectly placed. Adrian’s skill with shibari never fails to amaze me - the way he can turn simple cord into art.

His fingers caress my neck as he secures another line. The skull mask tilts as he studies his work, ensuring the tension is exactly right—not too tight, not too loose—perfect control.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, admiring the geometric patterns now decorating my form. I’m completely immobilized, yet I’ve never felt more free. This is who we truly are beyond the refined facade of the boutique, beyond society’s constraints.

The knife appears in his hand, moonlight glinting off the polished steel. He traces the blade’s flat surface along the rope lines, following his created paths. The cool metal raises goosebumps on my skin.

“Are you ready, baby?” The mask can’t hide the dangerous edge in his voice.

I nod, already floating in that space where fear and desire blend into pure sensation. “Yes.”

The first bite of the blade is exquisite, a bright line of awareness that makes me gasp. Adrian knows how much pressure to use and how to walk that perfect line. The rope holds me steady as he works, creating his masterpiece in crimson and shadow.

He starts with my blood, tracing the tip of the knife along a vein in my forearm. My breath hitches as I anticipate the sharp slice that will open me and expose me to him. He takes his time, dragging the blade lightly over my skin, drawing a whimper from deep in my throat.

“You like this, don’t you?” His words ghost across my skin like a lethal caress, sending shivers through me.

I want to answer, to tell him how much this awakens me, but all I can manage is a nod. My eyes are fixed on the knife, watching his skilled hands guide it.

“Don’t worry, I won’t take too much.” His thumb brushes the vein, and I feel a tiny prick. “Just enough to add to tonight’s dessert.”

Heat pools between my legs at the thought, even as I feel a brief sting and the warm trickle of blood. I know now why he insisted on the skull mask. It’s not just about anonymity—it’s a reminder that this is about facing our deepest fears and pushing boundaries.

Adrian secures the vial of my blood, and his eyes drift down my bound body. “Now, let’s see what else I can take from you.”

His mouth replaces the knife, tracing the path he cut with his lips and tongue. My back arches instinctively, craving more contact, but the restraints hold me fast. His hands grip my hips, holding me still as he tastes me with his teeth and his tongue.

“So responsive.” His hot breath washes over my sensitive skin. “How do you feel? Vulnerable, perhaps?”

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