"Looks like someone enjoyed having her throat wrecked," he drawled, staring pointedly at her swollen clit, rosy peak nipples, and trembling thighs.

Aekeira whimpered shyly and squeezed her eyes shut.

Chuckling, he arranged a wet cloth and wiped her face, hair and neck clean, before he picked up the discarded whip.

Aekeira's eyes snapped open, that look of dread returning.

Aekeira felt like she was on fire. Her jaws ached, and her throat felt well-used. But she was so aroused, even the soft breeze seemed too much on her sensitive skin. Aekeira was ready for anything he wanted.

Until his hand reached for the whip again.

Her eyes fixed on the sturdy whip Lord Vladya held, and a wave of apprehension rolled through her. She tried her best to stay calm, forcing herself to breathe evenly. When he raised the whip, her heart skipped a beat, and she squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the strike.

Where would it land, her thighs, her stomach, or where she was even more vulnerable…

A helpless cry escaped her lips. She tried to squeeze her legs together, but the bounds stopped her. Aekeira waited, tense, expecting the blow.

But it never came.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Vladya was watching her, his brows furrowed in deep thought. The whip had lowered, hanging limply in his hand as if his will to strike had vanished.

"I'm... confused," Vladya muttered, almost to himself. Conflicted. “There are so many voices in my head—all screaming, all telling me how to hurt and destroy. But when it comes down to it, when I raise the whip on you, they fall silent.”

Bewilderment was evident in his voice. "He wanted this, the beast. But when I raise the whip... the urgedisappears. Replaced by this need toprotectyou.”

Aekeira blinked at him, trying to make sense of his words. She didn’t fully understand. Not what he was saying, nor what it meant for them.

"The urge is still there. I still want to use it," he said, his grip on the whip tightening. "But not on you." Yellow flashed in his dark, wild eyes. "Tell me someone who has hurt you."

Aekeira’s heart raced. "I-I..." Her mind blanked as she struggled to process his demand.

"Give me a name," Lord Vladya growled through gritted teeth, as if he were barely holding back the storm. He looked savage, feral, and deeply enraged. "Who has hurt you recently? Give me someone on whom I can unleash this darkness inside me."

A name surfaced in her mind before she could stop it. "Slavemaster Tyke," she blurted out. Then immediately regretted it, biting her lip. "Forget I said anything—"

Vladya’s expression darkened further. His voice was icy, controlled. "Was it before or after the warning I issued him?"

"Lord Vladya…” Aekeira tried to avoid his gaze. She knew the dangers too well—slaves who reported slavemasters or soldiers often found themselves in even more perilous situations. She had learned that lesson from Amie. There was never true safety in speaking out.

"Was it before or after?" he snapped.

She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "After. But—"

Lord Vladya grabbed the discarded sheet and threw it over her, covering her exposed body. "Yaz!" he barked, his voice reverberating off the stone walls of the chamber. “Get in here. Now.”

The soldier entered, and Aekeira turned her face to the side, swallowing her sound of embarrassment at being caught in such a humiliating position.

Yaz, however, remained stoic. His eyes fixed forward, his voice as emotionless as always. “Yes, My Lord?”

“Bring me Tyke,” Lord Vladya commanded, his tone as sharp as the whip he clutched tightly. “Right this instant.”

When the door opened once more, Yaz entered, the slavemaster Tyke trailing nervously behind. Glancing around the room in confusion, he cleared his throat. “My Lord, y-you sent for me...?”

Vladya stopped his pacing, turning his full attention to the slavemaster. “Kneel, Tyke.”

Tyke dropped to his knees.

“You’ve earned a reputation as one of the best masters in the fortress,” Lord Vladya said smoothly. “And for that, I have chosen to give you an honor. You will be on the receiving end of this whip. What do you have to say to that?”