Page 28 of Wired Courage

He pressed her wet face into his chest. She sagged, melting against him, and he tipped up her chin and kissed her. “I love the taste of your tears for how rare they are.” He kissed her some more, lifted her out of the pile of ruined clothing, and carried her to the bed.

They had played many games on that bed—extended their pleasure with props and techniques, with role play and bondage and chemical assistance. But this time the Master merely stripped her and took her, and comforted her with his body and his love.

She cried again at the end, and he drank her tears.

He stroked her naked flesh as their passion cooled and they lay facing each other. “You did wrong with those men, Beautiful One. That violence was not what I wanted.”

Pim Wat gazed into his eyes. Sated from passion, their color reminded her of deep purple pansies. “You gave me freedom in how to achieve the goal. I only sought to get the outcome we wanted.”

“But you did not need to hurt anyone to get that. I want you to watch how I get what we want without even one more act of suffering.”

Pim Wat frowned. “They are willing to die before they tell you anything.”

“We will simply tell them the truth. They will communicate with your daughter, and she will come to us and give us what we want in exchange.”

“I don’t understand how that will happen.” Pim Wat sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Sophie Malee hates me now.”

“You have caused that, my Beautiful One. You do not understand people and what motivates them. Of her own free will, Sophie will come to us. And Hamilton? I have plans for him. He is more than he appears.”

Pim Wat recognized the speculative look the Master got in his eye when he was considering a highly placed recruit. “You have a hundred apprentices,” she snorted. “Hamilton is not malleable clay.”

“You don’t see in him what I do.” The Master’s face was calm, implacable. “He wants so much more from his life than he is getting. I can give that to him.”

“I don’t understand your interest in Hamilton. It’s Jake who is her lover; you need him to get her to come. And I don’t want to let Jake go.” Pim Wat bit her lip, pouting.

“You killed him. Fortunately, Hamilton and I revived him.”

“I didn’t mean to kill him. I had other plans for Jake . . .” Pim Wat fiddled with a jade ornament tied into the Master’s hair, averting her eyes.

“I know. You wanted to violate him. Make him serve you in bed. Hurt your daughter by forcing her lover.”

Pim Wat looked up reluctantly. The Master saw Pim Wat clearly, but nothing in his demeanor changed; his eyes were still velvety and loving.

“You are a cobra, my Beautiful One. Hissing and venomous. But you aremycobra.” He stroked her breast, tweaked her nipple. “My deadly love. I will satisfy your bloodthirsty urges.” The Master wound his hand in the skein of her long black hair, pulled her closer so that she bared her throat to him. “You need no one but me. You want no one but me.” But instead of her neck, he leaned over and bit her breast.

Pim Wat shrieked. She bit him back, sinking her teeth into his shoulder. They wrestled and thrashed; blood was drawn on both sides—and the Master thoroughly obliterated her lingering thirst for Jake’s body.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Day Twenty-Five

“Hamilton.”Someone was calling his name.

Connor woke and groaned at the stiffness of his body. He looked up. Rosy sunset filtered through a narrow slit at the top of the room—the day was almost gone. He was chilled and sore; the bruises around his wrists and ankles throbbed.

“You will feel better once you have eaten.” The Master’s captivating voice came from the doorway. “Come. Join me for dinner.”

Connor swung his legs off the stone platform and sat up, fighting dizziness. He slid down to stand, pulling the cloth that had been used as a towel off the stone and wrapping it around his naked waist before spotting a black gi hanging from a peg on the wall. He took a moment to don the shirt and loose pants, knotting the belt at his waist. He was stronger, and walked straighter—but now he felt a grinding pinch in his belly, the gnaw of urgent hunger.

A small round table had been set up in front of the fireplace, and the divan and loveseat moved back. One of the ninjas carried in a tray loaded with covered dishes, bowed to the Master, and left, closing the door behind him.

Connor eyed the table for anything like a weapon, but a pair of wooden chopsticks did not seem like a weapon that would make a dent on a martial artist of the Master’s stature—because though he’d never seen the man in action, everything about him spoke of deadly competence.

A lamp burned on the rough stone wall, bathing the Master in a subtle glow as he used a simple bamboo scoop to serve a delicious-smelling meat and vegetable stir fry over rice into a bowl for each of them. He poured a ruby-colored drink from a carafe into horn cups. Connor watched as the man picked up his chopsticks. Every movement was graceful and definite.

“Eat. You must regain your strength,” the Master said. “But not too fast.”

Connor nodded and picked up his chopsticks.Why was this man being kind to him?Had he really not known what Pim Wat was up to in her torture chamber? Did he know how she’d executed his men in the jungle? Clearly this man was in charge—but Pim Wat must be a lieutenant or second in command.

---