Page 8 of Black Sheep

I’m not aware that my curiosity filters through until she looks down at herself with a grimace.

“Senator Otis is downstairs. Tonight it’s English-boarding-school-and-his-dinner-lady-serving-him-gruel night. I left him eating the slop and crying.”

I nod, neither amused nor amazed. Her gaze slides over me before returning to mine. She knows better than to probe, but she’s not afraid to stare.

Others might be foolish enough to believe it’s softness they see in her eyes, but like me, nothing about her is soft.

We stare at each other in silence before I calmly lay my hands palm up on the armrests. Still in silence, she drops her gaze to the cuffs then back to me.

I nod.

With a graceful sway that hints at a deep sensuality I have no interest in exploring, she closes the distance to the chair and sinks down to pick up the first cuff. The click is loud, specifically designed that way to add severity to the moment. My soul barely twitches. The second cuffs secure me to the chair. I don’t test their resilience. I already know they won’t free me until I desire it.

She stands back and stares down at me.

“How long? The usual two hours?”

“No. Longer.”

“Four.”

I shake my head, the sight of that Please on my phone screen flashing across my mind. Taunting me.

“Five?” Her voice doesn’t change, but there’s something in there. The tiniest hint of concern.

I stare at her. “Six.”

“No—”

“Do as I say. Or I’ll get someone else to do it.”

I trust no one. But like I do with Quinn Blackwood, the Black Widow and I share a special bond. Not one I would swear life or death on by a long shot. But there’s an…understanding. She’s the only one who’s been allowed into my special room, the only one who knows the ingredients of my sweet poison. The only one who’s seen what this room does to me. The longest I’ve been able to withstand is five hours.

Her concern is warranted.

I see her swallow before she reaches into her pocket. The small remote is directly linked to the chains. She sets the time but hesitates before pressing the requisite button.

Boldly she steps up to me, and she slides her hands through the hair at my nape. I jerk away but cannot escape her touch because of the cuffs. She stops, staring down at me with narrowed eyes.

I’m on the edge. Hell, who the fuck am I kidding? I was born on the edge. But tonight I’m a whisper away from annihilation and we both know it.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Fuck no. Hell yes.”

She opens her mouth.

“No,” I preempt her.

“I don’t have to stay here with you, but I can be outside.”

“No. Press the button. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Axel…”

I close my eyes and shudder as my fists ball. I want to hear my name, but I don’t want the voice to be The Black Widow’s. There’s only one voice I want to hear right now. One face I want to see. Cleo’s.

“Do it and leave. Now.”

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