Page 22 of The Apples Hung Like Stars
“There’s enough pressure all round; I’m not sure that Clíodhna would appreciate watching you wrap Janet in iron right now.”
“Clíodhna would certainlynotappreciate that. Especially dressed in your fucking jumper.”
I roll my eyes and pull the jumper up and over my head. Everyone is startled, and the Morrígan averts her eyes. “As if you haven’t all seen this before. This is a sex club, remember?”
Ciara clears her throat. “It’s our first time here; we’re not exactly regulars.”
“Oh.” I go to put it back on, but instead turn and look at Clíodhna. “Will seeing me, seeing all of me, help? Will it be good motivation?”
Clíodhna doesn’t answer, her jaw ever so slightly slack. It’s nice to know that even after all that has transpired this evening, I have the ability to render her speechless.
“I think that’s a yes,” interjects the Morrígan, dryly. “As for the rest of us, we’ll avert our gazes. Ciara, you’re okay to do the tying?”
She nods, but there’s something that she’s not saying. I reach for the pale blue thread that I’ve come to identify as hers, and I ping it mentally, as if plucking it with my finger. She looks up sharply and meets my eyes.
There are unshed tears in hers, and I almost tell her to forget it, that I don’t want her to cry, but then I see Clíodhna standing behind her, looking so very very lost and my resolve hardens.
“We can do this bit together,” I say. “You’re not doing anything that I don’t want, and if things go wrong you’ll untie me, yes?”
She nods. I feel a wave of protection and I look at the Morrígan angrily.
He’s been dealt with, she answers in my mind.You have my word.
I nod and step towards the stage, Ciara following me.
The cross is angled, so I’m not flush out to the audience, no matter which way I turn, which works for me. I lean back and face outwards. No cuffs for my wrists and ankles this time, only iron will bind my body to the cross.
I’ve never had such heavy links against my skin before.
“I’m not going to bind you so tightly that you’ll panic,” Ciara says, but there has to be some tension, or they won’t hold up.”
“I understand.”
They’re cold. So cold. My body shivers and I can feel goosebumps raising across my skin. Clíodhna takes a step forward, a strangled objection lingering on her lips. Her hair is a mass of red fury now, and her eyes are so deeply red I can see them from here.
“I’m alright,” I say, but I can tell that she doesn’t quite believe it. It’s too much for her to grasp, to comprehend, when I’m bound tightly in the one material she hates the most.
Ciara makes deft work of the binding, squeezes my hand and steps back.
I look at Clíodhna. “Come get me.”
Chapter Eighteen
Clíodhna
I can’t stop myself from admiring how good Janet looks, bound up in chains. In any of situation, I’d pause and dwell on that, on the indentation it’s making against her stomach, how when I pull it away, it’ll pattern her skin with shapes and reminders of how she’s been bound for me.
But this is not rope.
This is iron.
I have not touched iron in centuries. Haven’t wanted to. Haven’t needed to.
But now it is the thing that could save me and damn me.
I take a step forward and the hairs on my arms go up. I’m not going to be able to accomplish anything if my banshee nature steps in. Sweeping my mess of hair upwards, I force it into a bun, and pin it with even a physical pin now, just for good measure. I dressed, whilst Ciara was binding my Janet, my theory being that the less skin on display, the less there is to burn.
Time to test out that theory.
