Page 79 of Spark of Madness

I draw in a trembling breath and all the emotions I’ve been shoving down for weeks come rushing out on the exhale. Tears well unexpectedly in my eyes, and when I blink, they slip down my cheeks as an echoing sob breaks free. I cover my face with my hands, trying to hide as the heavy reality tries to crush me with dread.

Then, Arlo’s arms come around me, pulling me against his strong chest, embracing me as I cry. My tears stutter in their release at the surprise of him holding me, touching me, encircling me with warmth after enduring weeks of cold, lonely nights without companionship.

“Let me help you,” he whispers.

I pull back to gaze up at him through a sheen of tears. His expression is somber, painted with compassion, and I hadn’t expected it. I hadn’t expected to see him looking at me the way he is right now—it shocks my heart. I nod slowly, agreeing to let him help me. Relief touches his eyes and I find it comforting.

His hands come up to grip my shoulders, and he dips his head, lowering his eyes to level with mine. “Will you let me bind you bare this time?”

I’d only gone as far as stripping to my undergarments in all our practice sessions before—not because I felt uncomfortable. Truthfully, I would have preferred to properly prepare myself for the first trial. I’d kept my underwear on because Delle and Theo were with us, because Delle was uncomfortable, unready, and I wanted her to feel safe.

Maybe I’ve done her an injustice in that way, neglecting to insist that she practice bare. She’ll feel anything but safe in the trial, and now I worry I should’ve fought to prepare her more realistically.

And here I am again, neglecting myself in a moment Arlo has set aside for my own preparation. I close my eyes through a deep breath, letting Arlo’s words float through my mind to remind myself that his brothers in God look forward to defilingme,not Delle. They only see me as the sinner who sparked Delle’s rebellion.

A body they’re meant to desecrate…

I shiver at the words in my mind, opening my eyes. I nod slowly, indicating that I will let him bind me in the flesh this time. I want to know what the rope will feel like on my skin when I wear it for seven hours in the trial. I want to be prepared. I want him to help me, and I have to let him.

Without saying a word, I reach behind to grip the zipper at the middle of my back, tugging it down to loosen my crimson gown. I push down the fabric at my shoulders, letting the long sleeves brush down my arms as they fall to my feet. Arlo’s eyes lower to my chest as I unhook my bra, and my heart skips a beat at the way his light eyes darken—dark like the empty space of the vast open cavern beyond the flickering firelight.

I pull off the black bra, then bend to remove my boots before slipping off my underwear. As I rise, cool air swirls around me, and as it brushes across my breasts, my nipples harden into taut peaks. I find myself in sudden anticipation, wondering how it will feel to have him wrap the rope around my breasts, secretly hoping for a slip of his fingers brushing over the stiffened buds.

“Do you know how painfully beautiful you are?”

His words breeze past me, scattering in the darkness beyond.

He blinks and turns away before I can respond, moving to a spot on the rock wall a few steps away. I’m almost thankful that the darkness swallowed his words, that he turned away before I could reply. I don’t know what I would say to that. I place a palm on my stomach, hoping to settle the flurry of pleasant stirrings in my gut.

I watch as Arlo takes a couple of steps toward the darkness, holding my breath in fear that he’ll misstep and slip over the edge. He reaches up and my eyes follow his hands, stopping at the glint of metal as he tugs down a solid metal hoop. Lifting my gaze higher, I see there’s a rock overhang there, like a ceiling from which the hoop hangs.

“I rigged it myself,” he says, releasing the hoop. He’s pulled it down far enough that it’s visible in the firelight, the shiny metal reflecting the orange glow as it spins in a slow circle. “It’s safe.”

“What is it for?”

“Suspension. I’ll put up a similar rigging for the trial.”

I nod slowly, the darkness at the edge of the drop-off beckoning my glance, reminding me of a long fall with a painful death looming.

Arlo moves, stepping closer. “Trust me.” He holds out his hand.

Mine is drawn to his like a magnet, my palm floating out instinctively to fill his. My skin tingles as my hand lands on his, and I realize we’re skin to skin—I hadn’t even noticed him remove his gloves.

I’ve noticed the burns and scars, but I haven’t asked him about them yet, and I’m not sure if I want to. I fear that knowing vulnerable details about him will grow too strong of a connection between us—a connection I’ll have to let go of when I meet my death.

The connection I fear alreadyexists.

He guides me until I’m beneath the suspended hoop, standing behind me and positioning me where he wants me with his hands on my shoulders. I lift my head to see the metal hoop slowly spin just above me. His hands leave my shoulders, and only moments later, he begins to coil rope around my body, and though it’s the same as every other time he’s done it before, it’s entirely different.

We’re alone.

I’m naked.

I’m lost in these dark caverns, standing on the edge of a cliff.

He drapes rope around my front and ties knots along my back. I knew the braided twine would be coarse against my bare skin, but I hadn’t expected it to be quite as rough as it is. It’s not painful, it’s just a feeling. It’s a feeling that makes my pulse race to pump desire through my veins.

He twists and tugs, each small jerk of the rope threatening to drag me backward against him. I move one foot slightly in front of the other to plant my feet, to keep myself rooted to the spot because I fear colliding with him and knocking him off the ledge. I also fear feeling his warmth against my back, which will knock me off a different kind of cliff.

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