“Not another word, or I’ll use the ball gag. I only want moans and my name on your lips when I come deep inside you. Understand?” He breathed hard, and the tip of his c**k nudged at the waistband of his boxer-briefs, excessively hard and calling to me like an addiction.

I’d never felt more alive or more frightened.

“I understand, maître,” I whispered.

My voice was the starting gun. Q gritted his teeth, visibly shuddering. All along he’d been searching for my permission—whether he knew it or not. He shed the angry tension and relaxed, transforming into a composed master.

I waited for him to buckle the myriad of straps around me, but he paused.

Waited and watched.

Breathed and deliberated.

Then he lurched forward; his mouth crushed mine. My neck protested from where he’d strangled me and I couldn’t breathe as his tongue darted past the seam of my lips and took. My God, he f**king took. He demanded and cajoled with every twist of his tongue. Every lick and sweep.

The kiss held fury and promises. His lips spoke how much he already cared for me, all the while trying to eat me alive.

With unrestrained hands, I let myself do what I’d wanted for so long. I allowed myself to touch him. My arms flew up and my fingers swept through his thick, short hair.

He moaned as I dug nails deep, remembering his migraine and how he let me massage him back to health. How, by letting me tend to him, my emotions blossomed and grew. I’d been a slave—a possession—then. Now, I belonged. I was truly his, but only because I chose it.

I’d found where I belonged. I was done fighting my desires. Q was everything I wanted and more.

Running my hands down his scalp, I captured the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His taut body landed on mine with a heavy lurch, pressing me hard against the cross. His mouth bruised mine as our lips melded and clashed against each other.

Spearing my tongue with his, I battled his taste until we were both heaving and clawing at each other. I lost sense of how hard I scratched his neck and shoulders. I lost sensation of how hard his fingers dug into my hips. Nothing existed but our kiss.

Sharp, sweet pain made me gasp. My eyes watered as Q pulled back, licking his lips free from a small trace of accusing red.

“You bit me,” I panted.

I opened my mouth and ran a fingertip over my already swelling tongue. Metallic blood pooled just a little; I swallowed.

He stared at me unrepentant, eyes glassy with lust. “I couldn’t stop it. I had to taste you.” His throat rippled as he swallowed, taking some part of me deep into him.

My thoughts raced. Even though Q was so hard to read, I began to see his true depth of need. His need for scars and blood and primal connection. He wasn’t faking it. It wasn’t about the kink or whipping. It was purely about opening me up, cracking open my very existence, and possessing me.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit it scared me. I liked pain. I loved the taboo line of pleasure in accepting a whip’s kiss or a flogger’s smack—subservient entirely to my master’s whim. But I wasn’t ready to die.

Will Q ever be satisfied? My heart sank, plummeted right to my toes.

Panic rose in my throat, forming into an uncomfortable knot. “Will I ever be enough? Will I ever be able to give you what you crave?”

Q jolted upright, his entire body jerking to a rigid halt. It wasn’t until he took a fumbling step back I realized I’d spoken aloud.

Oh, shit.

My eyes flew to Q’s blazing jade ones, and my heart died a little more. Tess, you idiot.

Rushing forward, I grabbed his arm and squeezed hard muscle. “I didn’t mean that. I know this is all so new. It’s strange…for both of us.”

Q looked at me as if I were an alien species. His eyes went blank, face contorted with confusion and regret.

I cupped his cheek, desperate to have him come back to me. I could almost follow his thoughts. See the blood splatter, the hatred for himself.

When he didn’t react to my soft touch, I tried hard instead. I slapped him.

The noise of flesh against flesh snapped him out of his zombified state. He blinked, rubbing his cheek absentmindedly. A few seconds passed while he gathered himself together.

Finally, he scowled. All the fire and lust from before blazed in his gaze.

“I told you not to speak unless it was screaming my name.”

His body rippled as he allowed his demons to come fully into the light. “And banish those thoughts from your head, esclave. No matter what I say, you are enough. Too much. Trop pure et parfaite pour un homme comme moi.” Too pure and perfect for a man like me.

He rolled his shoulders, growling, “But it won’t stop me from trying to ruin you.”

My legs trembled, and in that moment I wanted nothing more than a simple hug. I wanted him to be soft and sweet, touch me and comfort me. He said I was enough, but I wasn’t so sure, and the insecurity made me desolate.

Q didn’t give me time to wallow. He slammed against me, pushing backward with the strength of a brick wall. My back connected with the cross and oxygen fled my lungs.

Q dropped his head and his lips latched onto my neck.

“Q—” My voice was breathy, a plea for something. Something I doubted I would ever receive.

His mouth sucked hard on my skin, bruising the delicate flesh. I shivered in his arms as he licked along my collarbone. His hands roamed over my hips, up my ribcage to find my br**sts. With an angry hold, he took the weight, pinching my ni**les hard as his teeth whispered across my neck.

“Ah!” I jolted as a sharp slice burned my throat.

My mouth hung open as he lapped and groaned. “You taste so good. Not your skin, or sweat, or perfume. The very depth of you. Your life-force. Your blood.” He licked again before soothing my ni**les with his thumbs. “Does that disgust you? Does it horrify you that I need this to feel connected? That this is a part of being loved by me?”

His tone hinted that he expected me to say yes. Even now, even though I gave him promises and slept beside him while he suffered nightmares of doing untold things to me, he still expected me to leave. I just hoped to God I was strong enough to keep my promises.

“No. I understand who you are and what you need. I didn’t—”

Q bit me particularly hard, drawing more blood. His throat contracted as he swallowed and when he went to pull away, I hugged his head to me, forcing his lips against the bite.

Goosebumps sprang over my skin as his hot breath charred me into cinders. “Drink me if that’s what you need. Fuck me if it will help you believe. Je suis à toi.” I’m yours.

He groaned, thrusting his h*ps against mine; the hardness of his cock, trapped in his boxer-briefs, speared against my belly button.

My heart twisted as my core melted. My mind spiralled into the darkness Q was so good at conjuring. I didn’t care it was socially wrong to share blood. I didn’t care that societies protecting women would be horrified with what I let Q do to me.

The world didn’t matter. This was us. This was our f**kedupness learning how to live without guilt and shame.

Q nibbled his way up my neck, along my jaw, to my lips. When he kissed me, he didn’t hold back. His tongue swept deep, bringing with it the metallic taste of rust and a need so basic it threatened to steal my thoughts, unlearn everything I knew, and embrace a life of existing purely to be with Q.

His hands dropped to caress my body. Squeezing my h*ps once, he captured my right wrist and fanned my arm out, all the while f**king my mouth with his sinful tongue. He pulled away when the back of my hand touched wood. His eyes were bright and pupils dilated. “Everything about you is mine. Do you deny it?”

Breathing hard, battling the urge to rub my pu**y against his leg between my thighs, I shook my head. “I don’t deny it.”

With a sharp nod, Q reached over me to wrap a soft leather cuff around my wrist. With a fierce expression, he tightened it until I felt a faint heartbeat in my fingertips. A sharp burst of panic rose from nowhere, gripping my heart, making it flurry.

Q froze, staring at me unguarded. The lust sheening his face caused more wetness to trickle. I couldn’t run and the knowledge turned my body on beyond compare.

“You’re frightened.” His voice was so gruff, I barely understood him.

I opened my mouth to deny it, but why would I hide the truth? Q lived for the truth, he fought for authentic fear.

“You tied it so tight. I’m afraid I’ll never be free.”

He chuckled. “And you think you’re free when you’re not restrained? You don’t know me at all, esclave.” Capturing my left arm, he repeated the process until miniature beating hearts thrummed in my fingers. “You’ll never be free of me. I’ll never be free of you. It’s fate who decides, and fate gave us each other.”

Memories of our blood oath sprung to mind. “Nous sommes les uns des autres.” We are each other’s.

He sucked in a breath; his face danced with shadows caused by early morning clouds. The sun dappled the room in spotlights of warmth, but not this corner. In this corner only shade was permitted.

“Oui.” He bent to kiss me, but I kept my eyes wide open. Focusing on his sculptured cheekbones and how achingly lonely his gaze appeared. We never looked away as his lips worked mine, soft but dangerous at the same time. His tongue skirted the fine line of unbreakable discipline and uncontrollable passion.