by Esme Devlin
“Where are you going?”
Silence.
“Baron?”
I hear him chuckling to himself, but I have no idea where it’s coming from. I didn’t even hear his footsteps. I try to slow my breathing and listen, and I hear a thud sound, like heavy metal against wood.
He must be taking his mask off before he comes back to me.
I wait patiently, my stomach doing somersaults.
But there are still no footsteps.
“What are you doing?”
“Oh, sweet girl. You though it would be that easy?” He laughs. “If you want to kiss me, you shall have to find me.”
My heart sinks. This isn’t how it was supposed to be.
I’d prepared myself for him lying on top of me. I’d even tried to prepare myself for him going further than a kiss.
What I hadn’t prepared myself for was fumbling around in the dark, looking like a complete fool, and having to chase him.
“This isn’t fair,” I tell him.
“Fair?” He sounds highly amused. “Fair in comparison with what, exactly? This is fair. I told you to kiss me like I was the air you needed to breathe. Now get off your back and prove it to me.”
There is truly no easy way to win with him. And yet again, I find myself naively thinking there would be. I slide my legs off the bed and settle them down on the cold wooden floor.
I try to steel myself before getting up.
This is my room. It is not too large, and there is not too much furniture to bash into. I just need to walk around the bed.
Standing up, I turn myself and take a few cautious steps. The drapes that hang around the corners will appear soon, and then the bedpost. From there, it’s only perhaps three or four steps until I reach the dresser where he put his mask.
Easy.
Unless he moves.
Which, of course, he will.
Only a foolish girl wouldn’t anticipate that, and I’m trying desperately not to be that girl anymore.
My hand curves around the bedpost, and I feel silly and embarrassed. My movements are clumsy. I’ve spent my life being watched, being put into difficult situations for the entertainment of others, but this is… different.
Why is it so different with him?
I cut myself off before I can start down that trail of thought. This isn’t the time for musings. I need to be alert. He is stronger than me in every way a person can be, and now he has another advantage. He can see what I’m doing.
I take those three steps and hit the dresser on the fourth. I reach out, one way and then the other, feeling nothing each time.
He has moved.
I spin around, my hands behind me resting on the edge, unsure of where to go next. I can feel the warmth from the candles on the dresser, warming the bare skin on the backs of my arms. I could have easily burned myself if I hadn’t been paying attention.
I could have burned myself.
Would a man who takes such care in the way I dress, the way I paint my face, have allowed that?
I turn back around. This is a gamble. Ruby makes it look so easy, but she’s been playing with fire for as long as I can remember. There is really no way I can do this without hurting myself.
But if I’m right, he won’t let that happen.
I slide my hand across the polished wood surface until it reaches a pillar. My fingers trace the smooth wax all the way to the curve at the top. I let them follow the heat.
Slowly.
It’s hot now.
I must be millimetres away.
Just a little further.
An arm grips around my neck and yanks me back.
Adrenaline floods through my body as he pulls me those few steps towards the bed. He releases my neck only to let me fall. My stomach twists, but the landing is soft.
I have no time to recover before I feel him on top of me. Stalking me like a lion stalks his prey.
“That was… foolish. Clever, but very foolish,” he says.
I try to catch my breath through heavy pants. “And that makes… absolutely no sense.”
He lowers his weight down on me, pushing my leg to the side so he can claim the space between them. He’s shirtless, and his body presses hot against mine. “The truest things often don’t.”
I feel his breath warm on my cheeks as he says the words.
For the first time, he is right there.
Not a metal mask. Him.
Slowly, as if I’m again reaching out to stroke the flames of a candle, I bring my hand to his face.
And then the other one.
His jaw is rough, as if he’s not shaved in a little while, but the surrounding skin is soft. I stroke his cheek with my thumb, and since he doesn’t object, I explore further. Straight nose. Full, soft lips. Heavy eyebrows? It’s hard to tell.
“If you’re quite done with fondling me, can we get on with it?”
I almost laugh at him. His tone says he’s bored, but I know that’s just a guise. If anything, I’m beginning to find it endearing.
“You don’t like to be touched?”
He laughs. “Oh I like to be touched. Just not used to it on my face, is all.”
I wonder when he was last touched there? If he’s as serious about the disguise as he makes out to be, probably a very long time.
But he cuts me off before I can ask him. “We have business to attend, do we not?”
The boredom is back, and this time it’s dramatic.
I drop my hands from his face and let them settle at the sides of my head. “Business? I am business to you?” I ask playfully.
He makes a hmm sound through his nose, and I feel it on my cheeks. “I think it was you who turned this transactional, was it not? Cold hearted wench.”
“Wench?!” I’m giggling now. I read that word in an old romance book in his office. “What are you, a medieval pirate?”
I can almost picture him grinning. “I’m a fan of those times. Savage and brutal. They had ways of torturing people that would make even me shiver. Fascinating.”
“Sounds… terrifying,” I retort.
His breath gets warmer. He’s leaning down.
I suck in a breath as his hand pushes my hair back from my face.
“Are you scared of me?” he asks. His lips must be only an inch or two away from my face.
“I…” I start to speak before I can think about the answer. That was a mistake. “I —”
He cuts me off with the press of his lips.
It’s soft and… tender.
Not in any way aggressive.
He pulls back, and I feel breathless. Dizzy, even. I can feel my eyelashes against the blindfold as I try to blink through the daze. Thoughts swirl in and out of my mind like smoke. What was that? Why wasn’t he…? Was that all he wanted?
“Think before you speak, sweet girl. I’m feeling especially patient tonight.”
I’m… what was the question? Oh. Am I scared of him…
There is no straight answer to that.
“Sometimes.”
He chuckles. “Well then, I shall have to work harder.”
I’m about to ask him — harder at what? At being less or more terrifying? But I don’t get the chance to verbalise that.
His lips claim mine once more, and this time it’s not a gentle press. This time, he takes my bottom lip into his mouth and presses down with his teeth. A moan escapes me at the shock of it, and his hand goes for my thigh, pulling it up into an arch beside his hard body.
I want to touch him, but I’m frightened.
Scared and curious, all at the same time.
He releases my lip with a pop and draws back, but I still feel his warm breath. My hands reach up to his shoulders, curiosity winning. He really is hot to the touch.
He sighs as I trail my hands across his shoulders and down his biceps. He has the body of a man who doesn’t just shoot people. No. He could kill with those arms.
The thought of it does something strange to my body.
I become even more nervous, my heart thudding in my chest. My stomach feels like it’s about to sink into the mattress.
He leans down again, this time to trail kisses up my neck. My back arches into him of its own accord. I can’t stop it even if I wanted to. Is this how it always is?
This is all so new to me. Everything he’s done with my body this far has been new. Surprising.
I realise it might not be fear that has my pulse racing. Maybe it’s excitement. Those kisses trail along my jaw. The hand takes a hold of my hip, massaging it under his fingers.
He’s being gentle with me.
His threats and mind games seem a million miles away as he hovers over my lips.
Three times he touched me with his lips. Each of them have been a hint. A suggestion. An opportunity for me to respond.
Realisation dawns in my mind and I feel it like a warmth in my belly. He’s trying to make this easier for me. For the first time since we both set eyes on each other, he is helping me to win.
My lips part. I don’t even know if he can see them, but he’ll feel it. We’re breathing in the same air. My hands slide over his hard body, tracing his neck and running through his hair.
I pull him closer. Just an inch. Just to see if he’ll take the rest.
“You don’t even understand how wonderful that feels,” he whispers, sighing slightly. “To have you want me. Even if it’s pretend.”
“I... I’m not. It’s not—“
“Shh.” He hushes me. His hands cup the sides of my head. “You don’t need to lie to me, sweet girl. Sometimes silence is kinder than lies. Just let me have this.”
I pull his head down that final inch. I want it, but I get the sense Baron needs it.
He moans, a low, throaty sound as I take him in. All of him. As I let him explore.
His hands on my head are hard and possessive, but his mouth is so soft it almost aches. This isn’t how I expected. It’s so far from what I expected, it’s knocking me off balance.
He pulls back and lets out a sigh. My breath, when it comes, is hot and heavy. I forgot to breathe. Yet again, I’m left wondering if that was it... it almost seems too easy. And I almost feel disappointed.
If I could have one thing right now, it would be to see his face. If I could have a second, it would be for him to kiss me like the man I’ve come to know. Like he’s inside my head with a lit firework.
He can’t leave me like this.
I pull him down again, and this time I kiss him like I’m hungry. Like he is the air and I’m starved for breath.
My fingers twist in his hair at the top of his head where it grows longer.
His hands slide under my body, pulling me into him while he devours my mouth.
He breaks the kiss to let us gasp for air, and my whole body shudders as he tilts my hips towards him. His stomach is bare against my inner thighs. He pushes against me.
Once.
Twice.
The third time, I’m pushing against him, too. It’s the most achingly satisfying sensation. More intense than my dance, when he was clothed. This time, I can feel my own wetness as he slides against me.
His mouth covers my neck in hot kisses. I turn my head away from him while my fingers dig into his shoulders, trying desperately to find something to hold on to. All the while, the rhythm we created never stops. It just keeps getting worse. Better. I don’t know — more desperate.
My legs wrap around his waist, forcing him closer. It feels like I’m in a race, and if either of us stop then I’ll lose.
“How does it feel to win against me, sweet girl?” he murmurs under his breath between hot kisses.
“It’s… It’s not awful.”
He chuckles, a low rumble in his throat as he moves towards my ear. His hands slide my nightdress up, exposing me to even more of his hot skin.
“Not awful? How very diplomatic of you. We shall have to work on that.”
I cry out as his nails run down the side of my bare body, from my breast to my hip. They are clipped short, but the force of it is enough for that not to matter.
It’s painful.
It hurts.
But it sparks something deep inside me far worse than the ache. Instead of scrambling away in fear, I find myself pulling him closer. Trying to draw him in. Trying to give him more of me, to do with whatever he pleases.
He pulls away from me only to rip the dress up further, letting it bundle around my neck. I’m exposed to his eyes completely and I can’t even see him. It’s the strangest mix of vulnerability and excitement. Just like the night when I first saw him, when I was dancing for my life and everything else faded away — except for him.
His mouth comes down hard on my breast, pulling my nipple into his mouth and sucking with force. His hand drags down my side again, this time even more brutally. And all I can do is writhe against him, too desperate to stop.
My hands clutch at his neck, and I’m caught between trying to push him away and trying to pull him in closer. It’s like being devoured by demon — knowing it’s wrong but not quite being able to find the strength to care.
Who cares?
Not me.
Not anymore.
He’s still grinding against me, dragging me higher and higher.
The more he does it, the more desperate I become.
He pushes against me and I’m forced to let him, but just he starts to pull away my hips follow. Chasing him. Chasing some peak I didn’t even know existed.
I’m so close.
His mouth trails higher, layering hot kisses all over me.
He lets out a sigh just before he bites down hard on my neck.
That’s what does it.
It’s the worst feeling and somehow exactly what I needed.
The muscles in my thighs lock up. My stomach clenches. I hold my breath as waves of pleasure take over my body.
He lets go of my neck just to whisper in my ear what a good girl I am, and warmth spreads through my body. Warmth and a strange sense of peace.
I shudder in a breath as I come down from my high, and he stays there on top of me for a while. He doesn’t move, he just breathes me in. His finger traces down my cheek, and I get the feeling he’s watching me.
“Stay here,” he says quietly, pressing another kiss on my lips.
I do as he says while he gets off me. He moves around the room, probably putting his clothes back on and covering his face again.
“Done?” I ask, pulling my dress down.
He’s been quiet for a while.
“Done.”
I pull the blindfold up.
It feels like waking up from a dream.
The man is gone, and the mask is back.
“Sleep well, sweet girl.”
All I can do is nod my head and watch him while he walks away.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SAPPHIRE
I’m sitting in Baron’s office. He’s not here.
In fact, I haven’t seen him since the night we… kissed.
When I was last in here, I’d claimed to have been lonely. While that wasn’t completely a lie, my loneliness wasn’t the main reason for making the deal. I wasn’t that lonely.
But things were still new then. I was discovering new things on a daily basis. Still turning down corridors and finding them bricked up. Still getting confused on my way to the kitchen.
And I knew I was never far away from human contact and conversation, even if it was always with the same man.
Now… now I really am lonely.
He sends Andrei to my room to check on me and secure me to the bed at night. Andrei only ever has two phrases for me — good evening Miss, and sleep well Miss.
That is all.
Usually by the time he comes to “tuck me in” I’ve retired hours before. I sit in the chair that used to be Baron’s, and I try to read the foreign words of the books he gave me. His favourites, apparently. I think one is Latin, and the other I have no idea what language it is. The words mak
e no sense, but at least I can pretend I’m learning something.
And it was sitting in that very chair that I realised my mistake.
I should have put a timeframe on our deal.
Yes, I won. I beat him at my game. But I wasn’t smart enough to anticipate his next move. And now I think he’s playing with me, even though he’s absent. His absence is the game. I told him I was lonely, I told him he wasn’t enough for me, and now he’s showing me exactly what that means.
And when I think about him, even if it starts with something horrible he has done… it always ends up in the same place. The night when he kissed me so gently and hurt me so brilliantly.
I’ve come to realise just how much I miss the way he made me feel. I was always walking on a razors edge with him — and there was something exciting about that. But not only that, it was the way he made me think. I had to be alert around him at all times. One wrong word or sentence could set off something unexpected. With Baron, I was never sleepwalking through life. I was wide awake and living through every second of it.
The first time I ever felt that way was the night he looked at me for the first time. And I never realised how much I’d come to enjoy that.
So I find myself sitting in his office tonight. I’ve been doing this more and more. The fire is lit, even though he is never here. I’m reading a book written in English — The History of The Roman Empire — repeating the same paragraphs again and again because my mind keeps wandering elsewhere.
I hear the click of the door opening, and my head pops up at the same time my heart stops.
But moments later I feel the disappointment wash over me. It’s not Baron. It’s Andrei. Probably coming to fetch me to bed.
He holds the door open and I sit up in my chair, placing the book down on my lap. A woman enters, her cane tapping across the floor with every second step. I recognise her as the woman I saw on the very first night.
The one who spoke back to Baron.
Andrei pulls a chair out at the table for her. “Can I bring you anything, Celeste? Tea?”
“Tea? Nonsense. Bring us wine. And find something covered in chocolate. Bring us that, too.”
Andrei smiles at her and turns to leave.