Let us see how well the man smiles when his teeth are embedded in my fist.
Contrary to her initial unease, Julia appeared perfectly content with Morgan; she wasn’t the shy, nervous woman she’d once described herself. She no longer seemed weighed down with self-doubts. Nay, she appeared confident. While he was proud of her inner growth, Tristan did not like her ease with this other man, either.
By the time the plumber left, Tristan seethed. Julia was his, and he would not allow another man to poach on his territory.
When the last customer left, Julia wrapped her arms around Tristan’s neck, drew him to her and whispered all the things she wanted to do to him.
“Let us go home,” he croaked, already hard and throbbing.
She smiled, and she nodded.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Never Slacken From Your Duties
JULIA ZIPPED ALONG the highway. She and Tristan were almost home, almost in bed. She patted her purse, sighing contentedly when she felt the comforting bulge of the jewelry box.
She glanced over at Tristan to reassure him, who’d been super quiet since Morgan’s arrival and departure, but his eyes were closed, his skin unusually pale. Sweat beaded on his brow, and his lips developed a tinge of blue.
“Tristan?” Concerned, she alternated her attention between the road ahead of her and the man beside her.
He didn’t respond.
Stomach knotting with fear, she reached over to shake his thigh. “Tristan? Tristan!”
* * *
TRISTAN WAS LOST in a world of darkness and light. His body burned, as if being licked by an inferno of flames.
He lay on cold, hard ground, metal bars circling him, holding him captive. Where…how…
Zirra appeared a few feet away, and he spit a curse. She grinned as she sauntered over and straddled him. He tried to push or kick her off, but his hands and feet were staked to the ground, making movement impossible.
Her grin only widened. “Fight this all you want. I placed an aphrodisiac in your water. You might hate me, but you’re already getting hard.”
She placed his length inside her body, and rode him. As soon as she gained her pleasure, she hopped off, leaving him hard and aching. And he was glad she’d denied him release, for he would have despised himself for giving her any part of him.
This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This is just a memory. Fight it!
“You like being controlled by me, don’t you?” she said as she strode around him. “How can you not?”
His jaw locked mutinously.
“Say it,” she demanded. “Tell me how you’re glad of my domination.”
Forced by the curse, he grated, “I am glad.” Zirra did not deserve such an avowal, untruth or not. She deserved only words of hate.
“What a good little slave you are,” she praised, pausing at his side to rake her nails down his chest. Not as a lover would, but as a master who believed her subject unworthy of tenderness. “Now tell me how much you love me.”
“I love you,” he growled, because he couldn’t not say it. He added silently, I loathe you.
“Liar,” she snarled, baring her teeth in a fierce scowl. “You are a liar. The spell would be broken if you’d spoken true. How dare you lie to me, to your master. You will be punished, doubt me not.” She climbed back atop him, taking him inside once again. Riding, riding.
He fought the urge to come, fought so hard, but in the end, his body betrayed him every time.
Zirra’s spasms ceased soon after his own. Panting, she glared down at him. “All I have ever given you is love, and yet you constantly throw that in my face.” She pushed to her feet once more and donned her robe. “You owe me thanks for the pleasure I just bestowed upon you, slave. I will hear it now.”
The scene changed abruptly. All of a sudden, Tristan found himself chained to a wall in Zirra’s throne room, naked. A progression of women paraded in front of him.
“You are allowed to do one thing to him,” Zirra called. “Only one. But it can be whatever you desire, as long as you do not make him bleed.”
The line seemed endless. He endured cruel pinches, eager tugs and caresses, stinging slaps, and by the end, his skin was a mass of purple and blue bruises. Even the battlefields of Gillirad had not wounded him so deeply.
“I am your master, your true lover,” Zirra said when the last woman left the chamber. “Will you ever lie to me again?”
“Nay. So here’s a bit of truth. I despise you, you heartless hag,” he gritted out.
Her eyes flashed blue fire. “For that you shall spend the rest of the eve exactly as you are.”
Again the image shifted.
Blink. He stood naked before a bed. Zirra reclined on the mattress, white pillows at her back. “Tristan, come over here, darling.”
Without hesitation he obeyed. He crawled up the bed and hovered over her, staying on his knees as he knew she liked. He’d been her slave for years now and knew to hide his disgust.
“I have need of you,” she purred.
“Whatever you wish, you know I will perform.”
Her features softened. “Tell me you want me.”
“I want you.” He deadpanned the words, making it clear he lied.
She bared her teeth. “Tell me how beautiful I am.”
“You are beautiful.” He did not elaborate as she always wished. He made her force his every word and move. He gave her nothing willingly, the only control he had over himself.
“Love me,” she breathed, placing kisses up his chest and neck.
He despised her every touch, wanted to race from this chamber and spew the contents of his stomach each time she glanced his way. “Love is the one thing I am not forced to give you, Zirra. You know that. Your spell was for me to give pleasure to my guan ren. It said naught of love. That was your mistake,
