"What does that word mean?"
"Wicked female, because that's what you are. Now taste what you've wrought from me."
"I want to," she murmured in truth as she leaned down, lower, closer. Her breasts ached, her nipples swelling into tight points. "I will."
She knew exactly when he could feel her breath on his flesh; his every muscle tensed in anticipation.
"Say the words, Rydstrom. Make me your queen."
"Lower . . . put it in your mouth!"
He's going to bloody do it again. Deny me. She drew back and coldly said, "Your vow, demon. Or I go." , "Never!"
As she rose up, releasing him, she snapped, "You can't win this-you only waste my time!"
His hands fisted above the manacles. "Finish me!"
"Just a few words away!" She cast an illusion over herself of the dress she'd worn earlier. "Maybe next time."
He reverted to his demon tongue, which she didn't have to understand to know he was cursing her vilely. No matter. She turned for the door, leaving him digging his heels in the bed and thrusting that great shaft into the air.
Outside, her ubiquitous assistant was waiting, ready to take direction. Sabine just called her "Inferi." She called all of them Inferi.
Though Sabine was still humming from her encounter with her captive, she attempted to sound calm as she gave out instructions.
She ordered that he be sedated once more, then made to clean himself and see to his needs for the night. After that, he was to be secured to the bed with a collar at his neck, and then have his wrists bound behind his back-just in case he decided to release any steam.
Sabine figured that if he got aroused enough, even a "little bitch" like her would begin to look like a
Pollyanna.
Deep in thought, she left the dungeon, trudged to her tower, then began the six flights of stairs to her room. She knew she should be more alert to danger-Omort had cornered her on her way to her room often enough-but she couldn't get her mind off Rydstrom's body.