Collateral Damage
placed my hands, palms up, on my thighs. The tiny trembles running through me diminished. I bowed my head and steadied my breathing. A sense of calm washed over me.
    His presence wrapped around me the way his arms did every night. I kept my head down. I'd done my part. The rest was up to him.
    "Lovely." He spoke in the deep, rumbling tone he used whenever I pleased him.
    The tone I'd come to value as much as his rare smiles. "There's nothing more precious than willing submission. I'm honored that you've chosen to give it to me, Nicole."
    Speechless, I lifted my head and stared at him. From what he'd said about me belonging to him, I figured he'd taken my submission for granted. It wasn't as though I had a ton of options.
    "There are always options." Little creases formed around his eyes as his smile broadened. "You could go through the motions and have them mean nothing. I was willing to accept that for a while. But after seeing how Cyrus' woman gives everything to him I'd hoped . . . ." He shook his head. "Never mind. I've brought you something.
    And now I think you've earned it."
    I watched him walk across the room and set a bottle of something on the small table between the two leather chairs at the far end of the room. He placed a glass beside the bottle. Then he sat and quickly filled the glass with amber liquid.
    "Brandy." He said in response to my questioning gaze. "I trust you ate well today, as I asked?"
    He never ordered me to eat—not after the first time he'd threatened to force me.
    And I'd managed to get around the sick feeling I got whenever I forced myself to eat three solid meals. His not-so-subtle hints that I wouldn't be very much good to Alrik if I didn't maintain my strength gave me plenty of motivation. I didn't enjoy the food, but I could stomach it.
    Brow furrowed, I circled my index finger over my thumb and nodded.
    "Good. Then come here." He pointed to the floor by his feet. "I think you'll enjoy this."
    The muscles in my thighs tensed as I prepared to stand. Then I glanced up at him and put my hands on the floor. His brows arched as I crawled to him. I grinned and made my movements sensuous.
    He let out a low growl. "Tease."
    Still smiling, I settled by his feet and tossed my hair. "No, sir. I simply aim to please."
    "I wouldn't go that far." He handed me the glass, then stroked my hair as I took a tentative sip. "Do you like it?"
    The raw flavor of sour fruit burst on my tongue, and I moaned. This was the good stuff. The kind I bought myself when I could justify the expense. A treat after a raise or when I lost a few excess pounds.
    "Mmm. How did you—no, don't answer that." I took another big sip, and my eyes rolled back in my head. "This is . . . thank you."
    "You're very welcome." He stroked the column of my throat. "If I tell you I expect something in return . . . ."
    "I don't care." I really didn't. I could already feel a bit of a buzz. I drained the glass and absorbed the glorious burn as the last drop drizzled down my throat. "You didn't have to give me this."
    "Actually, I did. But I'd hoped choosing something you'd like would make it special."
    Oh, I hate when you say things like that.
    Then he said something worse.
    "More?"
    "Please." I held up the glass, wondering just what I'd have to do to get him to give me the bottle. Where it could take me was worth just about anything. I'd drained about half the refill before I considered what the price for this might be. "Should I strip?"
    He laughed. "No, my sweet. You look perfect as you are." He sighed and shook his head. "But please remove the jacket. I'd hate to stain it."
    Stain it? My fingers shook as I undid the buttons to the white suit jacket he'd given me that morning. He always insisted I dress as I would at the daycare—without the smock—when I did lessons with Alrik. I didn't mind him picking my clothes out for me. The outfits were always nice. And he provided jogging suits and comfy PJs to sleep in. As long as I was allowed to

Similar Books

Stratton's War

Laura Wilson

The 13th Target

Mark de Castrique

Conan and the Spider God

Lyon Sprague de Camp

Bloodborn

Nathan Long