Chapter 61 #3
I’m not sure I need it. Still, I get the sense that Leo does. North was right when he said that the man in front of me will probably punish himself for longer than I ever intended to.
Leo reaches down with his free hand and pulls out a small strip of black velvet from his pocket.
“I had this made when I signed the contract.” He traces the tiny ring in the centre with his thumb.
“I know I’ve not earned it yet. I plan to keep working until I’m worthy of you, even if it takes me a lifetime.
I’m not pressuring you at all, but I just got you back, and I don’t want to waste another second if maybe you—”
“Is that a collar?”
His chin jerk is brief. “A discreet one, of course.”
Of course. No one needs to know that the Librarian is desperate for the rector to pour wax over her clamped nipples on a regular basis.
“But when we play, it does this.” He rubs a finger over the back of the clasp, and I feel the brush of his magic as the collar turns from a simple band of soft velvet into a delicate leather martingale with fine silver chains across the front. “If you agree to it, of course.”
“I’ve read about collaring,” I admit, testing the weight of it for myself. “I never added it to the contract because I never thought this would become something permanent.”
His lip quirks. “Nothing is more permanent than the way I feel about you.”
He can be quite the poet when he wants to be.
My cheeks heat. “Then I want it.”
He releases my nape, making me pout, and his face twists into something unreadable.
“I haven’t earned it yet,” he repeats.
My heart falls as the pretty leather is taken away. I should say something, but I can’t find the words. I’m not sure they’d work even if I did. Lowering myself to my knees is instinctual. The way he freezes above me strengthens my resolve, even as my nerves flutter.
“Do you want me to beg for it, Sir?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the floor in front of me.
He groans under his breath. “You don’t play fair, Kyrie.”
“The collar is a gift,” I say. “This”—I spread my hands to indicate my submissive posture before returning them to my lap—“is a gift. Gifts aren’t earned. They’re given.”
Love isn’t earned. The words hang heavy and silent in the air between us.
He doesn’t say or do anything for the longest moment. Then he steps closer, hand falling to my hair, grounding me.
“You make a solid argument.”
I hear the words, but I only relax when he crouches behind me, brushing aside my braid to buckle the leather above the necklace Dakari got me. The collar sits high on my throat, and when he runs his forefinger under the band to check the fit, my breath turns shallow.
“Too tight?” he asks.
I shake my head, mute, as he stands again, circling my kneeling form like a falcon that’s spotted a mouse, before he finally comes to a stop facing me.
His finger lands in the ring at the front, tugging the chain taut. Not restricting my breathing but pressing tighter. A reminder.
“What was that?”
Something in my gut settles.
“No, Sir.” I pause as he releases the ring, allowing the collar to loosen. “It’s perfect.”
He bends to kiss me. “Then I think we’ve kept the others waiting long enough.”
“Where are they?”
He offers me a hand to help me up, then guides me to a brown door tucked beside the one that leads to the parapet. “Well, your list was pizza, sex, and travel. Pierce took care of the first last night, so we decided to help you combine the last two.”
Leo lifts his hand to knock, but the Library must already know where we’re going, because the door springs open eagerly. Beyond the threshold, rolling hills striped with carefully tended grapevines stretch as far as the eye can see.
The door has opened onto the sun-drenched patio of a house set into a hill. It smells of flowers and summer, with the faintest whiff of chlorine from the pool to our left.
“France?” I guess, eyeing the architecture analytically.
“Burgundy,” Leo specifies. “Apparently North inherited this place when Josef died. It’s private, beautiful, and has its own library, which makes it perfect for your first real holiday.”
The air is fresh and warm. How long has it been since I experienced that combination? Even when we stayed at Fort McKinley, it was January. The temperature there wasn’t unsimilar to the misty chill of the realm the Arcanaeum exists in.
The closest I’ve ever come is Jasper’s doorway date to Hawai’i, and that held more of the salt of the ocean and exotic blooms. This breeze makes me nostalgic for the summers of my childhood.
And if there’s a library, maybe North won’t mind me relocating a few books to the Arcanaeum…
I linger at the threshold, glancing over my shoulder.
I’ve not tried to leave since the building manipulated our wells.
Sensing my nerves, the Library conjures a wide-brimmed sunhat onto my head.
My own grimoire rises to shove me out of the door before it shuts behind us.
The purple tome, which is now almost six inches thick, lands on the nearby sun lounger with a thump.