Chapter 16
Nora
A humiliating sound like a whimper escaped my clamped lips when Dante ripped away the lace robe that provided me with a scrap of modesty.
He tore the delicate material with swift jerks of his big fists, stripping me with brutal efficiency.
When the remnants of the robe fell away, he made quick work of destroying the lewd panties he’d forced me to wear for him.
I wanted to rail at him for being a sick, twisted bastard, but beneath my incandescent ire, I was terrified.
Dante was unlike any man I’d ever encountered before.
He was tormenting me, but this wasn’t a punishment.
Not like when he’d bent me over the dining table and swatted me with the newspaper.
Not like how Luca had spanked me when he’d first kidnapped me.
Not even like when my father’s guards had slapped me when I stepped out of line.
Those were all consequences for my actions. Justified or not, there was a clear reason for my suffering in those instances.
I had no frame of reference for whatever game Dante was playing with me now, and that scared me even more viscerally than his pursuit through the woods. I’d thought I had a chance of escaping him then. Now, I was bound and naked, completely at his mercy.
But he had none. I’d been right when I’d said he wasn’t capable of it. Looking into his glittering green eyes, all I saw was selfish desire and twisted triumph.
He liked my fear and my pain. This was what Luca had meant when he’d warned me that Dante was a sadist.
Luca. I longed for my husband to come and save me from this monster. It’d been nearly twenty-four hours since Dante had taken me from my father’s house. Surely, Luca would come for me soon.
But not soon enough. Not before Dante made me suffer for his pleasure.
Satisfied at my nakedness, he stepped away and crossed the room, approaching the horrific wall of torture implements.
He tapped one long finger against his chin, rubbing it over the stubble that darkened his sharp jaw.
Even in profile, he was heartbreakingly beautiful, a fallen angel with those high cheekbones and dark curls: the Devil himself.
He cocked his head, then reached for a whip with dozens of long, thick leather falls.
I shuddered as he grasped the handle with something like reverence, his elegant fingers trailing over the polished wood.
He turned his wrist, testing the weight and balance of the flogger.
With a short, satisfied hum, he turned back to me.
Fear gripped my muscles tight, and the chains jangled as I twisted against my restraints. His full lips spread in a slow smile as he approached me, those vibrant eyes sparkling with anticipation.
“Please,” I begged, my rage smothered by terror. “You don’t have to hurt me.”
He touched the whip beneath my chin, lifting my face to his where he towered over my much smaller frame.
“Oh, little bird. I know I don’t have to.
I want to hurt you. And you scream so beautifully.
” He leaned in close, brushing his cheek along mine so that he could whisper in my ear like a lover.
“If you just let go and embrace the pain, I’ll help you fly. ”
“I don’t want to be in pain,” I whispered back, my throat too tight to speak more assertively. “Please, Dante, I—”
“Master,” he corrected. “I’m your master, pet. Your husband. When we’re together like this, you’ll address me with the proper respect.”
Despite my terror, I bristled. “You’re not my husband. Luca is.”
He clicked his tongue at me, chiding. “That was a foolish thing to say, darling. You are my wife. You will learn to love being mine. Before we’re finished here, you’ll admit that you belong to me. You’ll know that I’m your true master.”
“No one is my master,” I hissed. “I don’t belong to anyone but myself.”
I’d said the same thing to Luca on our wedding day, when he’d kidnapped me and forced me into marriage.
I hadn’t won against him.
Looking into Dante’s beautiful eyes, I feared that my loss this time would be far more devastating. I was naked and chained, completely helpless to prevent him from whipping me. He would do whatever he wanted to me, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.
He shook his head, dark curls tumbling around his perfect face. “I admire your spirit, but you will learn when to yield to me, Nora.”
He stepped away, and I sucked in a ragged breath. I released it on a scream when the first strike landed, the leather falls kissing my bottom with a loud slap.
He made a low sound of disappointment. “I barely tapped you. You’ll take a lot more by the time I’m finished with you.”
Terror flooded my mind, seizing control of every inch of my body. I didn’t want this. I had to get away.
I twisted and yanked against the restraints. The metal cuffs dug into my wrists with bruising force, and my eyes burned. I blinked rapidly, barely maintaining the willpower to prevent the tears from falling in thick, desperate streams.
The whip touched my spine, just at the base of my skull. The heavy falls dangled down my back, brushing over my hypersensitive skin. A strangled cry of animal fear tore up my throat. More pain than I’d ever known was coming, and he would enjoy inflicting it.
His hand spanned my stomach, stilling my frantic struggles. He traced the line of my spine with the whip, a gentle caress.
“Hush now, pet. Calm. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“You’re the one who’s hurting me,” I accused through chattering teeth. I stopped yanking against the cuffs, but my entire body shook.
“Yes, and you’ll take the pain for me,” he replied calmly, as though I was the one being irrational. “But I don’t want you to cause yourself harm. You’ll damage your wrists if you keep pulling against the chain like that.”
He was right; my wrists ached already. If I continued struggling, I’d tear my skin away, possibly even damage the delicate tendons.
I had no hope of fighting him if I couldn’t use my hands once I was free. Because even though my brain acknowledged the futility of attacking him, the primal part of me wanted nothing more than to claw his eyes out, to protect myself in whatever way I could.
He continued to stroke me with the whip, petting me with the implement that would torture me. The gentle sensation of the soft leather sliding down my back was completely at odds with the way my body was braced for pain. The dichotomy muddled my mind, sensation and expectation polar opposites.
I tried to breathe, and my lungs seized. A choked, hitching sound caught in my throat: the threat of a harsh sob.
I swallowed it down and gritted my teeth, searching deep inside myself for a shred of defiance. Fear would not break me. Dante could play his sick mind games, but he wouldn’t touch the core of who I was. I couldn’t allow it. I didn’t think my soul would survive it.
He brushed a kiss over my cheek, communicating his satisfaction at my capitulation; I’d stopped struggling.
He moved behind me once again. I had less than a heartbeat to brace when I heard the whoosh of the flogger cutting through the air. Then fire raked across my bottom, a harder hit than the first.
I bit my lip, holding in the terrified cry that wanted to escape. Truly, it hadn’t hurt more than when he’d struck me with the newspaper. In the moment, the fear that clawed at my brain was far more potent than the slight burn of the whip.
I could master the terror. It would not rule me.
I would survive this. I would endure, like I always did.
“That’s better,” he approved, noting a change in my posture. “You’re very brave, Nora. But you still think you’re in control. You aren’t. Not with me. Let go.”
A harsher lash, a deeper sting. A hundred needles pierced my skin before the pain sank into my flesh in a heavy throb.
He took up a steady rhythm, landing twin hits on each side of my bottom to kiss my tender skin with heat.
I pressed my lips together and breathed through it, letting the pain wash over me, until it was a low buzz that blanketed my mind.
“You’re doing so well, pet.” There was no hint of mockery in his praise. Whatever I was doing pleased him.
I stiffened, hating him. He wanted me to accept the pain. I wanted to resist, but how could I do anything else? The only way to resist was to absorb the pain and deny its power over me. I would not cry. I would not beg. I would not—
Fire lashed my upper thigh, and a ragged cry burst from my chest before I could contain it. Another hit. Another involuntary scream.
I’d thought there was pain before, but this was incandescent, my sensitive skin burning beneath the harsh rake of the whip.
“So beautiful,” he sighed over my next shriek.
My bound hands curled to fists, rage fueling my resistance. I clung to my will by a thread. Settling into the pain at the beginning had been a mistake; now that I’d let down my walls against it, more flooded my system like a burst dam.
“You’re my wife, Nora,” he said with the weight of an absolute truth. “Not Luca’s. Tell me you’re mine.”
Loathing was a white-hot sun at the center of my chest. I would never belong to this monster. I would never willingly give myself to him.
Luca didn’t own me either. I belonged to myself. No one was my master.
“I’m not yours,” I forced out through gritted teeth.
Rather than becoming incensed, the bastard chuckled. My blood ran cold. He was happy for the excuse to hurt me more.
I had to protect myself. Taking a deep breath, I remembered how I’d floated in the woods last night after he’d utterly humiliated me.
I took another breath and retreated to a dark, quiet place deep inside myself.
Screams made my throat raw and sore, but the pain didn’t decimate me.
I let it rip through me, until it was a rushing tide, and I floated on it.