Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
NATASHA
T hese days, things weren’t much different than they were during my first go-around with Lachlan, but at least I got to use a toilet. Privately, I thought it was more because Ella and Cristian didn’t want me to pee in their backyard—not that I blamed them, because…gross.
My piercings were back too, along with wrist and ankle cuffs I actually liked.
Gifted to me by Ella and her James Bond crew of highly skilled artisans, the smooth, polished steel hid special treats.
All I had to do was touch a hidden trigger on any of the four cuffs to release deadly sharp blades.
They weren’t long enough to reach a man’s heart but were more than capable of severing arteries or tendons.
Even the matching collar had a little something special added to it. Concealed behind the clasp rested a tiny plastic ampoule containing a poison Ella said could kill within seconds. Wearing it made me want to pretend I was Lucrezia Borgia.
I didn’t want to think about it, but the poison might be my own exit plan if things went south. Knowing Ella, I wouldn’t be surprised if that was what she intended it for.
“Open, Spider,” Lachlan murmured as I knelt under a brilliant azure sky decorated with puffy clouds.
I ignored the milling guards, who pretended they were watching my debasement, and let the fragrance of lemons and olives consume my senses.
Of course, it wasn’t debasement if I consented, now, was it?
Maybe it was, and I just didn’t care as long as it got me close enough to Ronan to kill him. I parted my lips to reveal my tongue, studded with four small platinum balls. Barely a month after I remarried my husband, I’d fallen into automatic obedience, just like old times.
Well, it wasn’t quite like old times.
Instead of being washed with a garden hose, I soaked in a gigantic tub surrounded by orchids, while I indulged in bubbles, candles, and wine.
The sensory deprivation chamber was gone, as was the unseasoned ground chicken and chopped vegetables I ate from a dog bowl.
My kennel was a tastefully sumptuous suite with French doors leading to a balcony overlooking the sea.
I ate kneeling at Lachlan’s feet on a thick cushion, while he fed me high-protein, nutritionally dense delicacies Ella’s chef and my trainer put on my menu. My nights were spent wrapped securely in his arms after hours of making me come until I fell unconscious.
Maybe it wasn’t so surprising that I let him fuck me. I’d kept up with my birth control, and a woman had needs, after all. Thankfully, he hadn’t tried to kiss me since our second wedding night, but stupid me wanted him to. God, I’d almost given in and let him. Talk about too stupid to live.
The truly astonishing part was that Lachlan swore he hadn’t taken a lover either, and I seriously didn’t know how to feel about the fact that I let him sleep with me every night.
Lachlan was many things, but he wasn’t a liar. That wasn’t the only thing I was beginning to believe about him either. I still couldn’t get over the vows he’d spoken, and absurd ideas like forever were intruding into my head like the most annoying earworm ever.
Gotta say, I liked my second wedding better than my first, but yeah, no.
Thankfully, I didn’t have a lot of time to ruminate over that particular folly. After eight-hour days divided between slave practice and a truly sadistic personal trainer who took honing my body and reflexes as his raison d'être…
Let’s just say it didn’t take Lachlan long to send me to dreamland. Hell, I didn’t even dream. It was as if my nightmares knew I was too tired to pay attention, so they decided not to show up.
Seriously, a girl could get used to it. I was in the best shape of my life.
I missed my soft, voluptuous curves though.
Despite my father’s constant jabs about my weight, I thought I looked like one of those gorgeous models in a Rubens painting.
I wished there was some way to keep my formerly generous ass and still be able to wriggle through the air ducts my trainer set up as part of my daily obstacle course practice.
Once Ronan was dead, I’d bake. There would be scones with crème fra?che, cookies, brioche with tender golden crusts and sweetly dense crumb, cakes with homemade buttercream and jam filling… Victoria sponge, pear tarts with candied ginger…
And homemade pasta. All the pasta. I’d make sage-infused brown butter sauce on butternut ravioli.
Or linguini with Puttanesca rich with fragrant olive oil and anchovies…
The Parmigiano Reggiano would be measured with my heart—never a scale or spoon—and fuck anyone who dared give measurements for cheese in recipes.
It was a crime more heinous than using a cellphone in the theatre.
I swallowed a mouthful of drool and tried to focus. As much as I wanted my beautiful, lush body back, I wouldn’t stop training—not when I knew Ronan wasn’t the only person out there who sold humans for fun and profit.
To my disappointment, Lachlan didn’t give me his cock. Of course, I hadn’t expected him to. He used toys on occasion but wouldn’t touch me in public. And he never let me come.
Damn him.
Instead, he knelt and made the bell hanging from my clit hood chime as he pushed a diabolically effective vibrator into my pussy. As the toy sang the song of its people, Daniel strolled to me and sank a fist into my hair before pulling my head back.
I had hair to pull this time. I really wanted it gone before we went after Ronan, but Daniel disagreed unless I was willing to shave my head. I was. Lachlan was very much not in agreement.
The exercise was necessary, no matter how much I hated it. Daniel, Ella, and even Cristian were all trying to accustom me to letting people other than Lachlan touch my hair without going all murder-y on them.
Somehow, they’d all figured out it was a trigger for me, although I never told them how my father used it to drag me down the stairs, across gravel, or pretty much anywhere it would hurt.
“Don’t call her Spider.” Daniel pushed his finger into my mouth and tapped the back of my throat, making me swallow before I gagged. “We’ve discussed this.”
“ You’ve discussed it.” Lachlan turned up the vibe and I relaxed into the sensation, focusing on the conversation as I’d been taught. “My wife is named Natasha O’Donnell. Spider is my slave.”
“Wrong. Spider is an assassin who strikes fear into men’s hearts,” Daniel replied as he used a wipe to clean his hands. “Natasha is a slave, and you need to address her as such to make this work.”
“Master—” I swallowed a gasp as Lachlan twisted the vibe to hit yet another sweet spot inside me. “May I speak?”
“Yes.”
The evil toy stopped its work, and instead of sighing with relief, I kept my voice evenly modulated. “If it pleases you, Master, you could call me Arachne. Tell Ronan you didn’t like my name and changed it. He’ll be dead before anyone makes the connection.”
I didn’t give a shit what Lachlan called me, but he needed to pull himself together and focus if he expected me to kill Ronan without both of us ending up dead.
“Beautiful weaver,” he murmured as he petted my hair. “But you weave death instead of cloth, don’t you?”
Ooh, I liked that. I stifled a shudder of pleasure, hanging on to my slave persona with both hands before I gushed over the compliment.
“Or you could call me Slave. If Ronan asks, tell him I don’t have a name anymore.” As much as I wanted to meet his beautiful blue eyes, I kept my gaze lowered. “If it pleases you, Master.”
“Oh, good job, little one. That will keep your Master on track,” Daniel murmured. Turning away from me, he snapped his fingers. “Justin, do you want this very obedient slave to suck your cock?”
Lachlan growled like a fucking dog and bared his teeth in a legit snarl, despite knowing poor Justin was happily married and wouldn’t touch me.
Rolling my eyes, I got to my feet. At least he’d stopped chewing on Daniel when we worked to desensitize me to touch, but he still couldn’t grasp the finer points of slave ownership.
“Fuck’s sake, O’Donnell.” I got in his face and stabbed my finger into his chest. “What part of you Master, me slave do you fail to comprehend?”
“And we’ve lost her again.” Daniel rubbed his forehead and sighed. “Lachlan, she’s got it. She’s bloody perfect when you’re not being an ass. I’m beginning to think she’s not the one who needs the training.”
“Piss off,” Lachlan muttered. “I will never permit her to be touched by anyone.”
“Then leash me,” I countered. “A leashed slave is untouchable unless their Master gives permission.”
“That will never happen, Natasha.”
“Ahhh!”
The guards scattered like pigeons before a hawk as I strode across the lawn to the cliff overlooking the sea. Lachlan chased after me, either in an attempt to fuel my irritation, or because he wanted to convince me to accept his bullshit.
“Natasha, stop!” he called.
I spun to face him and put my hands on my hips, uncaring that everyone was watching a naked slave prepare to throw down with her Master. “Listen to me, Lachlan, because I will say this only once. I have worked my ass off to get ready for this assignment, but you can’t even get my name right.”
He lifted his gaze heavenward, then sighed and nodded. “I know that, but you’re so damned beautiful when you kneel for me. All I want is my wife, safe and happy, and fuck you if you think this is easy for me.”
Aw, dammit. If I wasn’t careful, Lachlan might just possibly make me fall in love with him. I couldn’t keep listening to that shit without wondering if it was true. No woman could. And that, I couldn’t afford.