Until the Sun Falls From the Sky

Chapter Seven The Punishment

Lucien walked into the kitchen from the garage and halted.

Edwina was busy at the sink scouring pots and pans. The living area looked like an exclusive boutique exploded in it. Red tissue paper, ribbons and black boxes were scattered everywhere, mounds of the clothing Lucien purchased for Leah were smoothed out on the backs and arms of furniture. On the countertop of the island bar were three used martini glasses all with silver toothpicks resting in varying states of martini remains. One still had a half-eaten olive on it.

Edwina turned to him with a bright smile on her face and he instantly knew she was intoxicated. He saw it and he smelled it.

This surprised him.

In the forty years she’d worked for him he had never, not once, come to his concubine’s home to find it a mess, to find the kitchen not sparkling clean, to find Edwina inebriated while on duty.

He’d seen her that way, of course, during parties or celebrations where she attended as a guest. For instance the birthday parties he threw every year for his concubines past and present. And the first anniversary of The Bloodletting which it was a tradition to celebrate.

Any other time, never.

“You’re here!” Edwina greeted happily, a huge drunken smile on her face.

Lucien’s eyes scanned the room again and went back to Edwina. “What happened?”

She glanced over her shoulder at the mess, lifted a hand from the sink and waved it around, slopping soapy water and bubbles on the floor, the counter, her shoulder.

“We had a fashion parade,” she explained bizarrely, ignoring the mess she made and went back to scouring. “Leah’s up in your bedroom.” Her voice dropped to a happy murmur, “Such a sweet, beautiful girl.”

Lucien studied his housekeeper.

Leah was hardly a girl. She was forty years old, for God’s sake.

She was, of course, beautiful. But sweet?

“How is she?” Lucien found himself asking and he had no earthly idea why.

He had also, in the years he’d employed Edwina, never requested such information.

Then again he’d never needed to.

“Oh, she’s fine. Settling in. She’s so cute. You should have seen her tonight. She was hilarious.”

Fascinated by the idea of a cute, hilarious, sweet Leah “settling in”, Lucien tired of the discourse with Edwina and headed for the stairs.

“Good night!” Edwina trilled gaily behind him.

Lucien didn’t reply.

Five strides into their room, Lucien saw Leah exiting the bathroom. He again halted.

She was wearing the lingerie he’d sent.

He saw he’d been wrong in his thoughts when he’d watched the stick thin model sashaying down the short runway displaying it at his personal showing when he was ordering Leah’s wardrobe the day after her Selection.

He had, in his mind, expected it to look far better on Leah’s generous curves.

However, he had not anticipated it looking that much better.

She was wearing her robe over it but the robe had fallen open at her sides exposing the camisole and pants. The cups of the camisole hugged her full breasts, the silk ending just above the nipple so a tantalizing hint of the aureole peeked through the lace, a chill in the air obviously causing her nipples to harden against the silk. It hugged her midriff and stomach like it had been made for her. The hem of the camisole left only a glimpse of smooth skin above the underwear. Her long legs went on forever beneath the lace of the panties.

He felt his body’s immediate response to the sight of her and he liked it.

Her face had been averted when she walked out of the bathroom but it snapped around, she focused on him and cried, “Lucien!”

Lucien only had a moment to brace before she flew at him, running flat out across the room and at the last instant launched herself full body at him.

Stunned and unsure of her intent, he caught her in his arms, his hands cupping her ass as she wrapped her long limbs around him.

Instead of attempting, however pointless such an effort would be, to tear him limb-from-limb, she caught his gaze and he noticed she, too, was under the influence.

Very much so.

“Hello, darling, how was your day?” she purred cheerfully, if drunkenly.

“Interesting,” he replied truthfully, this exact moment being indicative of his interesting day.

He was on guard, not certain what her game was.

His day had been interesting. Starting with the roller coaster ride of their morning and ending with Leah’s current behavior, it included an afternoon meeting with her aunts. A meeting where they explained their concern that they hadn’t heard from Leah after The Bloodletting. A meeting where he declared his intentions and ascertained their tentative allegiance. They were hesitant, considering what it might mean to the future of their family, indeed to the future of all concubines. But they were also not willing to defy him.

He wasn’t entirely surprised at this. They were Buchanans and obedience had been ingrained in them for centuries.

Leah’s hand moved to fiddle with the collar of his shirt, bringing his attention back to her.

“Mine was too,” she shared.

“Is that so?”

Her eyes went from his collar to his and she nodded. Fervently.

“And what did you do today, my pet?” he asked softly, reading her mood and relaxing into it.

“First off, I tried to escape.”

His relaxation fled and his body went solid but she didn’t notice and kept talking.

“I couldn’t, of course, you took my wallet, my passport, my jewelry, the keys to the car.” Her eyes narrowed on him and she declared, “It was very vexing.”

Her words, informative and not accusing, caused his body again to relax.

He struggled with the desire to laugh and won before he repeated, “Vexing?”

She nodded, smiling at him and he felt his body go solid again, “Yes. Vexing. Very.”

He wasn’t listening to her words. He was staring at her mouth.

He’d never seen her smile.

This wasn’t strictly true. He had, from a distance, many times in the last twenty years. He’d just never had it directed at him.

His body reacted to that too, in a way he very much liked.

He could remain standing holding her body to his for eternity (literally). But he walked her to the bed and sat on its edge, settling her into his lap, her soft curves pressing against his hardening cock.

He liked this too.

She was still talking. “Then the men arrived with the boxes. Lots of boxes. Lots and lots and lots.” She tipped her head to the side and queried, “Are you moving in?”

“Yes,” he replied and she nodded again, apparently perfectly content with this idea.

Her hands went to his shoulders and she started to tug off his suit jacket. He reluctantly let her go to assist her with getting it down his arms. All the while she did this, she was still babbling.

“Then Stephanie came over and, Lucien, you should have seen her outfit. It was the bomb.” Lucien felt his mouth twitch against the effort of smiling, her eyes dropped to it and she announced, “I like it when your mouth does that.”

He blinked at her slowly and asked, “Pardon?”

She threw the suit jacket unceremoniously to the end of the bed and then touched the corner of his mouth with her index finger too briefly and her eyes came to his. They were dancing.

“When you fight a smile. I like it. It’s sexy,” she explained.

Fucking hell, but she was magnificent.

He thought she was magnificent when she fought him and when he felt her fear of him and attraction to him. The challenge was exhilarating.

But she was even more magnificent now. He wouldn’t have believed this was possible but the evidence was sitting in his lap.

He didn’t like to feed when the mortal servicing him was inebriated. Tipsy, perhaps, downright drunk, no. And Leah was beyond inebriated, she was hammered.

She’d brushed her teeth, however, obviously very thoroughly. And her scent was strong enough to overpower the vodka he also caught mingling with her essence. Not to mention she was, as Edwina described her, hilarious, cute and definitely sweet.

Therefore, he decided to break his own rule and feed, regardless of the fact that she was smashed.

His hands went to her robe, pushing it wide over her shoulders and she didn’t hesitate with dropping her arms in an effort to aid him to rid her of it.

She also kept chattering. “Then Stephanie and I had a natter then we had some martinis then your other boxes came and we had a fashion parade. Then Stephanie stayed for dinner, we talked Edwina into having martinis with us and, because you sent a lot of boxes, we had even more of a fashion parade.” She stopped when her arms were loose from the robe and he let it drop to the floor. Both of her hands came back to his shirt and she began fiddling with his buttons but her eyes never left his as she continued happily, “I like Stephanie. She’s funny.”

His arms circled her waist, one hand drifting down over her ass, one drifting up to capture and play with a lock of her soft, thick hair.

“So you had a good time?” he asked softly and she nodded again fervently and he went on. “Did you like the clothes?”

This time her eyes grew wide and her nodding became fanatical.

“Especially this.” Her head tipped down so quickly it nearly collided with his nose and he had to jerk his head back. Then she pointed to the camisole. When she was done, her head snapped back up, her hand went directly back to his shirt, this time slapping flat against his pectoral and she kept speaking. “I love this! It’s perfect for me. And the black dress. The black dress is divine. Everyone thinks so!”

“I’m glad you liked them, pet,” he murmured on a smile.

“Oh, I do. With your and my stuff, the dressing room is going to be almost full,” she declared as if this was a feat akin to climbing Mount Everest. Then her face fell before she informed him, “You forgot shoes.”

His hand twisted, capturing a fistful of hair and he told her, “Those are arriving tomorrow.”

Her body jerked as she threw both arms straight up in the air and shouted, “Yay!”

With such an enchanting opportunity exposed to him, he released her hair and both of his hands curled around her waist and drifted up the silk at her sides. He did this as he chuckled.

He felt a tremor slide through her, her hands settled on his shoulders and she declared, “I like that too.”

His eyes moved from her torso to her face, “You like what?”

“When you chuckle. It’s all rumbly. I especially like it now when I can feel it.”

A wave of desire tore through him so strong if he’d been standing he’d have gone down to a knee. His fingers tightened reflexively against her ribs and he had to concentrate so as not to snap them.

She began fiddling with the buttons of his shirt again and he realized she was releasing them.

“Leah,” he called, attempting focus and finding, just as at her Bloodletting which had been the first time in his very long life, the effort was difficult.

She was biting the side of her lip in concentration, her eyes on her task before she asked, “What?”

“What are you doing?”

Her head came up and she answered, “Taking off your shirt.”

“Why?”

She grinned playfully. “I like your chest. It’s way better than your chuckle.”

After imparting this information on him, she wriggled her bottom in his lap.

As much as he was enjoying her, he was done.

He had her on her back in an instant, his torso covering hers, her legs still wrapped around his waist so his crotch was seated against the heat of her. His mouth at her throat, he slid his tongue along the length of her jugular, preparing her.

He did this carefully, savoring the taste of her but keeping a rigid hold on his control.

“It freaks me out when you do that,” she whispered and his head came up.

His hand slid down her side, around, over her ass, pulling her up as he pressed his groin to hers.

“Do what?” he asked.

“Move so fast.”

His mouth went to hers as he ground their hips together. When he did, without hesitation she reciprocated the movement and the effect was staggering.

“You’ll get used to it.” His voice betrayed his heightening arousal.

She opened her mouth but didn’t get a chance to speak because he kissed her.

He dispensed with the discovery he’d used to initiate their first kiss. His tongue swept inside her mouth and her reaction was delightfully immediate. Her body bucked upwards seeking something more even though his weight was pressing her into the bed. Her head tipped to the side giving him better access and her tongue tangled boldly with his. Her hands tugged his shirt from his trousers and he felt them travel up the skin of his back.

Her touch sent shockwaves tearing through his system and he growled into her mouth, deepening the kiss. She welcomed it, taking from him at the same time she gave and invited… no, demanded more.

He gave her what she wanted and contentedly absorbed her moan when he did.

He broke their connection and his mouth glided to her ear.

“I like the way you kiss me, pet,” he whispered there and he felt her head turn.

Her lips close to his neck, she breathed, no guard over the wonder in her words, “You’re so big, heavy, strong. You make me feel tiny. I’ve never felt tiny. Not in my whole life.”

He sensed this was important, something she’d always desired but never had and he was pleased he gave that to her. His mouth went back to her throat, gliding again along her skin. He was suddenly intent to give her something else, something she couldn’t imagine she’d long for but she would, he’d see to it.

“Your mouth is going to tingle, sweetheart,” he murmured against her skin before he used his tongue on her again.

Her neck arched, her limbs tightened, her nails curled into the flesh of his back.

“It already is,” she whispered. “Why is that?”

“I’ll explain later,” he replied quietly, his hand at her ass moving around her hip slowly as his mouth drifted up her neck, to her jaw, back to hers.

He caught her gaze as he lifted his hips away from hers and his fingers trailed along the waistband of her panties.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked softly.

Her eyes grew wide and her lips parted. Lucien loved it when she looked at him like that.

Especially now.

So much, he didn’t wait for her reply and his hand dipped into her underwear. He touched her, finding her sleek, hot and very, very wet.

She was ready and as if to prove this further, at his exploring touch, her neck arched in invitation. An invitation he gratefully accepted.

His lips went to her throat and his teeth tore through, her blood flowing into his mouth at the same time he slid a finger inside her.

She gasped and it wasn’t in pain. It was a sound of sheer pleasure and her hips bucked against his hand.

He withdrew his hand even though he knew she wanted it and he wanted her to have it.

Tonight, however, her lesson would be only about the feeding.

She whimpered when she lost his hand but he drew her blood into his mouth. He heard her second gasp, this one surprised, excited. Her hands coming out of his shirt and, just like that morning but with both of them this time, they came to his neck, up, and then her fingers fisted in his hair. Not to pull him back, to hold him to her.

Her body arched, pressing into his as he heard her heart race, her blood scoring through her system, her breath coming in wilder and wilder pants.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, her hands clenching tighter in his hair. “Oh my God,” she cried softly, trembling underneath him.

His arm wrapped around her low on her hips and he held her body tightly to the warmth of his. He stroked her wound with his tongue and reared up, taking her mouth with his and he kissed her hard.

She kissed him back, her hands still clutching his hair, her mouth greedy.

He broke the kiss and her eyes slowly opened, alluringly foggy with desire.

“Do you see why I like the taste of you?” he asked, his voice a low growl.

“Yes,” she whispered her admission, her voice a soft moan.

He buried his face in her throat again, reopening the wound and drinking deep.

“Lucien,” she whispered.

He sucked fiercely, thrilling at the sound of his name on her lips when her blood, just as delicious, surprisingly even more so with the vodka mingled with it, was pouring down his throat. This caused her to gasp yet again and writhe underneath him.

She was done, he knew it. He’d taken enough. Even though he wanted more, his mouth detached and he swept his tongue along the wound. The bleeding stopped instantly. The healing had already begun.

He pulled his body over her and rolled to his side, gathering her in his arms and taking her with him. He tucked her face in his throat, cautious with the still healing wound.

Her breathing was heavy as was her pulse and she whispered with a mixture of disappointment and marvel, “You’re done?”

He shook his head and tightened his arms, drawing her deeper into him.

“I’m not done, pet. You’re done.”

She wasn’t done. He knew it the way she moved restlessly against him.

It wasn’t the feeding she wanted, it was the climax he’d brought her so very close to and didn’t let her have.

Her head tilted back and he tipped his down to face her.

“You can’t be done,” she whispered and it was a soft demand.

“I’m done,” he declared.

“You’re not,” she returned, her voice getting stronger as were her movements, her hands sliding over his body, her own body pressing into his.

“Be still, Leah,” he commanded.

“No,” she refused.

“Leah.”

She pressed closer, her hands moving over his ass, pulling in as she returned, “Lucien.”

He reached behind him, wrapping his fingers around her wrists and pulling her arms around to the front. He rolled to his back, bringing her with him so she was on top, her arms cocked and caught between them. The deep red of her wound was blazing but the skin was closing.

Her eyes narrowed and she pressed her soft hips into his still hard ones, demanding, “You can’t seriously think we’re finished.”

“I know it.”

“You’re in a state!” she observed angrily.

“It’ll pass.”

“I’m in a state,” she informed him, her anger escalating at her need to point out her condition.

He left her hands trapped between them and he circled her with his arms, giving her a small shake before he held her tightly.

“Do you remember this morning?” he asked softly and her brows knitted over ever-narrowing eyes.

“How could I forget?” she snapped.

“This is your punishment.”

She pulled in a sharp breath as understanding dawned.

Then she said on a heavy exhale, “You’re joking.”

“You’ll go unfulfilled until you learn your lesson, pet.”

She blinked, hard and fast, her lips parting in shock and anger.

All vestiges of cute, hilarious, sweet, intoxicated Leah had vanished. Lucien uncharacteristically felt doubt about his decision to carry through with her punishment.

This was mainly because he liked cute, hilarious, sweet Leah and he wanted her back.

This was also because she wanted him. She made this abundantly clear without any evasion. Even if she hadn’t, he could smell it.

This was also because he wanted her. He wanted to bury himself inside her slick, wet core. He wanted to fuck her so hard he felt her body jolt under his with his thrusts. He wanted to listen to the noises she made, feel her sleekness clench around him, smell her sex in his nostrils and watch her face as she came.

He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted a female, vampire or mortal.

Even Maggie.

And the power of his desire caused him to doubt the wisdom of carrying through with her punishment.

She tried to tear free of his arms but he moved swiftly.

He exited the bed, taking her with him, standing her on her feet. She swayed a moment then moved to flee but he caught her wrist in an unbreakable grip, ripping his shirt open at the same time, the buttons flying. He released her for less than a second, taking his shirt off. Then he tossed her back into bed and as she scrambled to get her limbs in order, he finished disrobing. Before she could escape, he had her on her side, her back to his front, tucked into the bend of his body, his arm holding her captive.

“Let me go,” she demanded, her breath straining, exposing her body’s inability to keep pace with his.

He settled behind her. “Leah, sleep.”

She struggled. “Let me go.”

He gave her a shake and repeated, “Sleep.”

She kept struggling and he contained it effortlessly. This went on for quite some time.

Suddenly she stilled.

He listened to her heavy breathing and felt her legs move, still wrestling with residual desire.

After some time, she settled.

He thought she’d conquered her body and finally fell asleep.

Instead, in a fierce, tortured whisper, she declared, “This morning, if you told me there was a way I could hate you more, I wouldn’t have believed it. But it’s true.”

Yes, he seriously doubted the wisdom of carrying through her punishment.

“Leah,” he murmured into her hair.

“I’ll never stop hating you,” she vowed, her voice scratching with her passionate assertion.

He pulled her closer and made his own vow. “Yes you will, my pet. I’ll find a way through.”

“Impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible.”

“We’ll see,” she said, her voice dripping with doubt at his words as well as conviction to her oath.

Yes, Lucien thought but didn’t speak aloud, we’ll see.

Lucien woke before Leah.

His first act was to pull back her head gently to check her wound. Fully healed.

His next act was to lie beside her watching her sleep. Her face was relaxed and expressionless, not one of his preferred looks but appealing all the same.

After some time, her eyes fluttered open and, as she had the day before, her expressionless face became bewildered.

And, shortly after waking, as she had the day before, she tensed in preparation for flight.

He caught her close. Her head jerked back, her eyes narrowed and her mouth opened to protest.

He brought his down on hers, hard and demanding her response.

She withheld and began her vain struggles, as usual stubborn to an extreme.

So stubborn, this carried on for long enough that Lucien was forced to try a different tactic. Rolling her to her back and pinning her, his hands moved on her, down her sides, across her belly, up her midriff, all the while his tongue engaged in its sensual duel with hers.

Then his hand moved over her breast, cupping it gently before he snagged her nipple with his thumb.

Her body stopped bucking against his in protest and melted underneath him.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he whispered against her mouth at her capitulation and he took advantage, his finger met his thumb and he rolled her nipple between them.

A delicious noise slid from the back of her throat into his mouth. Her legs opened, one calf wrapping around his hip and he caught the scent of her excitement.

He smiled his triumph against her mouth and slanted his head for another kiss. She met his intent, her own head tipping to the side, her lips pressing against his, no longer resistant but hungry.

He fed her with his hands and his mouth and he kept doing it as she continued to demand it, insatiable, magnificent.

After a time, his hand was in her panties, finger pressed deep and swirling, her mouth against his, breaths sharp and sweet against his lips. She was so deep in her need she was unable to concentrate on kissing him or bear the further sensation of his tongue in her mouth. Her hand was clenched in his hair, her other arm wrapped tight around his back.

“Lucien!” she gasped urgently and he saw it on her face, he smelled it, he knew she was right there.

He withdrew his hand.

“No!” she cried, her hand going to his, fingers wrapping around his wrist.

Her cry sliced through him like a blade. He had been incorrect in what he’d told her the morning before. Even as tortured as her cry was, he suspected this was far more difficult on him than it was on her.

However, he’d chosen his path and he had to continue his efforts at her taming. She had no way of knowing but he knew the reward at the end would be worth the battle.

“Will you mind me?” he queried, his voice was harsh, not with anger but with regret.

Her hazy eyes struggled to focus on his face. “Lucien.”

“Will you mind me?”

He watched the haze clear, his words penetrating, incredulity flooding her face, quickly chased by anger.

“I fucking hate you,” she hissed but even as she did, her hips sought his, her body agitated, struggling with her desire.

Lucien sighed impatiently. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“You’re damn right it’s a no!” she snapped and her body wrenched unsuccessfully against his hold.

After this failure, she let out an enraged, strangled scream.

“Leah, you can end this now,” he told her.

“Go to hell!” she flashed.

“Do you want my mouth on you?” he asked.

“Go to hell!” she repeated.

“Do you want me inside you?”

She froze and shrieked, “Go to hell!”

He threw a thigh over her legs and captured her moving body against his. With a hand in her hair, he tucked her face in his neck.

“You’re very stubborn, pet,” he murmured into the hair at the top of her head.

Her body gave a mighty flex then went limp.

She grew silent. He held her closer.

After long moments, he said softly, “I’ll be leaving soon.”

She made no reply.

“While I’m gone, if you touch yourself, Leah, I’ll know and I’ll have to deal with that too.”

He could hear the pace of her heart increase but her body tensed only briefly before she subdued her reaction.

“Do you understand me?” he pushed.

She remained silent.

“Leah, I asked, do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she gritted between her teeth.

“I’ll be home at ten. We’re going out tonight. I want you ready.”

She didn’t speak.

“Leah, when I talk to you, you acknowledge what I say.”

“I’ll be ready,” she bit out.

“I want you wearing the black dress.”

She made an angry noise but whispered, “I’ll be wearing the black dress.”

His hand moved from her head to her jaw and with his thumb under her chin, he tilted her face up to receive his soft kiss.

Then he left her in bed and went to shower.

After he turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, while he was reaching for a towel, in the sudden silence, he heard it.

His head shot up and cocked to the side.

Quietly, likely muffled in her pillow, he heard her sobs.

Good Christ. He’d broken her.

He’d fucking broken her.

He’d taken a huge step closer to her taming.

He’d expected to feel elation at this moment.

Instead, his eyes met his reflection in the mirror and he growled a low, slow, agonized, “Fuck.”

That night when he arrived home promptly at ten, he opened the door from the garage to the kitchen and found her there, waiting for him in the kitchen.

Her hair was swept back from her face to tumble in a mass of curls down her exposed back. She wore no jewels because she didn’t have any.

She didn’t need them.

The dress was spectacular, elegant and enticing. The spike-heeled, aubergine satin, strappy sandals were delicate, sexy and significantly lengthened her already tall frame, making her striking and, he suspected, to any other man but Lucien, even intimidating. Her makeup was smoky and dramatic, heightening the mystery behind her stunning but expressionless face.

Her eyes caught his and there was no flash, no dancing, they were completely blank.

“Hello, darling, how was your day?” she asked as if she was a robot and this was a prerecorded message set to play at appropriately programmed times.

Suddenly angry, he stopped five feet from her and commanded, “Come here, Leah.”

Without hesitation she moved to him.

His body tensed at her uncharacteristic acquiescence.

“Put your arms around me,” he went on.

She did as he demanded but her eyes remained at his throat.

“Look at me, pet.”

She immediately tipped her head back and caught his eyes.

Trying to read her mood, Lucien sought patience, wrapped an arm around her and cupped her jaw with his other hand.

“You’re angry with me,” he murmured and she shook her head.

“No, darling, why would you think that?”

His patience slipped. “Leah, stop it,” he ordered.

Her head tilted to the side in an unnatural movement. “Stop what?”

His eyes narrowed as her intent came clear. “So, this is your game now?”

“My game?” she asked with what sounded like genuine confusion.

He watched her carefully empty face. Then he decided, so be it.

He could work with this.

In fact, he had a feeling he’d enjoy it.

“I need to change,” he informed her and she made to move away but his arm tightened and he said, “No.”

She stopped and regarded him.

“Kiss me before I go upstairs.”

Without delay she got up on her toes, pressed against him and touched her parted lips to his.

Then she pulled away and asked, as if she sincerely cared about his answer, “Was that okay?”

He thought she’d have trouble with that.

She had no trouble with that.

She was good.

Therefore his tests would need to be more challenging.

“It will do,” he let her go, “for now.”

He walked away but she called to his back, “What do you want me to do while you’re changing?”

“Whatever you want,” he replied and imagined her first thought was to search the house for gasoline and matches.

Upstairs he changed his shirt and was walking back through the bathroom to join Leah when his eyes caught on something. He halted.

Looking in the trash bin, he saw taupe wisps of shredded silk and lace, the lilac-flowered imprints barely nuances in the tatters. He reached down and allowed the obliterated material of the lingerie Leah wore the night before to sift through his fingers.

He straightened, his mouth tightening at the same time he felt a similar sensation in his gut.

Then something profound cut through him. He didn’t understand it and he didn’t fucking like it. It was a feeling he’d never felt in his very long life and a feeling he never wanted to have again.

Last night, wearing that lingerie, she had run to him. Flung herself in his arms Told him she liked it when he bit back a smile. Rejoiced in the gifts he’d given her particularly the camisole and panties. Smiled at him for the first time. And passionately enjoyed her bloodletting.

Now, that lingerie, what would have been a physical reminder to both of them throughout their Arrangement of the splendor of last night, lay shredded and discarded in a trash bin.

And he, and his unwise decision to carry out her punishment even after she’d given glaring indication of what Edwina called “settling in”, was solely responsible for the bleak emotion evidenced in that fucking bin.

“Fuck,” he swore, his stare riveted to the scraps, his mind consumed with what they meant.

Then he cleared his thoughts and walked downstairs to Leah.