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Leah once more. Just as he was about to speak to Leah—to say

something reassuring and tell her it was going to be okay—Donnatella

piped up again.

"You should know, Marcus, that our little sparrow always had a

special dislike of being penetrated while she was bound.
Sí
, I believe it makes her feel too vulnerable." The Madre seemed to roll that word over her tongue just to enjoy its flavor. "Before she left us so suddenly, we were planning to break her of this silly fear. Is that not true, Leah?"

"She can't speak, Madre," Shannon reminded her. "But I can see her face in the mirror, and it's very red."

Donnatella's grin was blissful. "
Bellissimo
. Proceed, Marcus. Take our little sparrow, and teach her that she cannot dismiss us from her life as if we are nothing."

He swallowed, trying to dislodge the dry lump that had formed in

his throat. This was wrong. It was a violation. Rape, even. Not even

Leah's eyes on him in the mirror—not even the nod of her head that gave

him permission to go ahead and fuck her—could change that. But he had

to do it. No choice, yet again. He could feel the katana's kiss, just over his left kidney as Yugiya urged him forward. And now Shannon had

produced a knife from somewhere, as well. There were stains on the

blade. Clarice's blood, probably, though it didn't really matter. What

mattered most, right at this second, was getting his cock hard enough to push inside of Leah before Donnatella lost her patience and gave the

barmaid permission to haul out the studded dildos.

He closed his eyes and tried to center himself. Tried to conjure up

the recollection of her touch on him in the dark, early hours of morning.

He listened for the memory of her voice in his head, telling him a tale of a far-off land where women dressed in veils that ran and rippled like

watercolors in the rain. He took a breath and smelled...patchouli. Incense.

Felt a hot, dry wind on his face. Heard the beat of the drums, and over

it...

"
When I see you bound and helpless, my mouth waters. I am

powerless over any man, save you. With you, I can do anything I

choose...You can't get away. Surrender is your only option
."

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D'ARC, GALE, KENT, MARCH

He opened his eyes, stepped forward, and laid his hand gently on

Leah's hip. Her skin glowed with the welts he'd raised with the crop. He traced one with his finger, then another. Leah shuddered and pressed

herself into the padded leather of the bench. Trying to avoid his touch?

Maybe, maybe not. He traced a third red line, where it ran diagonally

from the top of her right hip over her ass to her left thigh. She groaned and rocked hard into the bench.

He reached lower and pressed the tip of his thumb into her slit. She

jerked with enough force to make the bench wobble. He let his thumb

glide along her slick crevice, then slipped it inside and made his other thumb join it. Then he spread her open, and she whined into the gag.

Hot. Wet. Deep pink, verging on purple. He could see her clit,

looking swollen and almost bruised. She wanted this...some part of her,

anyway. Didn't she? Or was he telling himself that so he could live with himself later? He couldn't see her face in the mirror. Couldn't check her expression, or look for that quick, subtle nod. His position was wrong,

the angle of reflection too far off.

He closed his eyes and pictured the words he couldn't say. The

questions she couldn't answer—not out loud. Not expecting any reply.

Not even bothering to hope.

Do you want this? Tell me, Leah.

She popped her hips up, tilting her pelvis, making herself available.

Offering herself to him, as definite as any nod. And he was hard again—

ready, willing and able. Good enough.

"Going to fuck you now, Leah. You ready?"

The height of the bench was perfect—Shannon was good for

something after all. He slipped his cock along her blood-hot crease, all the way up to the place where her spine ended, and back down to kiss her clit. She whimpered, her whole body stiffening. He aligned himself and

pushed, slow and steady. Her pussy opened around the head and seemed

to suck him inside. Hungry. Greedy. He bit the inside of his cheek to

keep from grunting and palmed the ripe curve of her abused ass.

Smooth constriction, and so damned hot he had to grit his teeth and

count backwards by sevens to maintain control. He sure as hell wasn't

lasting long like this. He would've liked to think it was the leftover effects of Donnatella's drug. He knew better.

He ground himself against her, his flesh hissing against hers with the

sound of a burning match dropped into water. There was just enough

room between the edge of the bench and her belly to slip a hand between

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and find her clit. He made circles with his fingertips, quick and light, and felt her shiver in response. It was all he could give her. Pretending this was a shared experience. Pretending this was about her pleasure and not

her humiliation.

When he began to pump, the deep pull and slip-slide were like hits of

pure sugar dumped straight into his bloodstream. He worked it, sliding all the way out and gliding back in slow. Deep. Eyes closed and telling

himself it was just the two of them, no crazy murdering lunatics in the

peanut gallery. Just them, and he was making love to her, not taking her over a bench while she tried not to choke on a rubber ball.

It was easier than he would've guessed because she was in his mind,

whispering tales of harem chicks and fearsome warriors. Showing him

pictures of what she'd do to him if she could. What she'd offer, what she'd allow him to take. What she'd take from him when he was too spent to

move. It felt like sin and virtue, all tangled in hot, spitting wires. Like an addiction. Like fucking a dream. He didn't care if it was real. It was

enough that he could believe for the three minutes it might take him to

come.

She made a sound, high and helpless, and closed around him like she

meant to keep him there forever. His whole body went tight. He grabbed

her hips and arched, throwing his back into it, wanting every millimeter, every nanosecond he could get. Felt the sweet, hot zing spiral down his

spine and burst, big and too bright behind his eyes and through his cock, and maybe he said Leah's name. Maybe he shouted it. Maybe it was just

in his head.

He slumped against her, sliding his fingers away from beneath her.

She shook under him. He could hear her breathing hard through her nose,

and hoped she wouldn't choke on the gag.

"He's finished, Madre."

"So soon? How disappointing."

He ignored them in favor of rubbing his hand down Leah's back,

over and over. Her skin was hot and dry.

"That's enough, big guy. Get off her." Shannon pulled at his arm and he stepped away. Leah yelped when his still half-hard cock slid out of her and slapped against the back of her thigh.

"Tell me,
cara
," Donnatella said, her face a study in sick fascination,

"is our sparrow crying?"

Shannon left him in the center of the room to circle the bench and

look. "Her face is very red, Madre, and yes. There are tears."

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"
Bellissimo
. Unbind her and let her recover."

Shannon unbuckled the restraints at Leah's wrists and helped her to

stand by yanking hard on her hair. When she was upright, the barmaid

unbuckled the gag as well. Marcus watched as Leah brushed her hair from

her eyes, worked her jaw, fought to regain her equilibrium. She didn't

look at him. Shannon stood only three feet away, glaring. Yugiya kept to his right, katana at the ready.

Leah took a few rasping breaths. Then she licked her lips, cleared

her throat, and said, "Madre, I request permission to thank you properly."

"Of course, my sparrow. Approach."

He watched as Leah wobbled in the Donnatella's direction, not

altogether steady in her heels. The welts on her ass and the backs of her thighs seemed to accuse him out loud, as did the slow and painful way

she lowered herself to kneel at the older woman's feet. He'd hurt her.

With the crop and with his cock, he'd hurt her. He hadn't been given a

choice, but he'd live with that a long time.

"Your pleasure is mine in all things, Madre." She said the words as if they were a catechism she'd learned by heart. Marcus couldn't help the disgust that twisted his gut. This shit was seriously fucked up.

And he'd begun to wonder...was he right in assuming Leah was here

to help him? If so, this was an Academy Award-worthy performance.

"
Molto bene, cara
. But you know your test is not yet complete.

There is yet one more trial to prove your loyalty."

"Whatever you wish, Madre." Leah pulled herself off her knees with obvious difficulty and stood. "May I please use the ladies' room first?"

"
Sí, cara
."

Shannon started forward. "But Madre—"

"You will accompany her, of course." Donnatella's voice was smug and careless at the same time, so certain she had nothing to fear. "Hurry back, my sparrow. Our games are just beginning."

Leah moved to the pile of her clothing and reached for her skirt.

"Wait," Shannon said, "you can't get dressed. Do you think we're idiots?"

"Shannon." Donnatella's tone held a warning.

Leah ignored the blonde and directed her words to the Madre. "May

I please take my bag? I want to freshen my makeup."

The barmaid grabbed the bag from the top of the pile, unclasped it,

and stuck her hand inside to search it. When she pulled out her hand, she held a cell phone—not Marcus's, and thank God Leah was at least that

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smart—and a wallet. She thrust the bag at Leah. "Wear those fancy shoes of yours, and try not to fall on your ass," she hissed, low and vicious.

They left the room together, Leah limping and Shannon trailing her.

Before the door closed behind them, he heard Leah ask Shannon the

time. He missed the barmaid's answer, but what difference did it make?

Time was meaningless. All that mattered now was escape, and now he

had his chance.

He turned, poised to make a move. If he could disable Yugiya—

"Tell me you would not be so foolish, Detective Colton. To die

now? After only thirty minutes of freedom? Surely you'd rather wait and

know the end-game,
sí
?"

As Donnatella spoke, Yugiya moved nearer, her stance threatening.

She lifted the katana over her head. The moment stretched between the

two of them, taut and endless. He watched the young woman's face,

taking her measure. Would she really kill him? There was something

there in her face...some uncertainty...

"Stand down, Detective, or I will tell her to take your right arm."

He saw Yugiya's grip tighten on the katana. Saw her arms tremble

with tension. With a grunt of frustration, he stepped back and let his arms fall loose at his sides. Yugiya nodded in acknowledgment, and moved

away.

He'd lost. Again. All he could do now was wait and see if Leah

came through with whatever she was planning.

Donnatella's voice cut through his thoughts. "Do you wonder how I

know what you are thinking, Marcus? When one has been without sight

as long as I, one learns to know the scent of changing emotions. I smell your anger. Your fury. Your helpless rage." She let her head drop

backward and made a great show of sniffing the air. "The perfume of your fear...best of all.
Magnifico
. But not so fine as the fragrance of your pain, I think."

The door opened, admitting Leah, all alone. She didn't give Marcus

so much as a glance as she crossed the room to Donnatella's side.

"Madre? Something's wrong with Shannon. I think she's ill."

Donnatella frowned. "Shannon is never ill."

Leah looked at him then. Two bright red spots of color had formed

high on her cheekbones. Her eyes sparked at him from across the room.

He could practically taste the adrenaline coursing through her, and it

sparked a rush of his own. Something was definitely up.

She turned back to the Madre and said, "I think it's her stomach. She 213

D'ARC, GALE, KENT, MARCH

said she thought she'd eaten something bad."

Donnatella's frown deepened. "This is most inconvenient. I'll need

to summon another acolyte."

"No need to bother, Madre." Leah leaned in close to the other

woman, and softened her voice 'til Marcus could barely make out her

words. "What do you require? I'm ready to serve."

He watched Donnatella's face for signs of suspicion. She appeared

to consider Leah's suggestion. Finally, she smiled. "
Sí, cara
. I will choose to trust you."

Donnatella stretched up to whisper in Leah's ear. Marcus watched

Leah's face as she listened. Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip. Then she nodded and turned away toward the cabinet. He glanced at Yugiya,

who was also watching the action on the other side of the room. If he

could just pivot quickly enough, he might be able to disarm her—or

maybe grab the debris from the table and use it as a weapon—

"Detective?"

It was the first time Leah had addressed him since leaving him the

previous morning. He turned to look at her. She was moving toward him,

and he noticed her feet were bare. What'd happened to those stupid