Eclipsed by Midnight (17 page)

Chapter 11

“This expression of abandon and surrender, of absolute trust, he reserved for the master alone.” ~Jack London

Sasha

The black beast finally comes to a stop in front of the house, pulling up the drive in a crunch of ice and snow from the last storm. The entire property appears more ominous than usual, triggering me to withdrawal my relaxed ease. Senses spiking on alert as we exit, I catch sight of Etienne’s long, chiseled frame casually leaning on one of the columns of the porch. Hands in pockets, shoulders down, he looks quite relaxed. But it didn’t fool me.

“Sasha.” The sharp edge to his voice tells me his patience is gone and that I have been caught red-handed for something that I do not exactly know. He levels his bone-chilling, heart-seizing blue glare, and my companions scatter into the wind faster than the beat of a hummingbird’s wings. Oh no, he didn’t just try to kill my buzz. Fury begins to burn my hide.

“Etienne,” I counter as my shoulders square safely from the grass. I’ve taken down some of those most notable warriors in the ring, yet he is the only one that has been able to best me. He doesn’t scare me, but it is a simple fact that I keep in mind. Moments pass into minutes as we try to clearly read one another through our ties, sizing up the void stretching between us.

“Are you going to stand there all night?” he finally challenges, his breath now visible in the chill of the night.

“Actually, I am going to go for a walk.” My feet take a step back.

“In that dress?”

“It’s as good as any.” And I sure as hell don’t want to go inside with the vibe he is giving off. Nope, I rather mull around the neighborhood looking like a high-class hooker in this get-up than be near him when he gets like this. Turning around, I hit the sidewalk, but I don’t get far before I find myself turned upside down, looking down his back and at the ground as a firm hand comes to rest possessively on my ass.

“Etienne, put me down! I could kick your ass if I wanted too!” I slur, the drink holding on tight as I try to wiggle free, but it is useless. I could sling my powers, but I don’t trust them, even in my drunken state, and I don’t want to accidentally take out the windows of the elderly neighbors. I’ve come to the conclusion that I can’t physically hurt Etienne, so concern for his physical safety doesn’t register much these days. The fucker is indestructible.

“I’d like to see you try.” His tone is entirely too inviting. He flashes us into the house, locks the front door, and then takes me into the belly of our sanctuary before I can even figure out what the hell just happened.

“Etienne, put me down this minute!” I attempt to squirrel out of his iron grasp.

Grunting, he dodges my attempt to connect my fist into the side of his head and sets me down at the entrance of our walk-in closet. With his heated and displeased stare fixed on my heaving tits, he reaches over and flips up what I thought was a coat hook and a back panel set into the wall opens. Tearing my eyes from the bulging vein in his neck that has me worried about him on a whole new level, I spy a staircase slightly visible from the partially clothed view.

“In,” he demands. He gestures by swiping the line of clothes aside in one giant, forceful whoosh.

Taking a step to the side, I peer down the dark staircase and shudder at what might be down there. “Yeah, I’m good. But thanks.” I hiccup.

As I ready myself to flash out of the closet, he catches me with ease as I try to escape and flips me back over his shoulder. Eating up the stairs with his long legs, he takes us down into the secret space below our basement room in the blink of an eye.

Throwing out my power, I try to get free of his grasp. “Put me down!” I scream, pissed at the fact that he is pissed. I don’t know why, nor do I think I deserve it. We’ve always fed off one another, our match of wills never ceasing to heighten our battles and always dimming our reasoning. We grapple momentarily—he with his brute strength and profound speed and I with my elemental magic—two opposing forces who can’t seem to get a handle on the other. But this is how it always goes down when we spar. Round and round until his speed or ability to anticipate my moves gives him the upper hand. As I power up to try to loosen his grip again, he drops me into a softly padded seat, the momentum coercing me to hold back the blow that I am about to throw at him.

Willing the lights on, I sit up straight and my jaw falls to the ground. Etienne’s eyes continue to burn a hole through me as he leans up against the wall with labored breath, hair falling wild around him and shirt slightly torn. He pushes a button on the wall, sealing my fate with a low thud by closing the door we just came through. His eyes begin to glow in their threatening way as he slowly prowls toward me. Shit, that can’t be good. My pulse thrums in my ears as my thighs clench. Why does he have to look so fuckable when I’m pissed?

“Woman! You try my patience like no other. Half the time, I don’t know whether to torture you, fuck you, leave you alone, or just roll my eyes and ignore you. But this, this is too far. I can’t fucking take your level of blissful ignorance… or is it just self-deprecating behavior? I’ll never know for sure. But I do know one thing, you are a masochist who has pushed your sadist of a mate entirely too far. Take off your clothes. Now.” He leaves no room for argument as his pissed-off, heavily accented tone thunders around this small space that I am attempting to get my mind around.

Standing up, I turn away from him to examine the room. There are no modern conveniences sitting out from the stone-enforced walls like one might hope for. However, one area in particular does draw attention with its proud display of neatly organized rows of fetish gear. Aside from the riding crop, chains, and dangling handcuffs, I don’t know what anything else is. We’ve experimented, sure, but that was all nominal compared to whatever is going on in here. This is a new level, and there are definitely no plush beds like in the books I’ve read either. The only soft seating was the weird massage chair, a padded bench, and some other table thing that I can’t quite make out all the details to. My mind reels from all the questions when I spin back around to meet his advancing form. Irrational dread and angst nip at my soul, flirting with my triggers.

This isn’t a prison and I’m not locked up anymore. Calm down, Sasha, I try to tell myself before I say something I don’t mean.

“Is this where you used to bring all your hussies?” Well, I thought my mouth was under control.

He takes another step toward me as I automatically take a step back. “Do I need to repeat myself?” With the flick of his hand, his knife is out.

“Put the fucking knife away, Etienne. I am not taking off my clothes, and if you ruin this dress, I’m moving back into my cottage.” If he really expects me to submit to him under these circumstances, he is bat-shit crazy.

Like a silent predator, he circles around me faster than I can comprehend, and with a quick jerk of his hand, the fabric of my tight dress gives as cool air rushes my sensitive skin. The liquor in my system takes up a second wind, adding to our heated emotions. My now-bare skin before him by brutal way of his dagger proves to be an interesting catalyst to the growing mix.

Ignoring my desire, I indignantly stoop to remove my heels. Pivoting on the ball of my stocking-covered foot, I shuck the ruined dress off and throw it at his feet while managing to keep hold of my stilettos. Steadying myself against the wave of tonic still working its way through my body, I level a heel at him. “Put the fucking knife away,” I slur once more.

“Or what? You will throw your shoe at me?” His sexy voice rolls invitingly across that talented tongue of his, throwing my focus off.

Seeing my weapon of choice in a whole new light, I shrug and let them drop from my hands. “There, happy? Now, I have no interest in being a repeat customer in your sideshow act. And another thing, what the hell did I do this time?” The room moves slightly, and I brace a hand on the weird chair next to me.

“The breakdown in communication between us has taken a whole new low. I am your mate, I am your other half, I have been through hell and back, for you, and yet you fail to talk to me!” His pain and anger slash through me as his fist meets the stone wall in an explosive show of power vs. strength, causing the walls to impossibly tremor under the blow. Heavy concrete and stone walls under a house, under a basement—all of that doing nothing to stop his effect. I should be afraid, but I’m not. His display does nothing but excite me on a visceral level.

“We talk all the time when you are around. I tell you everything.” I kind of wish I can take it back as soon as it falls out of my mouth; I know that isn’t completely true. But in my defense, I only ever keep things when it’s necessary.

He rudely laughs while taking a lazy step forward and bringing a hand up to a few strands of my loose hair. Fingering the waves, he gently tucks the errant runaways back behind my ear. The contact sends a chill of warning through me and rightly so. His bottom lip disappears under his teeth as his befuddling fingertips travel down my neck in an agonizing, yearning-filled trail before coming back. I freeze. Sure enough, he quickly possesses my head by way of my hair, using it to cement his hold. Yanking down, he forces my face to move up to his. He grins down, his beauty traced with darkness, his sexy lips now curled back, revealing his dangerously long fangs. Fuck me, that mouth of his. I am willing to bow just to get the thing on me as fast as possible.

“Everything? Care to retract that statement before I start at the top?”

Bastard. “Fine, my communication could use some work. We already talked through Halloween; I’m not sure what else there is.” His free hand momentarily sweeps the curve of my belly before coming around to the small of back and tenderly resting there.

“Really? You don’t know why I might be upset about you going out to drink in your condition? Especially at an establishment that houses many we do not want to be drawing the attention of at this time?” His body melds to mine, tempting me into submission.

“Seriously? Erik and the guys had me out of there in perfect timing and they kept me safe. And what condition are you talking about? I feel fine, just a few small residual effects from the new power that I need to work on getting under control. It will be fine.” It has to be—I can’t have my wings clipped forever. His eyes change, the intensity and anger dimming as quickly as it had come as he withdrawals deeper into thought.

Etienne

She really doesn’t know that she is with young. How is this possible? Most females know within the week following their moon. It’s a profound connection they share with the new growing life. Should I be worried? I hadn’t considered the validity of Koray and Damien’s other explanation; I didn’t believe it possible and had marched her down here in a fit of rage. Who was more at fault now—the love of my life or me?

Changing tactics, my hand begrudgingly reroutes from grabbing a handful of her hair and comes around so that my thumb can wipe away the single tear of frustration now forming at the corner of her eye. Sipping it from my flesh, I bring her closer and allow my lips to dip to her neck in a show of warmth to her vulnerability. She tremors in response, completely going limp in my arms, malleable to my desires. It would serve me well to remember her submission is earned and demanding anything from her will only be met with resistance, and rightly so. Her obedience is also a finely tuned thing that must be handled with care. It is a gift. One I now remember how grateful I am to receive as my chest swells in approval with her reaction. Asserting my control, I gently pull her head back a bit further, opening her neck completely to me. She moans and shivers, allowing it with delight.

“I’m very sorry for losing my temper, mon amour. Anu, we have much to talk about, come.” Reacting to my softer tone and gentle approach, she allows me to position her into the soft, leather massage chair. She watches with a curious light as I bring her hands forward and grab the matching leather cuffs from under the arm ledge. Sasha jerks and raises that damn brow. Bending, I smooth the furrow away with a kiss.

“Do you trust me?” She nods and rests her chin on the headrest so that she can watch, waiting for me to continue.

Moving behind her, I repeat the same with her feet. Tightening the cuffs, I make certain that they are firm but not too tight as to hurt her. The scent of the leather sends a thrill throughout me as I methodically move through, fastening her in.

“Now, this is a collar that will force your head to stay down and into the headrest. Just relax.” She takes a deep breath to chase away her minor trembling and allows her face to sink into the circular opening. I quickly get the last important piece in place.

The collar was spelled and would minimize the blow of her outbursts should something trigger her PTSD quicker than I can get a handle on. This was not to frighten or harm; this was to allow a more level playing field for us both. In the end, none of it could stop her if she set her mind to getting free. Rather, it provided a hurdle.

It has become blatantly apparent how I have failed her as a mate, as a partner. If I would have been paying more attention and had been able to put my ego aside, I would have known that she needed more sensual stimulation to aid her in connecting deeper with her physical self. Wherein she would have had a greater chance of knowing about the love child now growing a lot sooner. Did I just say love child? What the fuck is wrong with me? I shake my head as I focus.