She didn’t block out his pain, feeling it almost as strongly as he did. It edged her voice while she laid three more strokes along his back. “What were you going to do with those secrets, hmmm? Little assassin,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “haven’t you realised yet you can’t hurt me with secrets? I only hide what I’m asked to by others; it’s not possible to blackmail me.” She stalked around him, eyeing up and down.
Victor’s arms were starting to ache a little but he didn’t move them and he didn’t answer her. He wasn’t sure if her ‘no sounds’ rule applied to speaking in general as well. When she started to move around him his eyes followed her; they were glittering like molten sapphire. His lips remained a pursed line of concentration. Victor couldn’t believe what this whole scene was doing to him and that he was having to stamp down his arousal.
Another stripe crossed his abdomen. “Someone else’s power, someone else’s control,” Summer murmured, not letting up in the slightest, flicking her wrist again. “You hate it, don’t you. And yet … here you are, struggling with your own will, in the palm of my hand.” She watched him, eyes narrow, toying with the end of the rope. Then, like lightning, she slashed the last two strokes hard and fast, leaving red welts.
A long, slow breath, and she smiled, this one warm and loving. “Very good, little assassin. Very good indeed. You may speak. Tell your lady what you want.”