"Are you still angry with me?" Anwyl twisted strands of her hair around her fingers.

Aamon's back straightened as he sat at the desk in his office. "Why would you ask that?"

"It just seems like you are. If you're going to punish me, please just get it over with." Her voice trembled, and she took a tiny step backward when Aamon turned to face her.

His dark eyes burned into her. "You want me to punish you?"

"Would it fix this?" She waved a shaking hand between them. "Or convince you to forgive me?"

He shrugged with a snicker. "Probably not. But, you're right..." Rising from his chair, he stalked forward.

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she took two quick steps backward.

"Are you afraid of me, love?" He crossed the gap between them, forcing her back until she was pressed between his body and the wall.

She dropped her gaze, her teeth worrying at her lower lip.

His breath fanned across her face. "Good. You should be."

"You said you wanted me to trust you." Anwyl glanced up, meeting his heated gaze for barely a moment.

"That doesn't mean I'm not dangerous, Anwyl." His fingers dug into her waist. "Don't ever forget your position."

"And what is that?" Anwyl dropped her gaze to the floor. "Slave?"

He chuckled, sending a shiver down her spine. "No. Slaves aren't always obedient or submissive. Your position is to always obey and submit, trusting that I know what I'm doing."

She sucked in a breath, staring up at him. "I have a brain, Aamon. You can't expect me not to question anything."

"No one said you couldn't question." He dipped his head, bringing his lips down on her collarbone. "But doing so has consequences like any choice. Do you want to find out the consequences?"

Anwyl whimpered.

"Well, I'll show you the consequences tonight. After all, you've done exactly what I asked you not to do. So, as you said, punishment is in order." He tightened his hold on her waist.

"What will you do to me?" She forced her gaze up to meet his, and her chest heaved against his as she fought for air.

His lips moved up her neck, trailing fiery kisses up to her earlobe. Teeth nipping at the tender skin there, he chuckled at the tremor that ran through her. "What's the matter, love? Surely, you don't think I would permanently harm you." He pulled away just enough to look at her face.

Her wide blue gaze met his dark one, and she stifled a sob. "How can I be sure of that when you look at me with that sort of anger?"

His gaze darkened further, but she couldn't tell if his anger or his lust were the cause this time. "I won't harm you permanently. But I will teach you a lesson you'll never forget, darling."

She brought her hand up to her mouth, holding back words or tears, no longer certain which. Shaking her head slowly, she shut her eyes. Aamon wiped away the tears as they fell. When they continued to fall, he removed his hands from her face and feathered her face with kisses.

"There now, love. It won't be so awful." His warm breath blew across her neck as he buried his nose against her skin.

Anwyl's free hand went to his chest, feebly pushing against him. "Please, Aamon. If you won't mete out the punishment now, then let me be to think on it alone."

He pressed one last kiss to her neck and then shoved away from her. "Don't build it up in your mind too much. I guarantee, your pretty little mind can't discern what I have in store, and you'll just worry yourself sick thinking about it."

She watched him storm back to his desk wordlessly. When he had settled in his chair and kept his back turned to her, she took that as her cue to leave and softly fled the room.

***

Aamon opened the bedroom door, his gaze flitting around the room until it fell on Anwyl. She was curled up in a chair by the fireplace. Her cheeks had no color as she turned to face him, her crystalline blue eyes widening. Even from here, he could see the nervous way she toyed with the tassels of the blanket wrapped around her slender frame.

He strode into the space, a smile spreading across his lips. Time to take the next step in ensuring she's so broken he'll never be able to fix her. "Are you cold?" He stopped in front of the trembling form of the girl he'd bought.

She shook her head, pressing herself back against the chair.

Leaning down, he placed his hands on the armrests of the leather chair, his face nearly touching hers. "You should know by now that lying to me won't work." His voice remained quiet and gentle.

Her teeth worried at her lower lip.

He reached out and skimmed his thumb over her lip, pulling it away from her teeth before she could draw blood. I'll be the only one drawing blood tonight. Taking her hands in his, he forced her stiff, unwilling form from the chair. "Come now. Don't be so shy. I can warm you up quicker than the fire will, you know." To prove his point, he ran the tip of his tongue over the exposed rim of her ear.

Her breath caught in her throat, and a throaty whimper escaped her a moment later.

A growl rumbled in his chest when she trembled in his embrace. This sense of power... How addicting. Layt's words from the prior evening flitted through his head, and he crashed his lips against Anwyl's, nipping impatiently at her bottom lip.

She cried out, her pain serving only to encourage him.

He took advantage of it, deepening the kiss the moment her lips parted. I will not lose to him. I cannot.

He backed Anwyl up against a bare portion of the wall, slapping a stone that, up until now, he had never had reason to press. The entire back wall of the room groaned. The section of wall where they stood grated against the rest of the wall as it slid upward, revealing a dark room beyond.

Anwyl let out a breathy screech as a draft of cold air hit her back. "A-amon?"

He pushed her over the threshold of the room, following after her. The room blazed with light as soon as they stepped over the threshold. Torches flared to life on the walls, casting flickering lights around them.

Anwyl's gaze flicked around the room then back to him.

The haunted look in her eyes told him she'd connected the dots. Oh, she has no idea just what awaits her here. The heady, spicy aroma of her fear hit him, driving him wild with need and impatience.

"H-how did the torches do that?" Tears swam in her bright blue eyes, threatening to spill any moment.

"They didn't do anything. I did." Aamon almost laughed at the question.

Her ability to ask the strangest things when in danger never ceased to amaze.

"You did?" She took a trembling step back, her arms wrapping around her torso.

He smirked. "Yes. But that's not important."

Her gaze darted from him to the entrance behind him. The crisp scent of her resolve made him snicker. A moment later, she sprang into motion.

He had to admit she was fast. But not fast enough. After all, she's just a human. His arm shot out, wrapping around her waist and dragging her struggling body against his own heated one. Her nails raked across his face before he could restrain her arms. Warmth trickled down his cheek accompanied by the sting of pain. He hissed, grabbing her arm and forcing her into submission.

The fight bled out of her in a harsh sob. She struggled weakly, but he could smell the faint acidic stench of despair. Dragging her toward the door, he pressed on another stone in this side of the wall, and the portion of the wall that had let them enter grated down.

She burst into tears as any method of escape closed off with the last boom of the door and the following click of the entrance's locking mechanism engaging. "Please, Aamon. D-don't do this. I'll never disobey you again."

"I daresay you won't." His voice held only a hint of the excitement trembling underneath the surface.

He dragged her to the opposite wall.

The room was devoid of furniture for the most part. Instead, a pair of handcuffs and a short chain hung from a giant iron ring in the wall, and a pile of furs spread across the floor beneath the ring.

Anwyl fought feebly, but he easily locked her wrists into the cuffs.

She slumped to the floor, refusing to look at him. Sitting forced her arms above her head, and he could see the metal biting into her wrists. He checked the metal cuffs and smiled down at her.

"Now. I'll show you what it really means to submit. And after this, if you ever cross me again, I will do so much worse." Aamon crouched in front of her, tipping her chin up and holding her gaze with his.

She gasped, her lower lip wobbling. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

"Cry all you want. No one will hear you, and no one will come to your aid." He captured her lips in a bruising kiss. "And just remember..." He pressed his lips to her neck, biting down just enough to break skin.

She writhed against him, wailing.

He paused his harsh ministrations just long enough to finish his statement. "You brought this on yourself."

***

She screamed until she couldn't anymore, and she fought him until she had no strength left. Though there was no hope of escape, the pain made her seek one anyway. His punishing lips and cruel hands left no part of her untouched, and she squeezed her eyes shut, praying for it to end soon.

He didn't speak again as he worked her over, seeming to take pleasure in her weak wails and despairing sobs. Tears trekked down her cheeks, and she hung limply in his grip, the cuffs and his bruising grip the only things keeping her upright.

I was right. Refusing him in my bed will only invite violence. He will force me any time he pleases. She set her jaw, biting back the groans of pain as he used her to satisfy his own twisted desires. The treatment he displayed toward her was purposeful, and his laughter against her skin when she arched her back in pain sent a wave of loathing through her.

This man, for all his beauty, is a demon in disguise. This thought brought a fresh wave of tears as the abuse continued. I've sold my soul to Icareth.

He spoke for the first time since the torture began. "What's the matter, love? Can't handle the consequences of your choice?"

Through swollen lips, she whispered, "I hate you. You're Icareth incarnate."

A low, dark chuckle vibrated through his chest as he pressed his full frame against hers. "Wrong. I am Icareth."

His dark eyes flickered with dark blue flame and threats of the full torment of Icareth's realm.

She didn't have the strength to scream, but she tried anyway. A weak mewl escaped her, and she tugged half-heartedly at the metal cuffs. The edges dug into her wrists, stinging and drawing blood from her already raw skin. "Why me?"

She shifted against him, looking for any relief for her bloodied wrists. Her entire body screamed with pain, and the sharp burning in her lower half flared again in protest of her movement.

Aamon lowered his head, whispering in her ear. "Because of who you are to him."

"I don't understand." Her voice cracked.

His fingers duck into her thighs, holding her in place against him. "By the time I finish with you, you'll be so corrupt and broken even he won't want you."

He pulled away then, letting her weakened body give out. She hung from her wrists, her knees just brushing the furs beneath her.

"You can spend the night in here." He turned to go.

"Aamon, please... At least..." She coughed, fighting to get the words out past her raw throat. "Take off the cuffs."

He turned back to her, slipping the key from his pocket. Returning to where she hung, he inserted the key into the lock with swift precision. The quietness of the room broke with the click of the lock.

Then the cuffs sprang open, and she slammed into the ground. Despite the protection offered by the furs, her knees still absorbed most of the impact, and they screamed in protest when they thudded heavily into the fur-covered floor.

Pocketing the key, he strode to the door. "And don't even bother trying to get out. Once you close the door from one side, it can only be opened again from that side. Sleep well, Anwyl." He pressed the stone pressure-plate in the wall.

The door groaned and rumbled open. Aamon stepped out and turned to watch her as he closed the door on her with a final thud.

With Aamon gone, Anwyl curled into a ball on the furs, mustering the energy to see how bad the damage was. Numbness spread over her mind, and no tears came as she examined his handiwork.

His fingers had left bruises everywhere. Bite marks peppered her body in all sorts of places, most of which were extremely sensitive. The worst of the damage came from the numerous times he'd taken her by force. When she checked that damage, her fingers came away slick with blood.

Pain pulsated through every nerve, punctuated with an occasional sharp twang of protest from frayed nerves and untreated injuries if she moved the wrong way. Moaning, she curled back up on the furs and pulled a few over her battered body.

She squeezed her eyes shut. The physical damage wasn't all he was going for, was it? Her mind and heart wept long after her physical body could no longer muster the energy to do so. Thoughts of ending her life to avoid this misery set up camp in her mind.

Her fingers traced over the stinging, open wounds on her wrists as if the physical pain could remove the emotional and mental pain inside. She trembled uncontrollably, sensations of the recent torture ghosting across her body.

At some point, the pain overwhelmed her, and she drifted off into a restless sleep, her mind mixing images of Aamon, the dead girl from the previous day, and Seanan all into a mess. And somewhere in the dreams, a single question haunted her. If Aamon is capable of this kind of cruelty, was he lying about Seanan to keep me from finding something else out? The question lingered throughout the night, but no answer followed it into the next day.