“Gods, I don’t know how. It’s more than a little insane.”
I run my teeth over my bottom lip as I drink in all the delicious details. Her guileless gaze, the pale freckles dotting her nose, and her sensuous lips that frame the most beautiful smile. The way she flips her curls over to one side, creating a style that’s equally controlled and feral, like she just stepped off the runway at fashion week or emerged from the depths of a forest. If I tried to make a list of everything about her I find attractive, it’d be a mile long.
“Guess I’ve had more interesting things taking up my focus recently.” Heat that matches mine flickers in her eyes before she delicately clears her throat and takes a sip of her wine. Following suit, I corral the conversation back to safer topics.
“There must be some connection between me finding your Armas and you seeing me in your dreams. You said your dad had it made for you. Maybe he spelled it so you’d be able to find it if you were ever parted from it. That’s why I felt compelled to always have it on me and you were having visions of the one who had it.”
“It’s possible. But it was taken weeks before that. If that’s the case then I would’ve been dreaming about Edevane, right?” She lets out a long sigh. “And I thought the only mystery was why my father chose to have it made from Luna.”
“He never told you?”
“He never had the chance. No one knew he commissioned it, and he disappeared several days before it was delivered to the palace.”
I pause mid-wrap around my arm. “Disappeared how?”
“No idea. I don’t even know whether he left of his own accord. With the security in place at the palace it’s highly unlikely he was taken, but he could’ve been off palace grounds for all we know.”
She looks down at the pendant, brushing a finger over the engraved symbol. “I’ve always had a strained relationship with my mother, but he and I were so close. My mother convinced herself that he left because he couldn’t handle being in her shadow, but Garyth Emory never cared about ruling or power any more than I did. He bonded with her as mates because—for reasons I never understood—he truly loved her.”
When she lifts her gaze again, I hold it and soften my voice. “I’m sorry you lost him, Taryn. I’m sure the unanswered questions about his disappearance must make it hurt even worse.”
She swallows hard as though choking down a lump of emotions she doesn’t want to deal with, then points to my arm. “What are you doing?”
I glance down at the gauntlet that’s almost complete. Black rope wraps around in tight rows on the top of my forearm with knots on the underside that resemble small flowers and go from wrist to elbow in a zig-zagged line. Holding it up so she can see it better, I say, “Japanese rope bondage; it’s called shibari. From the amount of rope you’ve seen, I’m sure you can guess it’s a passion of mine. This specific tie is called a rose gauntlet. With practice, it’s one of the ties you can do on yourself without needing a partner.”
Taryn leans on the armrest of the couch and rests her chin in the palm of her hand. “What kinds of things can you do if you have a partner?”
I might be imagining it, but I swear there’s a glint of interest in her pretty eyes that goes beyond the educational. “There’s an infinite number of things you can do,” I say. “Simpler designs like chest harnesses or corsets, or you can get into the serious stuff that includes full body ties and suspension. When you’re done, you’ve turned someone into living art.”
“The purpose, then, is the art?”
“Not the only one, no. Another is helping with anxiety and stress in the same way a weighted blanket or acupressure does. Compression, or Deep Pressure Stimulation, switches your body’s fight or flight response to one of relaxation.”
I’m almost finished—it’ll only take another two rows before I run out of rope—and I can already feel my mind and body settling after dredging up all the shit with Edevane set me on edge.
When I don’t have enough left to go around again, I tuck the last few inches beneath the gauntlet to secure it. Then I unhook the part that’s been looped around my thumb and tuck it in at the top in the same manner. “There. I could wear this all day and it’ll stay just like this.”
She holds her hands out, and I reach over and offer her my arm. She lightly traces her fingers over the nylon rows and the twists of the knots like she’s learning the shapes and testing the tightness with which the rope is holding me. With each stroke, I imagine what it would feel like if the rope wasn’t there, if instead she was tracing the veins in my forearm and mapping them out in her mind.
“It really is something how you were able to create this out of a single stretch of rope, and with only one hand.”
“Yeah. The first time I saw a shibari scene, I was hooked. It’s not only creative, but for the person doing the tying, the rigger, it also requires a lot of knowledge about the body, like where bundles of nerves are and the circulatory system, so they know what’s safe to do. If you’re going to suspend someone, you need to know a lot about anchors and pulleys and leverage. I love the challenge.”
When she pulls her hands away, I tell myself I can’t miss her touch when she wasn’t touching me to begin with. Needing another distraction now that the other one is done, I get up and head for the bar. “You want another drink?” I ask, pouring myself another three fingers of Teeling 32-year-old single malt.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Suit yourself.” Lifting the glass to my lips, I stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows and take a drink.
“Why don’t you do a tie on me right now?”
The liquid almost goes down the wrong pipe, but I save myself with a quick clearing of my throat. Turning to face her, I raise my brows. “You sure?”
Taryn lifts her chin obstinately as though I’ve dared challenge her. I imagine there aren’t many people who question her when she says something. If we’re going to be spending a lot of time together, she’ll learn quickly I don’t pander for pandering’s sake.
“I’m curious what it will feel like, if it’s as calming as you say. But I don’t want you to do my forearm.” Then she rises from the couch and crosses to stand close enough that I have to drop my chin to hold her gaze. “I want something bigger.”
EIGHTTARYN
Staring up at Finn, I concentrate on projecting confidence I don’t entirely feel. I am sure that I want to know what it’s like to be tied, to see if it’s as he’s described it or just ends up being a decorative rope adornment. Especially as the last year has left my nerves a bit more frayed than I care to admit, so learning a calming practice to combat that would be beneficial.
What I’m not sure about is whether I can handle him touching me without my body reacting in a less than calm way.
“Something bigger,” he echoes.
“Yes. I want something more substantial so the odds of me having this euphoric experience you spoke about is higher.”
That’s a perfectly logical explanation and makes it very clear that it’s not because I want to feel his hands on me. I’m sure he’ll believe that. Even if I don’t.
“I could do a half-hitch futomomo on your leg. You’ll definitely feel something with that.”
“Okay, great,” I say, brushing my curls away from my face. “Um, I’m wearing leggings, so…”
I trail off, hoping he’ll give me some direction, which he does. It’s almost like a switch gets flipped inside him that changes his demeanor. Like his massive body is suddenly filled with authority. It’s subtle, though. He pulls his shoulders back, sets his glass down on the counter, then aims those golden honey eyes at me as he speaks in an even and intentional manner.
“I can do it with or without the leggings, whichever you’re comfortable with. The compression will be the same either way, you just won’t have the added sensation of the rope against your skin. It’s up to you, Princess.”
My hackles raise. “Don’t call me that,” I bite out.
He blinks, then narrows his eyes slightly like he’s trying to see something clearer. “It’s your proper title. Why wouldn’t I call you that?”
His tone isn’t sarcastic. That he sounds genuinely curious takes some of the sting out of my ire. “I left that life behind a long time ago. That’s not who I am anymore.”
Thankfully, Finn readily accepts my answer without any further prodding. “Then it’s up to you, Taryn.”
“Thank you. And I want the full experience, please.”
He nods. “Go get changed into some shorts. Before you come back out, I want you to choose three coils of rope you want me to use. You’ll also see a pair of surgical scissors on the shelf to the left; bring those with you as well. I’ll wait here.”
I hesitate, rooted in place by the change of tone in his voice, the way he’s stoically waiting for me to obey as though he has no doubt I will. If he were any other male and this were any other situation, I’d be handing him his ass right now, either verbally or physically. But, strangely, the desire to challenge him doesn’t come.
I’ve always been a warrior; from the time I was a young Fireling and went behind my mother’s back to train with her general, to fighting alongside Dmitri in various wars over the centuries. I pride myself on being every bit as lethal as any male I come up against. And although I’ve never wished to be royalty, that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve been in a position most of my life that causes others to defer to me as such. It’s what I’m used to, what’s expected, therefore it’s what I demand.
But there’s something different about Finnian. Maybe it’s because, from what I’ve seen, he’s such a gentle giant. He has all that power, yet he chooses to be tender and caring. It calls to my feminine side in a way that makes me want to revel in my smallness, to willingly accept defeat beneath his massive frame. And it’s a feeling that both thrills and terrifies me.
I’ve been starved for conversation, for company…for the touch of another, even if platonically, for so long. So why wouldn’t I explore something designed to give me all three? Satisfied with my rationale, I turn and head for his room. When I get to the door, though, I pause and look back. “I’ll take that drink now. Whatever you’re having is fine.”
Feeling better I gave a command of my own, I disappear into the bedroom without waiting for his acknowledgment. Before dealing with the clothing situation, I enter the Closet o’ Kink. I procure the scissors and choose three coils of pink rope in varying shades—baby pink, bubblegum, and fuchsia—then set them on the bed while I remove my leggings.
