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had to use an incredible
amount of willpower to keep his features impassive. Debase,
intoxicating, and carnal were the words that sprang to his
mind.
    The gown, if one could call it that, was
composed of lavender lace widely embroidered, and so loosely that
each movement of the shapely body beneath showed glimpses of
peach-tinted flesh. Flashing glimpses of the under curve of one
breast, the top of one pink nipple, or the dark shadow of an inner
thigh, and there he stopped looking, instead glancing down at the
bandage on his knee. Orèlan was naked beneath the sheath of lace,
he knew she had to be, and that was the point of Alexei sending the
gown. He also knew that if Orèlan were to turn about, it would be
as though viewing her tantalizingly naked buttocks, while seen
through a sheer embroidered silk screen. He dared not look closely
enough to see if she had managed to cover her mons. A place he
coveted as his alone.
    Yet what disturbed him more than the scanty
attire barely draping Orèlan’s lovely body was the thick jeweled
choker around her slender neck. It was nothing less than a
perverted collar with a long hanging jeweled leash. The end of
which Orèlan had wrapped around her delicate wrist. This collaring
and leash were what disturbed her the most, making her appear
anxious and flushed.
    Steeling himself, Wyndham raised his gaze
taking in Orèlan’s rouged lips, the exotic line of kohl over her
eyes, and the luxuriousness of her thick hair piled in a tumble on
top of her head. Exquisite. Femininity at its fullest and
choicest. He lifted his hand to her, steadily, dropping his gaze to
the end of her jeweled leash. She understood of course and chose
for the moment obedience. He only prayed that it lasted, beneath
his coarse threats to whip her. How perverted was that . . . and
how unexpectedly heady was her submission to him? He could not
answer his conflicting emotions . . . not now.
    So instead, he took the end of the gilded
leash that she offered him as he straightened his injured leg so
that his trouser’s leg slid down over the bandage concealing its
tenuous support. His evening shoe settled on the marbled floor as
he wound the leash around his wrist drawing Orèlan closer to
him.
    Her gaze was stark and filled with a
kaleidoscope of emotion, as she whispered anxiously, “What will
happen to us, Wyndham?”
    He pursed his lips grimly. They would not
arrive at the end of this unscathed. It was a deadly game of cat
and mouse that he played for Orèlan’s life, and ultimately his own.
Unfortunately, Alexei was a master of such perversions. “Nothing we
cannot survive,” he answered, praying it was true, yet knowing
there could be worse things than death. He had nearly been there
once and it frightened him now, how close he was again.

    It was Sodom and Gomorrah, Orèlan
thought. An orgy of flesh and opulence everywhere she gazed. This
was what she had been terrified at seeing each evening that she'd
hidden in her chambers, since Alexei had kidnapped her. She had
wondered then, why he'd not forced her to come to his regular
evening parties.
    She still did not know . . . and she also
keenly felt that she was missing something. Something more than
just Alexei’s need for vengeance upon her. Something still, which
she and Wyndham did not understand. But perhaps Wyndham did, she
thought glancing up at his chiseled and masculine features. Then,
she shivered, frightened even more than before.
    Wyndham was too manly. So handsome and much
too compelling with his collar length blond hair streaked with
yellow highlights and his vivid purple-sapphire eyes. His jawline
was square-boned and his build was powerful. All of the barely
dressed and undressed women in the rooms that she and Wyndham
passed through gazed at her Wyndham avidly. But so did Alexei and
that was perhaps disturbing her the most.
    Hastily, Orèlan turned her shocked gaze from
one man ardently kissing another man to collide with the view of a
naked man