“Yes, wizard,” she whispered, trembling with need and desire. She let go, giving herself over to his magic, surrendering to his will, and the silver net layered itself into her skin, settling into her nerves, penetrating her muscles, bones, heart, mind, and soul.
“Ah, yes.” His black eyes flared with fire, face ridged with his own fierce desire. “You belong to me, don’t you?”
“Entirely,” she agreed helplessly, yearning toward him, desperate to be taken.
“Not yet,” he tsked. “Don’t move. I think you’ll find you can’t.” He followed that astonishing declaration with a kiss, hungry, deep, and devastating.
It was true. She couldn’t move. She could only receive the kiss, her mouth opening of its own accord—or of his—the sparks of excitation running wild in her immobile body.
“Wait here,” he instructed, chuckling wickedly at his own joke. And she did so, helpless to do otherwise, the sexual tension building with leaps and bounds, pressing against her skin from the inside.
He wheeled the bed to beneath the moon window again, aligning it so the foot of it sat at the focal point, then busied himself with the silver chains. Finished, he pointed a finger at her, then curled it. And she crawled to him, drawn by the invisible leash of his power, trembling with the heightened eroticism.
Drawing her to her feet, Gabriel positioned her against the bed frame, his hands roving freely over her, stimulating and caressing. She wanted to writhe against him, to push her nipples into his stroking palms, to pump her hips in wordless plea, but she could only take what he chose to give, only submit to what he desired of her. It was frustrating and freeing. She could do nothing, so she had no choice but to accept. The sensation of simultaneous constriction and freedom had her mind surging against its boundaries.
She couldn’t even moan, in approval or protest, as he stood her against the foot of the bed and chained her arms above her head, outstretched to each bedpost. The silver cuffs fastened around her wrists made contact with the silver net Gabriel had laid into her body, conducting magic through the silver bed to the arcanium, to Gabriel, and back into her own body. By the time he chained her ankles to the bottom of the posts, so she stood spread-eagled and beyond vulnerable, the magic pulsed into, through, and out of her. She’d become a pump, a human-shaped heart circulating magic. Taking in the moon and water magic, heating and growing it with her own and breathing it out again.
Gabriel inhaled deeply, as if sensing it, too. His eyes lit from black to shining silver, his hair flowing in unseen currents of magic, his skin glowing with it. Standing before her, he caressed her body, releasing just enough control to allow her to whimper, to struggle against the chains, to lean her body into his hands.
“Here are the rules,” he murmured, sounding as overwhelmed as she felt. The magic gave a resonance to his voice that made her want to drink the words from his mouth. “I’m going to torment you with pleasure. You will not be allowed to climax. When you can’t stand a moment longer, I’ll release you—into your alternate form.”
She cried a wordless plea, not because she couldn’t speak, but because she had no words. She only partly understood what he was telling her.
“Shh, my heart.” He kissed her softly, lovingly. “Trust me to take care of you. You don’t have to understand, because I do. You asked me to take. You asked me to have. Give yourself into my hands.”
The giving was a letting go. Untying the final bits of will, she gave herself into his caresses. The sweet torment became an agony that seemed to last forever. Teasing her with lips, hands, nails, teeth, and tongue, Gabriel played her like an instrument, drawing sensation from every fingertip of skin. Though she undulated, writhing and pleading, he paid no attention, his attention focused on her body’s responses. The arcanium echoed the ebb and flow, the relentless build of pressure, his magic twining inside her with otherworldly intensity. She went mindless, riding the waves of erotic extremity, aware only of how he touched and tormented her, until she was taut with the need for release, sobbing with raw desire, begging him to let her go.
Framing her face in his hands, he kissed her, the magic churning in a frenzied cycle between them. Pulling his head back, he used his magic to release the chains, taking her wrists in his, holding them in place as his big body pinned her against the bed frame. He stared into her eyes. “My familiar, my lover, my heart. Be released.”
The magic seized her all at once, the orgasm ripping through her and tearing her apart at the seams. Her mind fragmented, her identity blown into trillions of silver sparks. She came apart in every way, shivering and shattered.
Then remade.