2

The door creaked open again, and Aina flinched at the sharp sound. Two women in dark dresses entered, their eyes cold as winter frost.

“Prepare her,” Alric commanded without a glance. His tone was ice and fire, a voice that brooked no defiance.

The women moved without a word, their hands firm yet efficient as they unclasped the cuffs from Aina’s wrists. Relief should have flooded her, but the bruises on her skin burned like an invisible chain.

One woman tilted her chin with a sharp lift of her hand. “Look at me.”

Aina obeyed, her eyes dull with suppressed tears.

“You will wear this,” the other woman instructed, holding out a silk dress as black as midnight, its neckline daring, its fabric whispering promises she wasn’t ready to hear.

Aina’s lip trembled, but she didn’t resist. Her fingers clutched the fabric as if it might anchor her to sanity.

“Be quick,” Alric’s cold command snapped across the room. “I won’t wait all night.”

They guided her behind a gilded screen, pulling the plain dress from her body with mechanical precision. Heat flushed her cheeks as unfamiliar hands touched her bare skin, but shame kept her silent.

The silk slid over her, cool and sensual. The dress hugged her curves, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable.

When she stepped out, Alric’s eyes darkened. He drank in the sight of her, a slow, possessive inspection that made her knees weak.

“Perfect,” he murmured, voice like velvet and sin. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing her waist. “You look exactly as you should—mine.”

Aina bit her lip, her heart thundering as she whispered, “Yes, Master.”

Alric’s grip tightened on Aina’s waist as if staking his claim. She felt the heat of his hand seep through the silk, igniting her skin. The possessiveness in his touch sent a tremor down her spine, but she didn’t dare move.

“Every breath you take belongs to me,” he whispered near her ear, his voice dark and intoxicating. “You will not hide from me, Aina. You are mine to watch, to control, and to command.”

Her heart pounded so fiercely she thought it might escape her chest. “Yes, Master,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“Good girl,” he murmured, a dangerous edge to his satisfaction. His hand slid up her back, his fingers brushing the bare skin beneath her hair. “There’s no need to fear me unless you break my rules. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Look at me.”

She lifted her gaze to meet his. His eyes, sharp as blades, searched her face for defiance. There was none. She had no fight left—only submission. His stare made her feel both powerless and consumed.

“You will learn obedience,” he continued. “I’ll teach you to trust the chains I place on you. They are not to bind—they are to protect.”

“Protect?” Aina’s voice quivered with confusion.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Yes. From a world that would devour you. You’re safer in my grasp than anywhere else.”

The words coiled around her like a dark promise. “I’ll obey, Master,” she whispered.

“Good,” he purred. “Kneel.”

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