Chapter 6 The Serpent's Kiss

The choker lay across Isla’s trembling fingers like a live wire, humming with silent promises. She hadn’t moved since Dominic left the room, but her mind had been a warzone. Every breath, every heartbeat, throbbed with the memory of his touch, the heat of his words, the seductive threat wrapped around each of them like smoke. She had told herself she hated him. She had wanted to hate him. But what was beginning to terrify her more was how badly her body had responded to his dominance—his control. There was a darkness inside her that had awakened under his gaze, a dark little secret she’d never dared to admit. Not even to herself. She swallowed and looked down at the black velvet strip of temptation. The silver serpent charm glittered faintly under the dim light—its tiny ruby eyes staring back at her with mocking clarity. “This is for you to choose to wear,” he had said. That choice felt like standing at the edge of a cliff. If I wear it… I’m saying yes. I’m giving him power. But hadn’t he already taken it? No. Not all of it. Not yet. And wasn’t part of her aching to hand it over? To be undone by him, utterly and completely? She closed her eyes, shoving the thought away, but her fingers didn’t drop the choker. Instead, they clutched it tighter. When the door creaked open again, her heart thundered. Dominic stepped in, clad in all black—tailored shirt rolled at the sleeves, exposing the veins in his forearms and the thin scar that traced down one of them. He looked like a shadow made flesh, with eyes sharp enough to strip her bare with a single glance. She stood before she could think better of it. He noticed the choker in her hand. His gaze locked onto it and then flicked to her face. “Well?” he asked softly. Isla’s throat felt tight. She hesitated only a second longer, then slowly—deliberately—raised the choker to her neck and clasped it around herself. Dominic’s jaw ticked. His nostrils flared ever so slightly. “Good girl,” he murmured. She should’ve bristled at the words. But instead, they struck something inside her she didn’t want to name. He walked toward her, slow and powerful, and cupped her jaw with a touch both gentle and commanding. “You have no idea what you’ve just given me,” he whispered. “I haven’t given you anything,” she said, but her voice trembled. “Oh, Isla,” he said with a dangerous smile, “you just gave me everything.” Then his lips crashed down onto hers. It wasn’t a kiss—it was a storm. A war. A claiming. His tongue swept into her mouth like he had every right to it, and she met him with teeth and defiance. He growled low in his throat, pushing her back until she hit the wall. His thigh slid between hers, forcing her legs apart. Her breath caught. “Say you’re mine,” he rasped against her mouth. “No.” His hand wrapped around her throat—not squeezing, but enough to make her heart race. “Say it.” She stared into his eyes, panting. He moved lower, lips trailing along her neck, down to the serpent choker. He kissed it reverently. “I won’t beg,” she whispered. “Not yet,” he agreed, “but you will.” He stepped back. Her legs wobbled. She hated how empty she felt without his touch. Dominic walked to the corner of the room and opened a black cabinet she hadn’t noticed before. Inside was a collection of items that made her pulse spike—silk ropes, leather cuffs, blindfolds, a crop. Her breath caught. He pulled out a long strip of silk and returned to her. “Turn around.” She hesitated. He raised a brow. “Don’t make me do it for you.” She turned. The silk slid around her eyes, plunging her world into darkness. Her senses heightened instantly—every sound, every breath, every brush of air on her skin. His hands returned—on her waist, up her spine, around her arms. Then the whisper of rope. He tied her hands in front of her, not too tight, but secure. She tested them instinctively. “Do you trust me?” he asked. “No.” He chuckled. “Liar.” Then he bent her slightly forward, and her breath shuddered. She felt him kneel behind her, his lips trailing up her thighs, slow and hot and sinful. “You wore my mark,” he said. “So now I’m going to taste you.” Her knees buckled. He pressed his mouth between her legs through the thin fabric of her underwear, and she cried out—sharp, raw, desperate. She hated how fast he turned her into this, how every second of his mouth on her made her forget her name. “You’re soaked for me,” he murmured. “Your body knows what your pride won’t admit.” He pulled her panties aside and licked her again, slow and deep, holding her open. She moaned, trying to stay upright, but it was useless. Each stroke of his tongue was a demand. A command. A lesson. Her climax built with terrifying speed, sharp and consuming. “Please,” she gasped, forgetting herself. He stilled. “Please what, Isla?” “Don’t stop.” He smirked against her. “Say you’re mine.” Her pride was a broken thing in that moment. Shattered by need. “I’m—” she choked. “I’m yours.” And then she shattered, trembling against the wall, the silk blindfold damp with sweat and tears. He kissed her thighs, her stomach, her bound wrists. Worshipful. Possessive. Then he untied her and removed the blindfold. She blinked at him in the low light. Her eyes were wide, vulnerable, dazed. “You gave in,” he said. “And now the real games begin.” She opened her mouth, but he placed a finger over it. “No more lies. No more running.” He kissed her forehead gently, then looked her dead in the eye. “You’re in my world now, Isla. And I don’t let go of what’s mine.”