The air in the room was thick, heavy with the metallic scent of blood and sweat, mingled with the cloying perfume of wax candles flickering in wrought-iron sconces. Shadows twisted on the walls, as if the mansion itself were alive, watching the spectacle with invisible eyes. I was still tied to the bed, the sheets biting into my skin, each knot a reminder of my helplessness. The silver collar around my neck burned, a constant burn that suffocated Clarissa, who roared in pain and fury in the depths of my mind at the helplessness—and arousal—I was in.
“Hold on, Nellie!” Clarissa growled, but her voice was a faint echo, crushed by the oppressive magic of the collar. I gritted my teeth, my wrists straining against the restraints, but even though they were sheets, Ethan had tied them so tightl
