Emmanuelle wasn’t a quitter. She wasn’t a fleer. She was programmed to be a fighter. A survivor, and she would fight to the death.
“Baby, stop.” Val’s thumb slid over the back of her hand. “What’s wrong? Just breathe. You did this earlier, as if you’re having an anxiety attack.”
His voice was pitched low, and he had leaned forward, his lips against her ear. When he spoke, the movement against her skin was sensual, as it could only be with Val. She felt each stroke slide deep, an arrow of pure fire shooting to her sex. She didn’t want to feel the way she did about him. She didn’t want him to be the one to make her feel so alive, but he always managed to when no one else could.
“I told them as much as I could about us, Val. I had to.” She made her confession, feeling as if she’d betrayed him.
“It’s all right, Emme. I expected you to. We just have to be very careful who finds out about this. There are men who would try to take you and some of the others.”
Stefano approached the bed, but stayed at the foot of it. Ricco did as well. Both were very aware of Dario closely watching their every move without seeming to.
“We’d like to see your shadows,” Stefano said. “If you could shift positions so you’re to the left of that light fixture, your shadow will hit the wall next to Emme’s.”
Emmanuelle’s heart began to pound. Adrenaline poured into her body as Valentino once again turned his head to meet her gaze. This time, his eyes held hers. Dark green. Incredibly sensual. He obeyed Stefano slowly, shifting his body those few inches until his shadow moved, a dark phantom on the wall. The moment that velvety apparition appeared close to hers, thick ropes reached for her shadow, quickly looping around it.
The moment the first rope touched her shadow, Emmanuelle felt the brutal sexual jolt hit her like a freight train. It was vicious, a firestorm, rushing through every nerve ending, lighting her up with a million white-hot flames. Val’s hand tightened around hers, nearly crushing hers, and his eyes went hungry, the lines in his face carved deep with a mixture of something she couldn’t name and pure carnal lust.
The ropes swarmed so fast to her shadow, it was a takeover. The shadows were too close. Her shadow was already weighed down, unable to move quickly out of the way, even when she tried to pull away from Val. His hand clamped down tighter over hers, and he pulled her closer to him, edging their shadows inches closer, giving his shadow more of an advantage.
Emmanuelle noticed each time the ropes themselves were different, as were the knots and loops binding her. These ropes seemed to sink into her shadow, merging with it. They were thicker and the knots so intricate she could barely process them before they were sinking into her shadow among all the other ropes with their loops and knots.
“Turn off the light,” Stefano ordered.
Valentino didn’t react to the command. He pulled Emmanuelle to him and took her mouth. She heard thunder in her ears. Lightning struck a million places in her body all at once. There was chaos reigning in her mind. She felt pure fire rushing through her veins like a firestorm out of control. She nearly crawled onto the bed with Val to get closer to him, to feed that wicked craving that wouldn’t let up, wouldn’t let go, just fed and fed, growing stronger and stronger until she needed to straddle Valentino and take everything her body demanded. She pulled back abruptly before she lost herself completely.
The ropes were too heavy. Her shadow was completely lost. She was lost. She knew she was. There was no saving her, no matter what Ricco tried to do. She looked up at Valentino, meeting his eyes, seeing the knowledge there. Forcing herself to see that not only did he trap her deliberately, but he did so without remorse.
“The light.” This time Stefano snarled the word, a low, harsh command, and he was already striding around the bed toward the offending and very expensive sconce on the wall. It was clear he had every intention of smashing it.
Dario snapped off the light. “Sorry. Was a little slow.”
Emmanuelle knew he was giving Val more time to trap her in those heavier ropes, the ones that sank through her shadow into her skin. She felt every one of them penetrate deep, binding Valentino to her even tighter until there didn’t seem a way to separate.
She turned her head to look at Ricco, her only hope. Her one real hope. Ricco, the rope master. He knew every knot known to man. If there was one person on the face of the earth who might have been able to free her, it was her brother. She had been unaware of anything or anyone but Val when he was kissing her, when their shadows were touching, but Ricco had stepped close to study the knots.