Sacrificed to the Sea - Cari Silverwood Page 0,30

of the water, spawning ripples. Her back felt the nudge of her hair where it drifted. “… as tired as you were, and you would not have been so careless as to leave your doors for me to open.”

“Huh. Smarter than I thought. Yeah, the windows are locked down and the door locks are passworded.” When she cocked her head, he read it correctly as puzzled and added, “Means you need the right combo of words tapped on a keyboard – written down – before it will unlock.”

That seemed crazy. “Why? How?”

“I have things I want kept secret from people and things I don’t want stolen.” He’d turned to rummage in his brown bag. “As for how – it’s complicated.”

If he wanted to tie her up again, would she let him?

It seemed so unnecessary, considering.

“I could have killed you then broken out through a window,” she mused.

His hand emerged holding a chain and a black dog collar.

“Nope. The glass is toughened.”

And what was toughened glass? She could guess. There were so many new things, new words. Walking among humans once yearly had only let her see the surface of what mankind had invented and how people had changed.

He raised the tinkling chain, with his feet set apart and him watching her, as if he wished to see her response.

She was close enough to register the hazel-brown color of his eyes, the wrinkling around them, and a tiny scar on his forehead. Again, he wore a soft shirt that fit him perfectly. When he moved, she could see the heavy curves and ridges on his chest and stomach. At the end of his ill-shaped dove-gray pants his bare feet showed. They looked large when she thought of her own toes.

Men, she decided, had nice feet.

“Think of this as a compliment.”

She looked up, pretending she had not been admiring his toes.

“No gag, No rope. Just this on your neck and the chain.”

Oh. That was for her not a pet? Raffaela blew bubbles, letting her lower body drift while still holding onto the ramp.

“Why? Why should I let you collar me like a dog?”

“Because it pleases me and lets me control you still, just a little.” He held up finger and thumb a fraction apart. “I like keeping control of my females.”

“Females?”

That was not the proper way for a man to address his lovers. Even she knew this.

“Don’t like that word?” He grinned maliciously. “How about my captive? Better? Because you are that.”

He squatted down, played with the chain, looped it like a snake along the ground then up his leg, over his bent knee. Tempting her.

It did tempt her and was somehow seductive.

A chain and a collar.

For her. She imagined the man placing the collar on her neck, buckling it.

Making her his…

Desires ascended, whispering to her, washing away the centuries of loneliness. Her loneliness had been leeching away her soul. Nevertheless, she had survived, had been her own keeper, carer, and this, living in his pool, was surely fated to fail.

“Come, little captive.” He twitched the chain.

With teeth denting her bottom lip, she contemplated Wolfgang, and thought idly about scaring him. No gun showed, anywhere. Was this a game or serious? When blood was involved calling it a game seemed wrong.

There had been and would be more blood. It was in the nature of her kind.

“Am I?” Asking was fraught with danger – the danger of encouraging something ever more forbidden. Chains and collars were for animal pets, not lovers. This was something her society, her time, would have considered unthinkable.

Memories surfaced of the day before, of their lovemaking. Her mind split between the past and the present. As if he had touched her, her intimate area pulsed with warmth.

Which was odd since she had nothing there until she shifted.

“You are my pretty captive, yes. I have you confined to my pool and at my disposal. The doors are locked to you.” His head inclined. “You are argumentative, today. Come. Let’s do some more research.” He shook the chain, opened the collar. “Come to me.”

That deceitful mouth of his smiled, as if he knew she would obey.

Raffalea swished her tail, languidly, pretending to think in spite of the burgeoning ache within. She prolonged the moment to tease him then swam over.

“Good. Thank you,” he said as he removed the necklace, buckled the collar at the back, then rearranged it and clipped on the chain. She suffered the procedure, unmoving. “Up here.”

After patting the very top of the ramp, where there was no