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“I ought to punish you,” Markos growled, swiping a hand through his hair.

I stepped in front of him, gaze clashing with his. “So do it,” I dared.

In the dark, it was impossible to tell where the blue of his irises ended, and the black of his soul began. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Yes, I do.” My lips were dry. I wet them before taking a steadying breath. “I’m asking to restore the balance.”

Markos let out a Greek expletive.

I held out my hand. “Do what you will, your captive is at your mercy.”

Instead of taking my hand and lacing his fingers in mine, he gripped my wrist. With a sharp tug, he jerked me against his body.

“What I’m about to do to you isn’t for the faint of heart. If at any point you don’t like something, you tell me, and I’ll stop immediately.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

That word was barely a whisper.

“I’m serious, Serena. I need your complete and utter trust, or this is never going to work,” he growled.

Maybe it was a trick of the dark, but I swore this monster had fangs where his teeth should have been.

“You have it, pirate.”

In one fluid motion, Markos snatched me around the waist and hoisted me over his shoulder as if I weighed no more than a pillow. I laughed softly, a breathless noise of anticipation.

He hauled me back up the beach, carried me up the thirteen flights of stairs, and didn’t set me down until we were back in the bedroom. He hadn’t broken a sweat. He wasn’t even winded. The only light came from the kitchen, the condo heavy with shadows. For the first time since being here, I saw this space in a new light. It wasn’t a home, despite my efforts to redecorate. This space was a lair, and I was finally at the mercy of the monster who dwelled here.

“Stay here.” His words were full of a delicious promise, dark and with the smallest hint of danger. They made me shiver more than any gentle, tender caress.

Rummaging in the closet, he produced a length of rope. My heart thumped wildly, only guessing what he would do with that.

“This will tear your skin if you struggle. I’ll be careful, but just know it’s not meant to hurt you—badly.” Markos explained, coming back to me. He ran the end through his fingers.

“Okay,” I breathed. It seemed the only word I was capable of forming.

“Take off your clothes.” His voice was the texture of gravel. “Lift your hair and keep your hands up.”

I obeyed.

The rope was rough against my skin. Nothing about this night was tender, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. Markos was willing to show me his darkest parts. It felt only right that I experience every sensation that way.

My pirate drew the rope across my ribs and worked a knot. Those deft fingers were quick and efficient. It was an art to watch them work. Once it was secure, he began to move around me, draping the length strategically across my body. The nerves on my skin came alive with little sparks as Markos wrapped the rope first under my breasts, around my back, then over the tops. He moved back to my front, crossed the cord, and created an X—marking the spot.

It was tight, restricting my movements and my breath. Each time it bound a new place, it stripped my control. I was vulnerable, at his mercy, and yet in this exchange I found a new intimacy in the sensual act. There was no room for hesitation, not that I felt any. The only thing coursing through my veins was white-hot desire.

That emotion pulsed between us, and I knew he felt it too.

Like an erotic magic.

Markos moved around me several more times, creating an intricate pattern across my chest and torso. My breasts strainedfrom the pressure around them. They were full, squeezed from the binding. And they ached from lack of attention!

Patience.

I was certain that this was by design. The build of pleasure was too keen to be mere chance. My nipples perked, painful and needy. I had to bite my tongue not to whimper a plea that the pirate give them some attention, relieve the ache just a little.

Markos slid his knife from the sheath on his calf.