Page 69 of Jewel of the Assassin

He pauses, but I know my punishment isn’t done. Not after what I did. The spiked side touches my thigh, poised there like a breath waiting to escape. I prepare myself for the crack. It doesn’t come.

Theshockdoes.

Electricityrips through the paddle’s spiked edge, discharging through my thighs like molten venom. I scream into the gag, my legs convulsing.

“Oh, did you enjoy my little surprise, Valentina?” Roman purrs, voice sin dipped in brimstone. “I trust you were… adequately shocked.”

All my nerves riot, and I rock my body, fuming and screaming at him through the gag, spitting out muffled curses.

His laugh is low, primal, as if he’s worshiping my resistance just as much as he’s stripping it down. He drags the paddle gentlyalong the inside of my thigh again. My skin is ablaze, senses on fire. And the next flash of electricity explodes like stars behind my eyes.

Each strike makes me see him more clearly. Not just as my husband. Not just as my captor. But as a god. A punishing, ravenous god who would raze the world before letting me go.

“You are not mine until I’ve carved myself into every inch of your body,” Roman breathes, brushing his fingers over my hip, where welts bloom like crimson petals. “Until your mind, your will, yourfire—all of it bends for me.”

His fingers graze my inner thigh, so tender, it nearly undoes me. My body betrays me, clenching with need, and the shame only fans the flames.

“I am a master at unraveling the human psyche,” he murmurs. “A specialist in fragility. I know precisely how to break it…and when to cradle it.”

Another jolt. Another scream caught in my throat. My vision blurs as my body quakes from the inside out.

“But you, Valentina… I don’twantto break,” he says, brushing a kiss to the nape of my neck. “I want you to surrender.”

The words pierce deeper than the paddle. Deeper than the shocks.

I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on my breathing—shaky inhales, trembling exhales. The world narrows to his voice and the elements. Ice-laced wind whips over my skin, but his strikes are flame and thunder. Every blow feels like it’s branding me.Claiming me.

He’s moved to my front. The spikes bite at my pebbled nipples. Slighter shocks like a delicate flame.

My legs jerk with each one, tightening more, and I hate that it feels good. I hate that I’m aching and soaked, his cruelty tethering me to him, forcing my pleasure.

Roman pauses to press his lips against the swell of my ass, reverent. “You think you hate me for this,” he whispers. “But what you hate… is how much you want to be mine.”

I want to scream yes. I want to scream no.

But I can only moan, the gag silencing my surrender.

He’s so calm and controlled. Because this isn’t rage. It’s an intentional punishment. Because I defied him. I attacked him. I ran. Straight into death’s waiting mouth. And he dragged me back. Hesavedme.

Yes, there’s still a black veil between us. Secrets he refuses to share. But here, now? I see facets of him I don’t think anyone else has. Like an uncut black diamond—sharp, indomitable, breathtaking. He cuts me, bleeds me, brands me. And still, I burn for him.

He circles to the front again, and I look up—vision fuzzy, body wrecked—and I see him.

Roman. My storm. My ruin.

His green eyes glow like embers, wild with hunger, hair tousled by the wind. Feral. Glorious. And wholly focused on me like I’m the altar he’ll burn the world for.

A slow, triumphant smile works across his face. He leans in, careless of how his bulge nearly smothers me as he tiptoes his fingers along my folds. I moan.

“You feel that?” he growls, palm covering my drenched center. “That heat? That clench? You don’t hate this, Valentina.”

His fingers slide, tormenting—and I gasp so hard, it sounds like a sob.

“Youneedthis.”

And God help me, he’s right.

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