Page 49 of Malicious Claim (Dark Inheritance #1)

Bound to Truth.

Makros moved towards the door and locked it, the sound of the click being just a little bit louder than it really was in Leila's mind.

She stood still, watching as he took measured steps forward, deliberately rolling his sleeves up his forearms. How on earth did the sleeves end up neatly rolling over those strong muscular arms?

He loomed over her, standing in front of her, as he always had when he'd had to remind her of how small she was beneath him, how easily he could occupy the space around her.

Damn him! She hated how that singular act always made her feel threatened and aroused at the same time.

"Do you want to explain to me what you were really doing in the bathroom, now?"

Leila's pulse pounded, but she didn't step back. She reminded herself not to be weak or scared.

"What do you mean?" She lifted her chin. "I went to do what every other girl does. To... to free myself and fix my makeup."

Makros felt insulted and his gaze darkened. "No, Leila. Do you think I can be lied to so easily? You were meeting that man in the yellow shirt."

She rolled her eyes. Then threw an arm in the air. "Man in yell—? Okay, no. I'm not the one who got caught on camera with some guy in a yellow shirt. You should be questioning Stefanos, not me."

Before she was able to lower her hand, Makros clutched her wrist and yanked her close.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't follow him into the hallway."

She fought to release her hand but to no avail. "Let me go. I didn't do anything wrong."

"Wrong answer." His fingers flexed around her wrist tighter, ensuring she couldn't go free. "And for believing that you can lie to me, you'll be severely punished."

Leila's breath hitched. "Punished? For an alleged lie?"

"That, and for thinking you could play me for a fool."

"A fool?" Leila echoed. "Makros I could never play you for a fool. You're far too smart to be counted as such."

Makros studied her, his grip unyielding, his eyes darkening.

"You keep on provoking me, Leila." His free thumb brushed over her lips, slowly and deliberately. "When will you understand that every act of defiance will be met with punishment? It's almost as if you like to be punished."

Her breath quickened. "That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" His voice dripped with mockery. "Because every time I give you a chance to behave, you do the opposite. You lie. You disobey. You push back at every command and you delude yourself into thinking you can manipulate me."

She narrowed her eyes. "Okay, I've had enough. You have no right to call me a liar. People only lie to people they are afraid of and you don't scare me Makros."

Makros chuckled in surprise, wondering if he had heard her correctly. But that was not the bone of contention, so he stayed on topic.

"You're so full of shit, Leila." He leaned in, his breath warm against her neck. "Your pupils shrink when you lie. Your pulse spikes up. Like it's doing right now."

She swallowed hard but held his gaze.

"I'm not a liar," she said, voice more convicted than she felt. "I haven't done anything wrong either."

"I don't have time for your little games, Leila." He released her wrist, only to tip her chin up with two fingers. "But I'll have you know that you don't get to do or say whatever you please and walk away without consequences."

Her pulse thundered, but she forced herself not to flinch.

"If you're so sure I'm lying," she said, "then why do you want a confession?"

His lips quivered disbelievingly. "Because I want you to feel remorse, Leila. I want to hear you confess and beg for my forgiveness."

She threw her head back in laughter, wiping away a single tear. "God, look at you. Maybe you should've tried out priesthood. It suits you well."

Makros tilted his head to one side, and murmured, "You think this is amusing?"

Before she could answer, his voice dropped into a low command.

"Take off your dress."

The laughter died in her throat. The amusement drained from her eyes, replaced by something else, something trapped between fear and nervous anticipation.

He lifted a brow. "Did you not hear me?"

Her fingers curled at her sides. "I—"

He stole the rest of her words with a sharp slap across her cheek. Heat radiated where his hand had struck her skin, but worse than the sting was the way he stared down at her devoid of emotion.

"Stop being a priest, Leila," he snapped. He held her jaw, forcing her to look at him. "I am your god. And when I tell you to do something, you obey. Capisci ?"

Leila nodded and with trembling fingers, she reached for the tiny strap of her red nightgown.

Makros crossed his arms, watching her. "Slowly."

Her breath hitched.

The dress loosened around her shoulders, creeping down her arms slowly before dropping to the floor. She stepped out of the folded material at her feet, standing left in nothing but her bare body, exposed under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Are you satisfied now?" she asked, keeping her voice steady despite the way her stomach twisted.

Makros paused, his gaze lingering on her as if he were seeing her nakedness for the first time.

"No," he answered bluntly. "Come here."

But Makros didn't wait for her to move towards him. He reached out, grabbing her wrist in a firm grip, pulling her forward with ease.

A lump formed in her throat as she stumbled into him, her bare skin brushing against his clothed body. The contrast sent a jolt through her, but she had no time to dwell on it before he lifted and threw her onto the bed.

The mattress absorbed the impact before sending her bouncing upward with a gentle jolt. In an instant Makros was on top of her, but she kicked out, twisting her body to the side, her nails clawing at his forearm where the dragon tattoo was drawn.

"Get off me!" she spat, arching her back to shove him away.

Makros barely flinched. He caught her flailing wrists with one hand, forcing them above her head with a single, brutal movement.

"Stop fighting me," he murmured.

Leila bucked her hips, trying to throw him off. One of her legs slipped free enough to deliver a sharp kick at his side. She barely landed the hit.

Makros inhaled sharply, his patience snapping.

He let go of her wrist, gripping her chin hard enough to make her gasp. "Enough."

Leila glared up at him, breath heaving.

His gaze darkened. "That fire in you... It's what makes this fun."

"Go to hell," she hissed.

He smirked. "Ladies first."

Before she could strike, he grabbed her wrist and snapped the thick leather cuff around it, securing her arm against the headboard.

Panic flared in her chest.

Leila twisted, using her free to hand claw at his wrist, but Makros reacted faster. He wrenched her other arm up, ignoring her struggle as he fastened the second cuff.

Her breath came hard and fast as she yanked against the sudden restraint, but they didn't budge.

Makros sat back slightly, and spanked her butt. "Stop squirming."

She snarled, lifting her legs to kick him off, but he caught her ankle midway.

"Nice try."

He yanked her leg down and fastened it with another cuff.

Leila thrashed harder, using her remaining free leg to twist to the side, nearly slipping away from his grasp.

Makros exhaled, as if exasperated. "Leila, Leila..."

Then he caught her ankle and pinned it down, securing the last restraint.

Leila yanked against them, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. The cuffs didn't budge.

Makros sat back, satisfied, running his gaze over her fully bound form.

"Now," he murmured, voice dark with promise, "where were we?"

"You're sick," she spat.

Makros leaned over her, his hot breath caressing against her cheek. "You've been very badly behaved, Leila. And now, you're going to learn what that costs."

She gasped on a shallow breath as he reached out for the coil of rope among the rest of the equipment on the long table.

Makros unwound the thick rope slowly, letting it slide across her skin. She could feel a tension growing as he wrapped it around the curve of her breast, the rough texture against her sensitive skin.

Then he tugged hard.

She gasped and swore loudly as the rope bit, tightening mercilessly about her.

Her breasts swelled under the restraint, flesh bulging between the coils as Makros pulled the knots tight with a practiced ease.

The restraints bit into her flesh, scoring it with deep red creases.

A throbbing ache beat where the rope was tight, her nipples growing painfully erect from the blood denied to them.

Leila swallowed, heat crawling up her throat. Her breasts felt impossibly tight, trapped, the rope unyielding as every small movement caused the pain to increase unbearably.

He ran his fingers over the swollen flesh, feeling the slightest jerks in the way skin shifted under his fingertips.

"Did my little trip make you forget who own you?" Makros asked.

"No, it didn't," she said a little too quickly and he smiled.

Her breath caught when he tightened the rope a final time, and her body twitched at the stinging wave of pain. A whimper escaped before she could swallow it.

He stepped back, cocking his head to one side as he examined his work. "Perfection," he whispered, his hand closing around the flogger next.

She cried out as the first lash struck against her belly, the stinging pain flaring along her flesh. She bit down hard on her lip to stifle the cry.

He landed another strike around the same spot. This one across her legs.

She convulsed in the restraints, her breathing shaking.

"Tell me the truth about the restaurant," Makros barked.

"I already did!" she spat out.

The next lash came down over her breast, where the rope had constricted around her. A strangled groan tore from her throat before she could stop herself.

Makros paused, tilting his head. "Already getting sensitive?"

She flashed him a glare through the pain.

"Fuck you."

Makros chuckled. "Oh, Leila. I'm just getting started."

She didn't have time to steel herself before he struck her again.

The pain mounted, cutting across her in fierce blazes, yet she refused to shatter. Even while searing welts marks fell all around her abdomen, thighs, and breasts, she clenched her teeth, fighting off her shriek.

Makros took a step back, putting aside the whip.

"Still lying?" he mused, running his fingers over her quivering figure. "Then I'll do this for as long as possible."

Leila hardened herself when he reached the table for something else.

Her breath caught as she realized what the object in his hand was.

An electric vibrator.

She jerked at the restraints, terror racing. "Makros, you don't dare—"

But he did.

The moment the cold silicone touched her, she thrashed, writhing away as far as she could manage.

It didn't do any good.

He forced it in, the slow penetration making her body stiffen by reflex.

Then he turned it on.

Leila choked on a gasp, her back arching as thrumming vibrations rippled through her.

Makros sat beside her, watching her twisting. "How long do you suppose you'll resist, Leila? How long before you beg?"

"Go to hell," she snarled.

He turned the setting higher.

A moan ripped from her throat.

She pressed her lips together to seal, but her body betrayed her. Heat rose deep in her abdomen, pain and pleasure entwining in a bitter, intoxicating blend.

Makros leaned forward, lips against her ear. "I can continue this indefinitely, or I could stop. All you have to do to make this end is admit that you spoke with the man in yellow."

Leila pinched her eyes shut, struggling against it.

But with every passing second, the pleasure leaned towards something unbearable.

"Okay, okay I spoke with him."

She started crying.