Page 68 of Malicious Claim (Dark Inheritance #1)

Caged Bird (I)

LEILA'S POV

"This is just foreplay for us."

I meant it as a joke. Really. Just a harmless little tease. But the way his lips curled into a slow smirk—no hint of amusement in his eyes—told me he didn't take it that way.

Makros stepped closer. My heart thudded. Loud. Too loud. He always seemed taller when he was this close, like his six-foot frame expanded just to tower over me.

"Foreplay, huh? You sound like a Norse goddess."

Wait, I did?

"Let's go," he said.

"To where?" I asked, trying to sound casual. Cool. Unbothered.

It definitely came out more squeaky than smooth.

Makros didn't break stride. "That was an order, not a question."

He veered to the far end of the room, and I hesitated. Wasn't "let's go" usually followed by... leaving the room? Where the hell was he going?

We passed the dragon-carved mantel and the massive bookshelves lining the walls. Books for days. Seriously, what's the point of all this if no one reads them? I'd never seen him touch a single one.

Then he stopped. In front of a wall.

Just a wall.

He placed his hand on the carved dragon's head embedded in the paneling. I stayed a step behind, watching like what the hell is this?

There was a soft click.

A seam appeared in the wood—so faint I'd have missed it if I blinked. Then he pressed again, and a hidden door creaked open.

Okay... no. Nope. This was officially horror movie territory.

Secret door? Creepy silent mechanism? No thank you.

I didn't want to follow him to go in.

But of course, what I wanted didn't matter to him. It never has, probably never will.

So I went.

Damn. I had to admit, what I saw was kind of terrifying.

This wasn't like the dungeon he had in Italy. That one almost looked cute compared to this. Like an Airbnb with handcuffs. This room? This one looked like something out of a nightmare. Or a really dark fantasy. I wasn't sure which.

The room was lit with red lights, hanging low from the ceiling, making everything glow in this weird, sexy way. The room was bigger than I expected, way deeper. Like it just kept going.

Leather cuffs hung from a bar on the far wall.

There was a bench in the middle, definitely not meant for sitting down.

Next to it was a flat board with straps and something that looked like a frame used to hang people upside down.

My stomach twisted. I could already picture myself tied to that bench, struggling, maybe begging.

That thought shouldn't have excited me.. . but it kind of did.

There was a cabinet full of stuff I recognized, blindfolds, gags, paddles, floggers, clamps. All the usual stuff. Some I'd used, some I'd seen, some I'd only watched in movies or read in books. Talk about living a life out of a movie.

Then my eyes hit the corner.

A steel cage.

And on top of it... a collar and a black chain.

I just stood there.

Frozen.

My chest tightened, like I couldn't take a full breath.

I didn't know what I felt at first. Fear? Disgust? Curiosity? Maybe all of them hit me at once. I wasn't sure.

The collar. That's what did it for me. It wasn't the cuffs or the bench or even the cage. It was that stupid little thing just sitting there like it was waiting for me. Like it knew.

My thoughts started spinning, what did he expect me to do in here? What was I supposed to say? Did he want me to like it? Was this supposed to be some twisted surprise?

Part of me wanted to run. Just turn around and leave before he said anything. But another part... the part I hated... wanted to know more. Wanted to feel what it would be like to give in, to lose control completely. And that made me feel sick. And excited. And ashamed.

I didn't want to look at him. I didn't want him to see whatever expression was on my face because I didn't even understand it myself.

I just stood there, hoping he wouldn't speak. Because if he did, I wasn't sure what would come out of me.

Tears? A scream? Or something worse.

Makros didn't give me time to catch my breath.

He walked straight to the velvet cabinet, ready for action. He opened a drawer. Pulled something out. And came back toward me.

My brain was yelling at me to move, to say something, to react, maybe by hitting him with something. But I did nothing. I just stood there like an idiot while my heart pounded like a drum in my ears.

"Put these on," he said, his tone low and authoritative.

I looked down at what he held out: sexy black lingerie, delicate lace with a naughty edge and thigh-high socks.

So. he wanted me to get dressed up like an expensive hoe.

Noted.

I took the set from him, our hands meeting for only an instant to leave a bolt of warmth up my arm. He remained where he was, arms crossed, eyes narrowed—waiting.

"Where is the changing room?" I asked, half in hesitation. Half to provoke.

Makros arched an eyebrow. His face didn't flinch. "You can change here."

Of course I could.

I turned my back to him. Not because I was shy, but because if I faced him while undressing, I wouldn't make it past the first clasp. My fingers found the zipper of my dress and pulled it down. Slowly, just how he liked it. The silence between us buzzed like a tight wire.

The air was cold on my skin, but his eyes were warm. I could feel it.

Bra. Gone.

Panties. Gone.

Dignity? Suspended.

I stepped into the lingerie. It clung to all my curves as if it had been made specifically to be tailored around me.

The thigh-high socks were smooth and silky, shaping my legs to perfection. I stood there one beat longer than I needed to. Letting him look. Letting myself be seen.

Then I turned around.

Makros's jaw snapped shut, once. Otherwise, he didn't move. But his eyes? They said it all.

"Good girl," he said, and it was not a compliment, it was a leash.

He moved around me, his hand tracing the exposed skin between socks and lingerie. Possessive. Lazy. Deadly.

"Do you have any idea what happens to good girls in my domain?" he asked, speaking low and warmly into my ear.

"Cookies?" I answered.

His laugh was gentle.

"No," he said. "Good girls are broken first."

just like that my heart flipped.