"I trust you."

  The words lingered in the air between them, heavier than gravity. Soren let out a slow breath, pulled her back up to standing, and stepped behind her. Then he retrieved the long coil of purple silk rope he’d prepared earlier. The strands gleamed faintly in the dim cabin light, smooth and strong, meant for restraint without harm.

  “Arms,” he said gently.

  Aurania hesitated only a moment before crossing them behind her back, her forearms lining up parallel. She was breathing harder now, though not from exertion. When he looped the silk around her wrists, she flinched at the first touch, then steadied, her chin tilting upward as if bracing for battle.

  But there was no battle. He wrapped the silk slowly, deliberately, several tight layers binding her forearms together, the padded softness biting nothing into her skin. Each knot was neat, practiced, and final.

  “Too tight?” he asked.

  She tested the give, muscles shifting against the rope, but the silk only creaked, holding firm. “No,” she admitted, voice low.

  Satisfied, he let the end of the rope drop for a moment. He moved to the other side of the room, and Aurania stood without turning, her back still to him.

  Until she heard him pick up the chain.

  She turned quickly, her gaze looking over her shoulder. The chain was massive—the metal links almost as big as the ones she used to bind him the first time they met. Her eyes went wide.

  But not from fear.

  Soren secured the end of the chain to a metal loop jutting from the wall—a simple thing he had requested from the evolving ship. He held the chain up and began walking back around the bed, each link clinking faintly as he moved. He pulled it across the bed, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Finally, when he got to her, he looked down at her arms, tied behind her back. The chain was deliberately measured. He tied the end of the rope through the last link in the chain, looping it multiple times to make sure it could hold up.

  When he was done, Soren walked around in front of her. Then he took several steps slowly backwards and held one finger up, curling it towards himself in a repetitive motion.

  “Come.”

  Her nostrils flared slightly.

  She took a step toward him, and the chain pulled taut.

  Soren leaned slightly to the side, observing the chain’s tension.

  He looked back at her. “I said come. Like you mean it.”

  Her gaze grew darker, and she tried to lunge at him—

  The chain slammed against her might, and held fast.

  Soren smirked.

  “Good,” he breathed, voice heavy.

  He finally stepped toward her, one hand coming up and gently grasping her jaw. He gazed fiercely into her eyes.

  His other hand traced gently down one shoulder, making her shiver. It came to rest on the side of her torso by her ribs, where the tie of her upper robes held tight.

  He waited silently for permission.

  She finally nodded, an almost imperceptible motion through the way she had subtly began to shake.

  Soren pulled the tie loose.

  The knot came loose with a whisper of cloth.

  He’d seen her laid bare before—glimpses here and there, it wasn’t her way to cover herself up—and most recently when they’d bathed together.

  But this was different.

  The top of her robe slid away and Soren intentionally saw her fully revealed.

  She wasn’t built like any human woman. She was more. Bronze skin, muscles thick enough to crack stone, and layered with curves so generous it almost defied sense. Her chest, unbound now, fell heavy and proud—so impossibly full, the size of her breasts seemed to defy gravity. Every rise of her breath made them shift slowly, demanding reverence as much as it stirred hunger.

  The pheromones were dulled by the bitter tea, but the dark oval around her stiff peaks seemed to hold his gaze so hard he felt like his mouth was trying to draw in like a magnet.

  He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he steadied himself.

  When he opened them again, his eyes traced down over her abdomen—not lean and sharp, but broad and dense, every line of her body radiating power. Her waist narrowed just enough to exaggerate the sweep of her hips, which flared outward into a shape that seemed designed to draw the eye, to promise life itself. The thin gold chain at her belt glinted faintly as it slid against her skin, the long panels of cloth parting just enough to frame the vast strength of her thighs.

  Soren swallowed hard. She was an apex predator, a living weapon, a warmaiden carved for battle—and yet standing before him now, chained and trembling, she was also something else. A goddess of flesh. A design so deliberate it felt cosmic.

  And she had given him permission to touch her.

  He met her eyes, and his hand reached out to where the thin gold chain was clasped. With a flick of his fingers, it came undone—the robes forgotten before they hit the floor.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  She swallowed hard.

  He stepped beside her, taking up the weight of the chain in one hand. He gently placed the other on her abdomen, just under the heavy swell of her breasts.

  She inhaled sharply at the touch.

  Soren pushed her back until the bed met the back of her legs, then guided her to sitting. He had to be careful not to press their bodies too close together or he feared it would be too hard for him to resist.

  He lifted the chain out, pulling the slack across the bed as he guided her down onto her back. Her arms bound behind her caused her chest to arch slightly upward in a posture that was equal parts vulnerable and regal. Her legs shifted instinctively, thighs tense, and he gently ran a hand along one, a comforting, grounding motion for both of them.

  “Stay,” he said quietly, though they both knew she had no choice now.

  Her eyes burned into him, equal parts defiance and surrender, as he stood up and walked around the bed to stand by her head. As she gazed up at him, she looked a little scared—and very excited.

  Soren leaned down slowly, moving almost like he was going to kiss her, but instead moved so his eyes lingered a couple short inches away from hers. They gazed into each other, and he focused mentally on their link.

  “How do you feel?” he whispered.

  Her breathing grew sharp, and she didn’t answer with words. But she nodded several times—quick, fast motions.

  Soren’s hands came up and braced on each side of her shoulders.

  He placed a kiss on her collarbone and she gasped.

  He moved lower.

  The next time his mouth touched her, he was halfway to her sternum. He lingered there for just a moment. Then he pressed his tongue to her skin, and slowly ran it down one breast, heading toward the tip.

  Her back arched as he moved.

  It took every ounce of willpower he had not to move faster. Her soft swell was inviting him like nothing he’d ever experienced. When he finally reached it, his head dropped down and he took the entire nipple into his mouth like a man dying of hunger.

  Aurania cried out.

  The sound reverberated through the cabin, sharp and guttural, and for a moment Soren felt her whole body strain against the bindings. The chain rattled violently, her muscles flexing as if she might tear free—but then she stilled, shuddering, breath breaking into ragged gasps.

  He didn’t let go. His lips sealed firm around her peak, tongue drawing long, deliberate strokes across the stiffened flesh until her cry dissolved into a low growl in the back of her throat. He felt himself swell, but he forced himself to ignore, focusing only on her.

  Every instinct screamed to lose himself—to take, to bite, to drown. The pheromones clawed at him, demanding release. But he forced the hunger down. Worship. That word echoed in his skull like a vow.

  He released her breast with a soft pop, strands of moisture catching the dim light, and moved over to latch onto the other. He placed one hand on her abdomen, holding her steady with his entire forearm as his mouth filled with the dark inviting skin.

  It was one of the most intoxicating tastes he’d ever experienced.

  “Fffuck—” she growled at him.

  She continued to squirm beneath him as his tongue circled, mouth applying firm suction.

  Finally, he released—another wet pop as he rose up.

  He could have wiped his mouth, but he intentionally let the thick strand of saliva stretch as far as possible. He stood up, eyes locking on hers, and moved slowly around the bed.

  Her eyes were begging.

  When he came up at the edge of the bed, still completely dressed, she opened her legs willingly.

  The scent of her hit him like a wall—rich, primal, impossible to ignore. His breath shook. His eyes were drawn to her soft folds, it felt impossible to rip them away.

  Soren took a deep breath.

  He had to close his eyes and take a step back for a moment.

  For a split second, she almost seemed scared—worried that it wasn’t going to work.

  But he opened his eyes, and he was looking right into hers.

  “I’m here,” Soren said. Then he smirked. “To worship.”

  Her expression broke again and she bit her lip.

  He placed one hand on her knee and she flinched. She was more steady when his other hand found the opposite knee.

  Soren knelt down.

  As his knees touched the floor, he pressed his forehead to her thigh, just inside her knee. He took a moment to ground himself.

  Then his mouth made contact.

  The soft flesh inside her thigh tasted like salt and heat, sweat rolling across bronze skin that flexed and trembled beneath his tongue.

  Gently, gradually, he kissed closer and closer, moving along her thigh. She trembled more with every touch.

  He pressed his forehead briefly against her thigh, grounding himself, before lifting his head and meeting her eyes again.

  “Still with me?” he whispered.

  Aurania’s answer was a growl that broke into a laugh, ragged and breathless. “If you stop now, I will kill you.”

  Soren smirked faintly, the fire in his chest steadying. “That’s what we’re here for.”

  He wrapped a hand around each of her thighs, pulling them against the side of his head.

  And then he lowered his mouth to her.

  Aurania’s whole body bucked against the restraints, a sound like a roar tearing out of her throat. The chain groaned against the wall, metal protesting her strength—but she could not break free, and so all she could do was writhe and endure as Soren worshipped her like the goddess he had named her.

  Her thighs squeezed against his head and he couldn’t help but smile at the pressure.

  As his tongue parted her folds with slow, reverent pressure, a taste filled his mouth like pure liquid sin. He’d been warned of this—the pheromones were even stronger here.

  His senses flooded and he almost lost himself.

  Soren’s hands caressed her thighs, starting to grip harder, but he forced himself to focus. If he held too hard, he would injure her. But he would not do that, he would not allow himself to do that.

  She was already close.

  Her hips bucked, hard—dragging a raw growl out of her throat. The chain clanged and groaned as if the whole wall might give way, but Soren only pressed himself deeper, tongue moving with the slow, grinding rhythm of a man intent on worship rather than conquest.

  Aurania’s breath came ragged, broken into primal sounds and sharp gasps. Her legs clamped tighter around his head, enough that most men would have been crushed—but Soren reveled in the pressure, the bruising strength of her thighs only driving him further into his vow.

  He tightened his grip on her hips, not to pin her, but to guide her—each thrust of her body met by steady, anchoring hands, forcing her to feel rather than simply thrash. His tongue worked her with unwavering precision, circling, stroking, dragging over the places that made her cry out instead of growl.

  Her voice broke, teeth bared in a near-roar. “Soren—!”

  He only hummed against her, the vibration shooting through her like a shockwave. That was enough to unravel her. Her whole body arched upward, every bound muscle straining, every vein in her neck taut as the climax ripped out of her like thunder.

  The cabin seemed to shake with the force of her release—a guttural, war-cry scream that dissolved into a shuddering, gasping sob.

  Soren held her through it, mouth unrelenting until the violent bucking of her hips faltered into tremors. Only then did he slow, dragging his tongue in one long, reverent stroke before lifting his head.

  His mouth and chin glistened in the cabin light. He could’ve wiped it away.

  He just smiled.

  Aurania collapsed back against the mattress, chest heaving, chains rattling faintly with every quake of her breath. For the first time since he’d known her, she looked utterly undone.

  After a long moment, chest still heaving, she asked, “How do you feel? Are you still in control?”

  Soren closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself. When he opened them again, he was once more staring her in the eyes.

  Her eyes went wide as he placed the tip of his finger against the drowning entrance of her folds. He pressed lightly, just barely beginning to enter.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, almost panicked.

  “That’s one,” Soren said.

  He lowered his mouth again.