The world had shrunk to the room full of writhing bodies, the enormous tide of lust and shame, and Toric, who was king, emperor and god all in one. He’d removed the purple dress with great care, letting it pool to the marble floor beside the chair. Once she was naked, he’d stood up and arranged her body so that she was sitting in his throne with her arms over her head and her legs spread wide. “There,” he whispered, tilting her head until it was at just the right angle. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to see you like this, little bird?” Zoa shivered and looked away. Toric’s voice was deeper than she’d ever heard it, brought low by a mix of lust and vengeance. She could feel it in his hands as they gripped her wrists, holding her so tight she bruised. This was as much about punishing her as owning her, and she deserved it. She’d defied him, left him. Betrayed him. The words pounded through her head with such intensity, it took Zoa a moment to realize the thoughts weren’t her own.
