The east wing of the archives smelled of dust, old wax, and the faint metallic scent of long-buried secrets. Callie had been sent there under the pretext of cataloging forgotten ledgers, another task Darian imposed on her like silken ties, innocuous to outsiders, intimate to her. The key he'd pressed into her palm before dawn had been warm against her body; his fingers had rested on hers just long enough to remind her of the plug still inside her, a remnant of the previous night's test, the silver chain now discreetly tucked beneath her simple gray maid's robes. She moved alone through the narrow corridors, a candle in one hand, her heart pounding too hard in the silence. Each step shifted the weight of the obsidian, dragged the chain against her still-swollen clitoris, sent fresh sparks of denied need through her core. She hadn't been allowed release since the antechamber's reward. Darian's last words before leaving her bed had been simple, devastating:

"Feel me inside you as you se