Quietly but firmly, she said, "Call the turn, dealer."
Then he knew. If he ever demanded more power over her than she held from him in return, she would be gone. And as Lucius said, he would fade to dust.
The Wild Hunt was gathering, and he could not stop it. As if he wanted to.
So here was the chance to do something right. Not that he knew what it was. He only knew what he was going to do, to hold her as she would be held, tonight with leather and silk and heat and pressure: she was trusting him, as she had been all along, and he had to stop rejecting that trust. Whatever happened in the morning, he was the master of the house tonight. And the monster. And maybe even the hero.
He leaned over her, spoke into her ear. "I will never harm you," he said, "and you will not ever allow me to harm you. Understand?"
She nodded once, slowly.
"Then give me your safeword."
She shut her eyes tight and whispered it.
He stroked the feather across her lips. She pulled in a convulsive breath.
He bent to kiss her bound wrists. She sighed from deep down. Her cheek was hot to the touch.
Enough, perhaps, for the two of them to keep out the cold.