*Thank you.* A faint whisper, almost gone. *Thank you.*

The second “thank you” wasn’t directed at him.

It seemed like hours, not minutes, before his hands dropped to his thighs and he tilted his head back to look at the false-dawn sky. It took a minute more to realize he wasn’t alone, that another mind still lightly touched his with something more than wariness.

Saetan swiftly closed his inner barriers. *You did well, Prince. I thank you…for her sake.* He cautiously began to back away from the link between them, not sure he could win a confrontation with Daemon.

But Daemon, too, backed away, exhausted.

As the link faded, just before Saetan was once more alone within himself, Daemon’s voice came to him faintly, the words a silky threat.

*Don’t get in my way, Priest.*

Grabbing one of the posts of the four-poster bed, Daemon hauled himself to his feet just as the door burst open and six guards cautiously entered the room.

Normally they had good reason to fear him, but not tonight. Even if he hadn’t drained his strength to the point of exhaustion, he wouldn’t have fought them. Tonight, whatever happened to him, he was buying time because she, wherever she was, needed a chance to recover.

The guards circled him and led him to the brightly lit outer courtyard. When he saw the two posts with the leather straps secured at the base and top, he hesitated for the briefest moment.

Lady Cornelia, the latest pet Queen who had bought his services from Dorothea SaDiablo, stood near the posts. Her eyes sparkled. Her voice dripped with excitement. “Strip him.”

Daemon angrily shrugged off the guards’ hands and began undressing when a bolt of pain from the Ring of Obedience made him catch his breath. He looked at Cornelia and lowered his hands to his sides.

“Strip him,” she said.

Rough hands pulled his clothes off and dragged him to the posts. The guards lashed his ankles and wrists to the posts, tightening the leather straps until he was stretched taut.

Cornelia smiled at him. “A slave is forbidden to use the Jewels. A slave is forbidden to do anything but basic Craft, as you well know.”

Yes, he knew. Just as he’d known that Cornelia would sense the unleashing of that much dark power and punish him for it. For most males, the threat of pain—especially the pain that could be produced by the Ring of Obedience—was enough to keep them submissive. But he’d learned to embrace agony like a sweet lover and used it to fuel his hatred for Dorothea and everything and everyone connected with her.

“The punishment for this kind of disobedience is fifty strokes,” Cornelia said. “You will do the counting. If you miss a stroke, it will be repeated until you give the count. If you lose your place, the counting will begin again.”

Daemon forced his voice to remain neutral. “What will Lady SaDiablo say about your treatment of her property?”