I wanted to rail at him for being a sick, twisted bastard, but beneath my incandescent ire, I was terrified. Dante was unlike any man I’d ever encountered before. He was tormenting me, but this wasn’t a punishment. Not like when he’d bent me over the dining table and swatted me with the newspaper. Not like how Luca had spanked me when he’d first kidnapped me. Not even like when my father’s guards had slapped me when I stepped out of line.

Those were all consequences for my actions. Justified or not, there was a clear reason for my suffering in those instances.

I had no frame of reference for whatever game Dante was playing with me now, and that scared me even more viscerally than his pursuit through the woods. I’d thought I had a chance of escaping him then. Now, I was bound and naked, completely at his mercy.

But he had none. I’d been right when I’d said he wasn’t capable of it. Looking into his glittering green eyes, all I saw was selfish desire and twisted triumph.

He liked my fear and my pain. This was what Luca had meant when he’d warned me that Dante was a sadist.

Luca. I longed for my husband to come and save me from this monster. It’d been nearly twenty-four hours since Dante had taken me from my father’s house. Surely, Luca would come for me soon.

But not soon enough. Not before Dante made me suffer for his pleasure.

Satisfied at my nakedness, he stepped away and crossed the room, approaching the horrific wall of torture implements. He tapped one long finger against his chin, rubbing it over the stubble that darkened his sharp jaw. Even in profile, he was heartbreakingly beautiful, a fallen angel with those high cheekbones and dark curls: the Devil himself.

He cocked his head, then reached for a whip with dozens of long, thick leather falls. I shuddered as he grasped the handle with something like reverence, his elegant fingers trailing over the polished wood. He turned his wrist, testing the weight and balance of the flogger. With a short, satisfied hum, he turned back to me.

Fear gripped my muscles tight, and the chains jangled as I twisted against my restraints. His full lips spread in a slow smile as he approached me, those vibrant eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“Please,” I begged, my rage smothered by terror. “You don’t have to hurt me.”

He touched the whip beneath my chin, lifting my face to his where he towered over my much smaller frame. “Oh, little bird. I know I don’t have to. I want to hurt you. And you scream so beautifully.” He leaned in close, brushing his cheek along mine so that he could whisper in my ear like a lover. “If you just let go and embrace the pain, I’ll help you fly.”