“Tea—” she began, but Gabriel’s hand tightened around her throat.

“Think carefully before using that word before we even begin, pet.”

Celia swallowed the word. For a long moment, she simply breathed, taking in all the nuances of her predicament. And Gabriel allowed her to think things through. To rationalize both her fear and her willingness to please him.

And the opportunity to erase your nightmares, her inner voice counseled.

He knew the moment she surrendered, but Celia was not surprised by that fact. Gabriel knew everything about her and used it all to his advantage. He kissed her softly on the nape of her neck, then nipped her there while his fingers still gripped her just beneath her chin.

Celia gasped, the juncture of her thighs growing wetter.

“A bit of pleasure. A bit of pain. They are perfect complements to one another, and I will show you, Celia, how we can use that to erase your fears.” As he spoke, he leaned over and picked up the silk cravat from the bed. “I’m going to cover your eyes now. I want you to focus on breathing through every emotion you will undoubtedly experience. Focus on me, Celia, and be stronger than whatever it is you fear in the dark.”

He wound the cloth around her head, doubling it so that she could not possibly see through the fabric. By the time he knotted it at the back, she was panting from her panic and frozen with terror.

“Steady, little wife. Steady. I’m still here beside you,” Gabriel breathed, his hands moving down her sides as he pushed her more firmly against the bedpost. She instinctively held on to the carved column with her bound hands, fingers digging into the cool wood as though it were the edge of the world and she was in danger of tumbling over.

The next instant, thick, firm fingers swept up between her legs. Celia gasped from the shocking pleasure of Gabriel touching her where she needed it most. She’d not realized how starved she was for it, her legs moving apart of their own accord to allow him greater access. Indeed, it was easy to forget she could not see when he stroked the petals there in a gentle, rubbing motion.

“Yes, there, my darling. Feel my fingers dipping into your quim, spreading your wetness and making your hip buck for more.” Gabriel’s voice was harsher than before, but he continued the maddening strokes with the same gentleness. “Seven hells. You are so damned lovely like this. Helpless. Wanting. Gasping for me. Wet and needy for me. And so damn brave for me.” Sliding a finger inside her, he pumped it in a shallow motion that made Celia see stars behind the blindfold. His thumb teased her clitoris as he said, “Do you like this, pet? Do you like my fingers inside you? J’effacerai cette peur qui te tient en otage. Va te faire foutre.”

Even in her dazed state of pleasure, Celia made sense of his words.