But Ursula must have sensed her anger because she suddenly smiled and said, “Please.”
Most of Giselle’s anger melted at the sight of that smile. She decided not to withhold the promised gift. She would discipline Ursula later.
“Very well.”
She looked at the wall and focused her will. A dim, door-shaped outline formed in an instant, then quickly became more defined. She directed energy at the door and it began to move inward, revealing a wedge of darkness so black it seemed like a living thing, an unfathomable predator waiting with infinite patience to draw the unsuspecting into its sticky embrace. Giselle had a reflexive shudder of fear at the sight of it, but the sensation passed quickly. That strange dark energy was hers to command at will now. Once the door was fully open, she grasped one of Ursula’s hands and was unsurprised to find it cold and trembling.
Ursula let out a shuddery breath. “I don’t know if I want to go in there.”
Giselle chuckled. “Nonsense.”
Then she tightened her grasp on Ursula’s hand and led her into that deep darkness. Despite the reassurances, the girl clutched at her as they moved further into the room, a helpless, barely audible whine issuing from the back of her throat. She shrieked when the heavy stone door behind them slammed shut with an echoing boom.
Giselle decided to show a measure of mercy and released a small energy pulse. An array of candles and torches sparked to life, columns of flame driving back the oppressive darkness in places.
Ursula cupped a hand over her eyes and blinked against the sudden glare. Then she glimpsed the small form huddled in a corner of the suspended cage and grinned. She let go of Giselle and moved to a spot almost directly beneath the slowly swinging cage. Her mouth opened wide as she stared in rapt awe at the sight of her imprisoned rival’s nude-and only slightly bruised-body.
“So…beautiful.” Her voice was low and reverent. “I can’t believe she’s really mine.”
Giselle smiled.“Believe it. Nothing’s too good for you.”
Ursula abruptly came away from the cage and pulled Giselle into a rough embrace. “Thank you so much.” She kissed her hard on the mouth, then beamed at her again. “I love you for this.”
“You deserve it, Ursula.” Giselle smiled. “I would do almost anything for you.”
Ursula touched her face. “I know. You spoil me.”
Then she stepped out of the embrace and moved back to her previous position under the cage. Giselle felt a small pang at her departure, craved the return of that special warmth. A troubled look crossed her face. She had become one of the most powerful creatures on earth. Nothing should trouble her. She should be able to do as she pleased with impunity, with absolutely no concern for consequences. But she did worry about her deepening feelings for Ursula. In the immediate aftermath of killing Eddie, she’d believed herself to be cleansed of the capacity to feel things like love for other creatures. And in the beginning, she’d been able to believe that all she felt for Ursula was a simple animal lust.
Then a week passed and Ursula was still sharing her bed. A week after that it was apparent a real bond of some sort was forming between them, something beyond the obvious balance-of-power connection between Mistress and slave. And now, a full month after their first night together, they had progressed to a stage that could only be construed as romance. Given the way her heart seemed to swell against her chest wall every time Ursula so much as looked at her with a certain glint in her eyes, no other label for what was transpiring could be appropriate.
Yes, there could be little doubt now.
I’m falling in love with her, Giselle thought. How stupid.
Stupid because the very act of falling in love with a person carried with it an implicit vulnerability. It meant the other person in the relationship possessed the ability to hurt you more than any other person possibly could. The potential was there-albeit slight-for someone else to influence the girl against her. She was relatively certain that, despite being firmly under her thumb, every person in her employ was satisfied with their position here. One of the first things she’d done after assuming power was to identify potential troublemakers and purge them from the ranks. But it was just possible that someone who sought to avenge Ms. Wickman’s death remained, and Giselle would be a fool to assume such a person would not at least entertain the notion of recruiting Ursula as an assassin. She doubted very much that the girl could be swayed to an enemy’s side, given her newly exalted position, but one could not afford to be complacent about such things.
Ursula had retrieved a torch from one of the wall sconces and was raising it toward the unconscious form in the cage. The leading edge of the billowing flame licked at Gwendolyn’s body, and Giselle cringed at the memory of the acetylene torch applied to her mutilated flesh in the back of a limo. Gwendolyn awoke with a shriek and jumped away from the searing heat, making the thick metal chain that held the cage suspended above the floor groan as the cage swayed wildly. Ursula laughed and shifted position beneath the cage, raising the flame again. There was a faint sizzle of burning meat as Gwendolyn danced away from the flame and began to plead for mercy. Giselle felt a tiny flicker of sympathy. Not so long ago she’d been in the same position. Desperate, her spirit broken, her dignity gone.
An intense sense of déjà vu made Giselle want to leave the concealed dungeon at once. Ursula danced beneath the swaying cage, raising the torch again and again as she grinned and giggled at Gwendolyn’s tears and cries of pain. The delight she took in her adversary’s pain made Giselle think about vulnerability again.
The smart thing to do would be to eliminate the potential threat engendered by her feelings for Ursula. Kill her. Or cast her out to the slave city, which might be even worse for her. But even as she considered these ideas Giselle knew she would not harm her lover. There were other, less lethal precautions she could take. They weren’t as foolproof as death, granted, but they would be better than nothing.
“Ursula.”
“Yes, Mistress?”
Giselle kept her voice even and her face expression less as she said, “There are some things I must attend to. In the meantime, I’ll leave you to play with your toy. I’ll leave the door open in case you need to leave, okay?”
Ursula nodded.“Okay.” She smiled. “Thank you again. I can’t tell you how much this means to me. I…love you.”
Giselle’s heart raced. “I love you, too.”
Then she turned away from Urusla and strode out of the dark place. Back in her quarters, she hesitated a moment, considering whether she should simply close the door and seal Ursula inside forever.
But the girl’s words came floating back to her: I…love you.
And Giselle again was unsurprised to find she still lacked the will to implement an obvious solution to her dilemma. She would instead summon Schreck and have some simple restraints affixed to the big bed.
But something else caused her to delay summoning Schreck. It was the other thing that worried her and which she strove not to think about. An inexplicable thing. She approached the full-length oval mirror that stood next to her wardrobe and stared at her reflection for a long moment, her hands clasped tightly just below the sash. The pink bathrobe didn’t look good on her. She was meant for darker shades. But that, of course, wasn’t the thing that was bothering her.
She sighed. Oh, just do it!
She untied the sash with fingers that trembled slightly and pulled the front of the robe open. She stared for a moment at her full breasts and flat stomach, then she turned to her side and allowed the robe to slide down her arms to her elbows.
It was still there.
A month ago her back had been a smooth expanse of pure white. But now much of that flesh was covered with a large and intricate tattoo of a dragon. The same tattoo she’d seen on Ms. Wickman’s back. She’d seen it the morning after Ms. Wickman’s death, glimpsing it in a mirror after her bath. The sight of it, unexpected as it was, had almost stopped her heart then. And it still scared her. She had no idea what the tattoo’s appearance on her flesh might mean. It didn’t seem to be affecting her in any obvious way, but, as always, it wasn’t the obvious things that worried Giselle.