Table of Contents
The Alastair Affair, Book Three: Dani
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
The End.
THE END
News from Scarlett
The Alastair Affair, Book Three: Dani
A Dark Romance by
Scarlett Edwards
www.scarlettedwards.com
Copyright © 2015 Edwards Publishing, Ltd
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Cover design by Scarlett Edwards
First Edition: December 2015
Prologue
Present Day
At night Sylvain comes in.
With a warm washcloth he wipes the blood from my legs.
He does it in silence.
I dare not break it.
He lets me down, gently. The chains rattle as I’m lowered to the floor.
He catches me when I fall.
I hold onto him tightly, knowing him as my protector, my safety, my man.
Knowing him as my Master.
He drapes a blanket over my back. I clutch it to my chest.
“I have a present for you,” he whispers. “For being such a good girl.”
He kisses my ear. “But first,” he says, “we have to get you cleaned up.”
Chapter One
Three Months Earlier…
The sun shines brightly on the castle, making it look like something out of a fairy tale.
The woods surrounding it are lush and green. Moisture dots the leaves from last night’s rainfall.
Funny. I didn’t even notice it rain.
I’d signed the contract in the middle of the night and left it there. When I awoke?
It was gone
Sylvain must have come in and taken it. I’ve never been a heavy sleeper. But after my first exposure to the Black Tower, and him, I was out like the dead.
It helped that I had made my choice. I’d be his. For the next three months, I would be Sylvain’s not just as his employee, but as his...
Submissive.
A tingle of excitement runs through me at the thought. I don’t know where this will lead. I don’t know how far down the rabbit hole we’ll go. I don’t know what Sylvain will do to me, but I think—I hope—it will be good.
Even if it does come with pain. Especially when it comes with pain.
Deep down, I crave it. I crave to be his. I crave a man to take ownership of me.
It is my psyche’s darkest, most secretive desire. One that I could never admit to anyone, before… let alone myself.
Maybe that’s why I had so little interest in boys my own age my whole life. They wouldn’t know what to do with me. Hell, I didn’t know what to do with myself half the time.
But I think with Sylvain... I can learn.
He will teach me.
I walk to the castle. It feels like a beautiful new day.
As soon as I step inside I hear the piano playing. I smile. I love the music Sylvian creates.
The backs of my legs hurt from the whipping. The marks are red but not raw. When they heal, I don’t think they’ll leave scars.
In the middle of the entrance hall I stop and close my eyes. I float on the sound of the piano.
The music is peaceful. Melodic. And yet it’s timeless in its complexity.
I think it’s from one of the great composers. Which one, I am not sure.
After a while, I open my eyes and move on. My stomach growls in hunger. I barely ate yesterday.
I make a brief detour by the kitchen and grab a banana. I notice supplies are running low. I wonder when Sylvain will replenish them. Maybe I was meant to do that, when he hired me?
The soothing music plays on.
I take the stairs up slowly. I don’t feel out of place any more. In fact, weird as it may be, I feel more at home in the castle than in any other place I’ve ever been in my life.
The finality of the contract must have something to do with it. I’m not just an intruder, I’m not just passing by.
The castle is my home for the next three months.
I reach the room where Sylvain is playing. The piano faces the far window, so his back is to me.
He’s shirtless. I gasp when I see the angry, crisscrossing welts across his shoulders and spine.
I envision the pattern on the backs of my legs. Are my scars going to look like that?
No. Sylvain’s look like they were caused by a much deeper, much more painful lashing. Mine are child’s play in comparison.
He plays on, oblivious to my presence. His back muscles dance.
I cannot look away. His body moves with such graceful fluidity.
And suddenly, I find myself wishing very much that I knew more about the man. Who inflicted those marks on his skin? Why? How long ago?
What scars does he carry that aren’t visible?
Where did he learn to play? What other talents does he have? Who were his former lovers?
What is the story behind the missing village girl?
It seems like such a shame to disrupt him when he’s so clearly in his element. So, instead of saying anything, I walk to a corner armchair and sit down.
His eyes flash to me for the briefest moment.
Then he continues to play.
But that look... it’s enough to make my insides start churning all over again.
It was not predatory—but neither was it kind.
I try to shrug off my unease. There’s no confusion in our roles with each other. The uncertainty vanished the moment I signed his contract.
Now, the only uncertainty that remains is predicated by what he will do to me. What and when?
And of course, how.
But that uncertainty? It’s more like anxious excitement.
The music picks up. Now Sylvain’s hands are really flying over the keys. His eyes are closed and he is living the music.
The sounds that fill the room are beautiful… and the sight that greets my eyes is magnificent. I cannot look away from him or his hard body. His muscles tense and flex as he moves as one with the sound.
I want to lick him. I want to kiss every inch of his gloriously tanned skin. I want my hands to run over his every muscle. I want his body pressed against mine. I want to feel the heat of his flesh. I want to bask in the wonderful feeling of safety and security that only he can provide.
I blink.
Safety?
And yet yes, that’s exactly what it is. He might want to hurt me. But the pain is simply a proxy of his ownership. He inflicted it, he can take it away, he can make my body soar to unimaginable heights.
So yes. With him, I feel safe.
Well—safe from the outside world, that is.
Abruptly he stops. The last note he played hangs long in the air.
A heavy silence comes. His breathing is hard.
Then he stands, still no
t looking at me, and picks up his shirt from the bench. He throws it over his shoulders and slides his arms through.
He buttons up facing away from me.
When he’s done, he runs a hand through his dark mane. I love his hair, I realize in a moment of sudden introspection. It lends an artistic quality to Sylvain that would be missing otherwise.
He turns to me. His eyes are storming.
Without a word he begins his approach.
All my calm vanishes the instant his attention turns to me. It’s fine and dandy to consider myself assured when I’m reflecting on my relationship with him. It’s quite another to feel assured when his focus shifts to me.
He stops half a foot away. I have to crane my neck up to meet his gaze.
“Hello, Dani,” he murmurs.
“Hello, Sir,” I breathe.
He clicks his tongue. “We are not in the Black Tower, Ms. Middleton.” He goes to his knees. His hands land on my legs. “And I do not like ‘sir’. It brings about…” he tilts his head from side to side, eyes focusing on the spot between my legs, “…certain associations. Associations I’d rather avoid.”
I think of the marks on his back. “Okay,” I say softly.
“You may call me only three things,” he says. He puts up three fingers and counts them off. “Sylvain. Alastair. Or Master.” Slowly, his eyes move up to mine. “Do you understand?”
Such heat sears in his gaze that I have to swallow. My nipples harden instantly from that look of lust.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He lowers his head to my thigh. He rubs one cheek against it.
Goose bumps explode all over my skin.
“I want to reward you,” he murmurs. He turns his head and kisses my skin. “For being so firm in your decision last night. I did not expect you to sign the contract this early. Of course…” he offers a lazy smile, “…I had no doubt that you would, eventually. Just not this soon. Do you know what that grants us, Ms. Middleton?”
“No,” I breathe.
“Time,” he emphasizes. “We now have more time. Time enough to do… this.”
He grabs my hips and yanks me forward. I slide down and yelp in surprise. He makes a little sound of appreciation then lifts my skirt.
He pulls my panties aside. His fingers touch over my folds. He starts to rub.
I close my eyes and moan at the sudden rush of pleasure.
“You like that, hmm?” he notes. He starts to stroke.
“Oh yes,” I purr.
“Good.” One of his fingers slips inside. I give a shuddery gasp. “Very good, Dani. Do you remember your responsibility to me?”
“Yes,” I breathe. Cascades of pleasure run through my body.
“What is it?” he asks.
Two fingers come in. I love the stretch.
“I am… I am…”
“Yes,” he growls. He works me faster. I can feel the intensity of his gaze. “Yes, tell me what you are to do.”
“I’m… I’m to come for you!” I exclaim, just as the third wave of pleasure hits.
“That’s right,” he growls. “Will you do it, Dani? Will you do it for me, now?”
“I…yes!” I cry, right as the wave morphs into a blistering orgasm. “Yes, yes, yes! Oh yes!”
“More,” Sylvain commands. His fingers are coaxing every last bit of pleasure from me. “More, Dani! Come hard, come fast, come now!”
And then the real explosion comes. It takes over as I soar sky-high. My body shakes. For a moment my mind disengages from reality.
All I know is pleasure. All I have is ecstasy. I am a sensual being, someone far removed from that young, naïve girl on the armchair. I am me, as I am meant to be, as I have never been before.
My mind blanks. Continuous waves of pleasure wash through me. My eyes roll back, and I can’t even see.
All I know are the sensations taking over my body, originating from the skilled fingers of this man.
Then slowly, the high ebbs away. I’m left gasping, exhausted, astounded.
Sylvain brings his fingers to his own lips. We make direct eye contact.
He licks them off.
“You taste delicious,” he says. “I can’t wait to taste your pussy with my tongue for the first time. But that—” he pushes off, and stands, “—is a privilege that must be earned.”
He starts to walk away.
“And we are neither of us there yet.”
Chapter Two
It takes me a long time to recover.
What happened… I was not expecting that. Not in a million years. Not this soon.
I came so hard…
I shiver. Sylvain made it seem easy.
Maybe with him, it is.
Never has it been easy before.
I remember Min teasing me one time second year that I had dated a guy for nine months, and he hadn’t made me come. She called him a warm potato. Comfortable and effortless to dine upon for supper, but oh-so-plain, and never, ever exciting.
I laughed it off. I told her I was just taking my time.
Truth is, I did try.
But I never felt the sort of connection with him as I do with Sylvain.
I take a sharp breath and sit upright. Connection? Could it be?
Am I really talking about a connection with a man I’ve known for less than a week?
But time doesn’t seem to matter here. The castle stands outside of it. Sylvain already knows my body. He knows what it yearns for.
He knows what I crave.
Is it luck? Fluke? Experience?
I still know next to nothing about him.
Yes I’m confident he’s done this before. Many times before.
An ugly pang of jealousy twists my stomach in a knot. How many times? I wonder. When was the last?
I shake my head to dismiss the thought. I have no right feeling possessive over him. Jealousy never leads to anything good.
But dear lord. Just now, he made me feel things I never knew were possible.
Complete, all-consuming pleasure. But it is exactly what he did, and it’s the damn truth: Sylvain’s fingers elicited a reaction in me I’ve never had before.
Back in college? After I broke up with the guy—Min caught him cheating at a party—I never felt confident enough to give myself to another man. Not fully.
That’s when I bought my first vibrator and made myself come. Sad, but true. I wanted to know what it was like.
Since then, I’ve saved it for special occasions. Pathetic, I know. But it became my reward for accomplishing things.
Got the grades I wanted on my end-of-year report? Orgasm. Made it through one more full year without harming myself? Orgasm.
Oh. Right. That was a serious issue: I was a cutter.
I rub a finger over my left forearm. The lines are faded now. They’re so faint you’d never be able to pick them out unless you knew to look for them.
That habit started at the end of grade school. When I found out my mom had thyroid cancer. The doctors caught it quick, and she made a full recovery, but the scars it left on me still remain.
The shock of realizing your mother might die, as a thirteen-year-old? To say I dealt with it badly would be a grave understatement.
The problem’s plagued me off and on since. When I entered university, I vowed to put an end to it.
I’d done a pretty good job.
Min’s the only person I ever trusted enough to admit it to. Actually, that was the start of our real friendship—when I realized she had my back, no matter what.
Since then, we’ve become like sisters. We always look out for one another. No matter what.
I wonder what she would say if I told her the things I’m doing with Sylvain.
Well. Time enough for that later.
First I have to figure out myself what it is we’re doing.
**
I expect to see him in his study, but he’s not there. I check his bedroom, which is unlocked.
It’s empty as well.<
br />
Strange, I think. Where else could he be?
Then again, the castle is enormous. He could be in any of the cavernous rooms.
The doors that were locked my first day are all still fastened. I wander through the halls, keeping my ears open for the faintest noise. I don’t want to call out for Sylvain. Don’t know why, it just doesn’t seem proper.
There’s a certain gravity to these walls that would make my voice sound frivolous, I think.
So after half an hour of fruitless searching, I start to get really annoyed. I want to see him. We have to talk. I have to figure out what his expectations of me are. Not just as his submissive, but as his employee, too.
I still need the money from the job.
But the castle really does seem deserted. Sylvain made me come and he left.
That pisses me off.
I decide to go out to the guesthouse and try calling Min. I won’t reveal anything to her—I clearly remember Sylvain’s position on privacy—but it’ll be good to hear her voice.
At the very least, by talking to her, I’ll know I haven’t accidently descended into madness and am imagining this whole thing.
But on the way out, I notice a single door in the entrance hall is ajar. It’s never been open before. I must have overlooked it my first time here.
Curious, I walk up to it. I pull it open.
A set of dark stairs lead down.
A little thrill of excitement shoots through me. This is what I was originally here to do. I wanted to explore every nook and cranny of the place.
I step in. The stairs curl down. There’s a very, very faint light coming from behind the bend.
I put one hand out against the inner wall and begin my descent.
The stairwell goes much deeper into the earth than I first thought. The light gets a little stronger. As I close in on the end, I hear the sound of splashing water.
Intrigued, I hurry down.
I come into the cellar. It’s huge. Ancient wooden barrels line the walls. They look like the sort that’d be filled with wine. And in the middle, there’s a… pool. A pool under a castle.
Sylvain’s in there, swimming laps.
Huh. So that’s why he has such a stunning body.
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