Without a word, Diana and Iris moved with the grim coordination of two women disposing of refuse. They each seized one of Theo's arms, dragging his limp body across the cold stone floor.
His heels scraped against the masonry with a dull, rhythmic thud as they hauled him toward the guest room, not to return him to his quarters, but to bring him to the very heart of his nightmare.
The door creaked open, revealing a room bathed in the warm, amber glow of candlelight and the intoxicating musk of sweat and arousal.
When consciousness finally clawed its way back into Theo's mind, it came not as a gentle awakening but as a violent assault on his senses.
His head throbbed with the rhythm of a sledgehammer, but the pain was secondary to the shock that seized his entire body. He tried to bolt upright, but his limbs refused to obey.
