Winter’s POV

The air in the room felt different against my back, like a physical presence. Cooler. More exposed. My hands trembled no matter how hard I tried to hide them as they found the hem of my shirt. I could feel his eyes on me like fire to meat; I was the one holding the whip, yet I was the one most terrified of what he might do to me.

He was watching me like a hawk, preparing to strike an unlucky fish, and my heart raced. I lifted my shirt, my movements stiff as a poorly made ...