She blinked, astonished that she could hear truth in his tone, mesmerized by the way the rope moved through his palm. Sensual. As if part of him. She watched him breathe in and out as he ran the rope through his hand again and again. She could watch him all day and never get enough. It was shocking how much she wanted him.
Ricco took a moment to just look at her, to breathe her in as he folded the rope in two, resting the center point in his palm. She was unexpectedly gorgeous. A treasure beyond any price. She was nervous, but excited, giving him the greatest offering he could ask for – her trust. She was a shadow rider. A woman meting out justice, always in control. She was giving that control over to him.
Mariko didn't realize the incredible gift she was giving him. He'd watched her. Her reflexes were extremely fast. She was in not just good physical condition but superb condition. A rider needed control always. If she had come there to kill him, as he suspected, allowing him to tie her up was the last thing she should do, yet she was giving him her complete trust. Making herself vulnerable to him. Only to him.
She was a woman any man would be lucky to have, but he knew she belonged to him. He hoped he could get her to feel the same way. He would be asking a lot, to have her accept him as he was – with all the dark places inside of him. Her courage humbled him. The immense trust it took to allow herself to be tied by him, even in the name of art, was astonishing for a woman like her.
It was a true power exchange between them and he loved that. Even craved it. He needed a woman strong enough to accept that he would always need his ropes. They anchored him. Centered him. The moment he touched them, those dark shifting shadows inside him subsided.
He had been careful not to spook her. Right now, with their shadows connected, he could feel her slipping through his fingers. She had fight-or-flight syndrome in full force and he had to make every single moment with her count. He'd risked touching her to get a feel for her breathing. He needed to know in order to minimize the risk to her for potential trouble when he laid the ropes on her skin. He was very careful in his tying, always making certain his model was comfortable and safe, and now, having found Mariko, it was doubly important to him.
He wanted to be further along with her, in a place where he could see her naked body, where she'd give him that as well. Already he could see patterns on her, so many he wanted to try with her, his greatest model, the only one he'd ever have now. He wanted to spend every moment with her.
He used a stalking motion coming to her. Something he couldn't help. This was his world, and she was his woman, his prey. He was going to seduce her into being just that for all time. He would do so with his ropes. His art. With the sheer force of his will. He would court her gently outside this room and teach her about her own body and that desire could be satisfied in many ways.
He had learned to kill and then he had killed. Many times. Fourteen was far too young for his artistic mind to accept the violence and he'd been fortunate that he'd met his teacher, a rope master of more than forty years. The art had saved his sanity and his life. He needed it like others needed air.
Deliberately moving into the light, so that his shadow connected with hers, he watched her body shiver with awareness as heat and need rushed over him and into her. She was drowning in desire. His? Hers? Their combined desire? He watched her skin flush and knew she felt the way he did. She was very sensitive to him. Open to him. With each line of rope, each pattern he created, he would wrap himself around her, adorning her body with – him.
Mariko couldn't take her eyes from Ricco as he approached her, the green rope moving subtly, but powerfully, with his body. She didn't want to panic, but she'd never been so aroused by or aware of a man as she was Ricco. His hands guided her, gently but firmly, in front of a full-length mirror. She didn't want to look at herself. He was so gorgeous and she was just … Mariko.
He touched the rope to her face, sliding it along her cheek like a caress so she knew he was once again going to use silk on her. For some reason the silken ropes felt intimate, an extension of him. When he touched her with them, even just to slide the coils over her skin, it felt like sex and sin all wrapped up with his scent and his sheer will.
Very gently he pulled both arms behind her, and she felt the ties. Her heart hammered in her chest at the swiftness of his movement, the casualness, as if he'd done it a million times and there was no effort on his part. Just that quick he deprived her of two of her weapons.