She was his and he was hers. They had under-the-skin privileges.

Option 1: Attempt to back out. Probable result: Death after painful torture. Option 2: Do the job and hope. Probable result: Death but probably no torture (good)

Pups think rules are suggestions.

Take her to the kitchen,” came the order. “If she lies, throw her in the cauldron." “He was jesting about the cauldron, wasn’t he? You cannot have a cauldron big enough for a person?” Bard halted, sighed, looked at her with those wide, liquid eyes.“We,” he said, “have knives.

He leaned a fraction closer. “My lovers have always been warrior women. Strength intrigues me.” She refused to let him play with her like this, even if her body disagreed. Vehemently. “Do knives intrigue you, too? Because touch me and I will cut you up. I don’t care if you throw me off the nearest balcony.

Dropping her hand, she turned in his arms. Then, rising up on tiptoe, she cupped his face in her palms and drew him down. Her kiss was innocent, vulnerable, a caress so gentle that it made him her slave between one breath and the next.

Do you have no sense of self-preservation?