His Indecent Revelations (Bound and Shackled to the Billionaire BDSM Erotic Romance) by Aphrodite Hunt Page A

him behind.
    Alia goes on, “Except that I was with child.”
    Now it is Channing’s turn to go pale.
    “Wh-what?”
    “My father spared my life because I was with child. Your child.”
    Dust motes swirl in the compressed air of the dungeon, moving this way and that. The hairs on Susan’s arms stand on end.
    “What happened to the child?” Channing has turned deathly still. It’s as though he has died a thousand deaths over the space of sheer moments.
    Alia maintains the same neutral tone that can be used to describe the weather. “He sent me away into the mountains to live with an Order of women who shun men. But before he banished me, he did this.”
    She removes her mask.
    If the horror had only been lurking under the surface before, it manifests full-blown in Susan now. She crams her knuckles into her mouth and bites down hard.
    It’s the only way to keep from screaming.

2
     
    Susan can’t help staring at Alia’s face – or at least the ghastly half of Alia’s face which has been revealed. It’s as though someone has taken a blowtorch and systematically carved onto it with the master precision of a homicidal maniac.
    What father can do this to his child? What human being can do this to anyone? No wonder Alia seems so broken, like a doll which whose mind has been shattered and can never be put back together again.
    Channing blanches. Susan can only imagine the thought streams running through his head. Does he experience guilt? Anger? Helplessness? Does he blame himself for letting her father do this to her?
    But he had no choice! He was a prisoner. He was forced into this.
    He had no choice.
    Yeah, she has to keep telling herself that. The man she loves is not the monster his brother paints him out to be. He can’t be. She loves him too much to let his past dictate what she wants to believe in.
    And yet, the nagging doubt persists.
    Did he do all that Hugh said he did?
    Channing’s features are extremely strained, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry he did this to you.”
    “No,” she says vehemently, “ you did this to me. My father told me what you did before you killed him.”
    Susan turns to Channing, mutely pleading. Please prove her wrong.
    He closes his eyes. “Yes, I did kill your father. But only because he would have killed us. It was a time of war. We were his prisoners.”
    “Liar! My father said he gave you a choice. My life for your freedom. You chose your freedom. Yours and that of your men!”
    Channing bows his head. He does not deny this.
    A crack splinters Susan’s heart.
    Now think this calmly through, the rational voice in her head says. Be objective, not emotional. If it had been you, what would you have done? What if you were given the choice of Channing’s life . . . or your own?
    The answer comes to her with brutal and blinding speed.
    I’ll die for Channing.
    The obviousness of her subconscious answer stuns even her.
    Channing says, “I killed him . . . when I heard you had been murdered. I could have walked away. But when he told me . . . something broke inside of me. And he didn’t let me go. I escaped.”
    The cold rage is startling in Alia’s tone. “You let him torture me. And you killed him. In spite of everything, he was my father.”
    Once again, Channing does not deny this.
    Suppressing the choke in her throat, Susan says hoarsely, “Please . . . Channing was a prisoner then. He had no choice.”
    “He had a choice. He made it. After he killed my father in cold blood, he took everything my father had. All the gold, money and jewels he and his men could find in the citadel before dousing it in flames.”
    Channing shakes his head. “We took only the gold. We did not burn anything down intentionally. The fire was an accident.”
    “An accident which you in no small part caused. You left your brother in there to perish as well. It was premeditated . . . your murder of all those you claimed you loved.”
    Channing closes his eyes. When he opens them, his fevered blue