I force myself to focus on my magic. Imagining a large door sealing itself shut, I dress it with the intention of shielding my mind from him. Checking every brick, solidifying any nook or cranny with steel and granite.
Then I double-check to see if I’ve done a good enough job.
Satisfied, I turn my attention to him.
He still chills by the fire, no worry on his shoulders, amusement plastered on his too-perfect face. A hand-embroidered bag lies on the ground to his left, but I don’t see any weapons. The most eye-catching is the way his unfastened shirt presents an utterly mouth-watering chest. I wonder what it would feel like to taste his skin, to run my tongue up from his groin. I want to taste the salt on that sparkling chest of his.
He winks. “You are exquisite yourself.”
“What?” Right. The shield didn’t work.
Fuck me.
My agitation growing, I focus again; the doors of my mind are, in fact, sealed. Good. I flex my mental muscles, but the intruder’s presence remains; strange, ancient, wild, and animalistic. Deliciously slithering.
“Oh darling, you have no idea how good you are for one’s self-esteem.” He says it aloud, his voice permeating the space like my favourite perfume. It’s clear he can hear my thoughts.
Swallowing my rising embarrassment, which seems to be a baseline around him, I try again, going through the motion of focusing, sealing and checking.
He is still a loud, invading presence in my mind.
What the actual crap?
“What was the deal?” I ask, invoking the right.
By Fae law, he is obliged to share the terms of the contract. He must tell me the exchange.
“For aid in defeating the poison from the Arametis vines, Seleste Berigander binds herself to the stunning Aidon Draconis,” he says, emphasising ‘stunning’ with that sly grin I’ve come to memorise in this short time.
His lustful gaze pins me, waiting for my reaction.
My chest tightens. Anxiety radiates through my bones.
“Don’t feel bad,” he mockingly comforts. “I can access anyone’s thoughts, but you don’t have the means to block me because of the bargain.”
It’s going to be tougher to break free from this than I originally believed.
Fuck.
Frustrated, I rest my weight on my elbows. I direct my gaze to the sky, a black canvas where trillions of stars decorate the night, and flinch when my ears catch the barely noticeable traces of tambourines.
Jestin and his terrible timing. Where was he when I was accepting the bargain? I prefer not to see him, and I am powerless against the upcoming events. Whatever they are.
It would be seen as cowardly to flee now when his scouts have already spotted me. The Hermitage warriors are an elite force of sand-wielders, trained to move unnoticed across the desert when there is nowhere to hide. If I could, I’d send the entire royal army to learn from them.
Jestin will either tear into me or stand there grinning because I need his help after my infamous disappearance.
For the love of Gorok, I can’t decide which is worse.
I sigh inwardly and sit up straight. Let’s focus on one problem at a time. Who is this stranger who holds my fate in his ridiculously attractive hands?
Oh my, his hands are so... the veins… I cannot look at them without imagining them somewhere else. Everywhere else.
He raises a brow but allows my monologue to continue. Judging by his wild, ancient presence, seductive pheromones, and the mind invasion, he is probably an incubus. Or a shapeshifter.
It’s becoming quite the entanglement.
“Any terms?” I finally ask.
