In the meantime, I need to find something to do before I lose my mind. Despondently, I wander over to the window and plonk down on the padded window seat. It’s not a great view. The Mall is a fancy and famous road, and it leads up to the palace in all its wide, tree lined splendour. But this set of rooms are to the side, overlooking the trees, and trees at night is not the most scintillating view. At least I can see some city lights in the distance, and hear a faint hum of traffic. It’s strange to think London and freedom is on the other side of this pane of glass. It seems further away than that. Much further.
I wonder what Amanda and the rest of the Scoobies are up to? I strongly suspect that Amanda is yelling at everyone that they need to storm the palace to rescue me. The thought makes me smile. Hopefully, the other Scooby members have more sense.
Still, I wonder if they are out there in the dark, trying to scope the palace. I peer through the glass, but it is no good. I can’t see a thing.
This candle in the windowsill is making the night seem even darker than it is. Maybe if I moved it?
My hand wraps around the base, and then inspiration strikes. It’s pointless and stupid. But it’s not like I have anything else to do.
I put my hand between the flame and the darkness. Then I uncover it. Then cover it. The rhythm of Morse Code is soothing. My hand waves out a simple message. I’m alive. I’m well.
It’s accurate enough. I haven’t been tortured or interrogated. Mabon doesn’t even know I’m the leader of a Resistance cell. He just thinks I’m hot.
I continue to wave my hand up and down, repeating and signalling my message out into the empty night.
It’s a shame I have nothing more useful to communicate. I’m going to have to keep working on that front.
That’s if Mabon ever allows me out of these rooms again. He is clearly still rattled that I stumbled onto my discovery, and that is why he has left me behind. Even though he could gag me to ensure I don’t tell anyone. But I suppose that wouldn’t stop me from learning new things.
It irks me that he doesn’t trust me. Which is ridiculous, because he is right not to. It also irks me that he is out there alone. Where I can’t help him. And I’m irked that I’m irked. All in all, I’m being absurd.
Feeling protective of Mabon is bizarre. Where has this feeling come from? I know I have a strong sense of justice, always have. I mean, I joined the Resistance for flip’s sake.
But Mabon is my enemy. An invader. My captor. My sense of justice should make me hate and despise him. Not make me concerned for his well-being.
I shouldn’t care that he is terrified of that creepy duke guy. I’ve tried puzzling it out, but it’s impossible to figure out what is going on. I simply do not have enough information to go on. Whatever the root of Mabon’s secret, it’s irrelevant to the Resistance. I can’t see how I can use it to any advantage. So I should just forget it. It doesn’t matter.
“What are you doing?”
Mabon’s soft voice makes me all but levitate off the window seat. My heart is thundering and my lungs stuttering.
“Fucking hell!” I yelp.
He is standing right beside me. My hand snatches away from the candle. How long has he been standing here for?
“Nothing! I was just bored!” I answer hastily, as I turn my body towards him.
Mabon’s gorgeous eyes are slightly hazy. He has been smoking. Or drinking. Possibly both. Which is great. It might be the only reason he doesn’t seem suspicious at finding me sitting in a window seat waving my hand in front of a candle.
Instead, his lips puff up into a pout. “I’m hungry.”
I blink at him. Am I supposed to fetch food for him? I have no idea where the kitchen is.
His gaze drops down to my sheet covered groin and he licks his lips. Oh. He means horny, not hungry. Mabon is horny.
My mind repeats those three words on an echo. My libido stirs and awakens. Mabon is horny, and suddenly, just like that, so am I.
His agile fingers go to his slender waist. He pulls at something. A cascade of falling silk and now he is naked. Silver chains glint against the shimmer of his pale skin.
His cock looks engorged. Swollen and inflamed. I wince in sympathy. That can’t be comfortable. And he can’t do a thing about it for himself. That really sucks.
My hand is reaching for him, before the thought has crossed my mind. But suddenly, Mabon sinks to his knees.
“I want to taste you.”
Fireworks are exploding in my mind. I don’t understand why, or how, but this is the hottest moment of my life. I’m going to combust from the heat of it.
Is it because Mabon is a prince and he is kneeling for me? Is the power trip going to my head, and my cock?
