Inever in a million years thought I’d be happy to be back in my Princess Leia outfit. But here I am. Appreciating the comfort of it. As well as how much Mabon is enjoying this.
He smeared the fey equivalent of baby oil all over me just before we left his rooms. And now he is striding along in front of me, holding my leash and gloating at all the attention I am getting. He looks so happy and so damn proud, that I can’t help relishing in it too.
Let them look. They can ogle, objectify, and covet. They’ll never get to touch. I belong to Mabon. No one else.
The two small braids in my hair should tell them that. I resist the urge to run my hand over them again. We are in public, I have an appearance to maintain. But as soon as I’m alone, I’m running to the nearest mirror to admire them again.
Mabon bitched about my short hair the whole time he was doing them and told me that my hair needs to grow faster. It was a wonderful moment. The two of us alone in the safety of his rooms.
I can’t wait to get back there, but this isn’t so bad. Mabon needs to be seen and needs to show that he is well and unharmed. To prove his absence was nothing more than a prolonged dirty weekend with his pet. And I don’t mind playing along. This is what I signed up for. The only way to stay by his side.
Mabon leads me into a cosy room. The heavy velvet curtains are drawn and the plush carpeted floor is scattered with large plump cushions. All arranged around a hookah pipe set in the middle of the room.
There is no one else in here. Mabon drops my leash and starts fussing with the hookah pipe.
“Sit there,” he says as he distractedly points to a particular cushion. A deep red one with gold tassels.
Smiling, I settle down and get comfortable. I like it when he is bossy. Probably a little too much. It’s likely that’s the reason it used to wind me up so much. It was poking holes in my denial.
A few moments later, Mabon joins me, sitting on a blue cushion that is slightly behind me, so I’m now at his feet. Now we look exactly like pet and master. But we know the truth, and that is the only thing I care about.
The door opens and Tristan walks in. His red hair is in two long braids and he has an enormous grin on his face.
“So good to see you home, brother dearest. I hope your flowermoon was invigorating.”
“Thank you,” Mabon replies sweetly as he brings a pipe to his mouth.
Tristan’s red eyes turn to me with a truly filthy look.
“Is your pet fully broken in now?”
“Yes,” says Mabon calmly.
I wince, even though it is true enough. I am hopelessly devoted to him now. Just not in the way Tristan is thinking.
The door opens again and this time it is Dyfri who walks in. Mabon quickly picks up my leash and wraps it around his wrist, where it coils among his many bracelets.
Sure enough, the first place Dyfri’s dark eyes go to is my chain. He gives nothing else away, and simply elegantly sits on a cushion. But I think Mabon restraining me has reassured him.
“Welcome home, brother,” is all he says.
I hope that one day Dyfri will not be unsettled by my presence. I’d like to earn his trust, but I suspect that is going to take time and is not something that can be rushed.
The brothers pick up their pipes and start smoking. The water in the hookah bubbles and the scent of the fragrant smoke fills the air.
“I take it Jamie is happy that you are back?” says Tristan.
Mabon shudders. “So many hugs.”
Tristan chuckles, but Dyfri frowns.
“Hugs aren’t so bad once you get used to them.”
Oh lord, bless his little heart. If he ever becomes comfortable enough with me, I’ll give him a ton of hugs. Heaven knows Dyfri deserves them.
“I suppose you’re right,” agrees Mabon, and he reaches out and pats me on the head.
I look quickly down before his brothers see my soppy, besotted grin. I still have zero clue why head pats feel so damn good, but I’m happy to roll with it.
