I’m being escorted swiftly through this strange new world by several guards. My wide eyes and slack jaw are not an act. My new persona and my true self are in full accord.
We pass walls of moss, streams that babble down hallways. Stars that hang next to chandeliers, and shadows that seem to breathe. Prince Llywelyn has vanished and left me in the care of his intimidating guards.
My mind is reeling. Everything is happening far too fast. My brain cells are trying to stick to training and absorb and record every detail, but it is too much. It’s all too strange and new.
Doors burst open, and all of a sudden I’m in a bathroom. One that reminds me of a Turkish Bath. Every surface is tiled in verdant green and glittering gold. The centre of the large room is a huge sunken pool. A hot tub of sorts, one that could easily fit twenty people.
At the far end of the room, three long arched windows let in muted light through gauzy white curtains. The windows reach the floor and could also be doorways. Something about them is giving me the rather unsettling feeling that if I were to walk through them, I would no longer be on Earth.
I shiver and snatch my attention away, just in time to see a stout, leather clad woman approaching me. She barks something at theguards, and before I can blink, my arms are seized in grips of steel and I’m bent over a low table, my face smashed sideways into the wood.
The woman begins chanting. She pinches my earlobe and I wince. I know what is coming. She is going to pierce my ear with a large silver needle. Over and over again. Sewing a rune into my flesh. One that will enable me to understand the Fey language.
The pain, when it comes, is sharp and biting. I hiss and scrunch my eyes up tight. I’ve been trained on how to withstand as much torture as possible. But right now I’m not Ethan the Special Agent. I’m Ethan, the ordinary man. Nobody save for Prince Llywelyn knows otherwise, and it has to stay that way.
The enchantress works swiftly. She finishes mutilating one ear, then the guards lift my head up, turn it to the other side and slam my freshly, numerously pierced ear onto the table. I let out a yowl of pain. The noise is barely past my lips when she starts sewing into my other ear.
I give a token struggle. Not enough to earn me a slap, but just enough to seem like a civilian panicking.
Suddenly, I’m yanked upright. Quick enough to make my head spin. The fey woman roughly checks her work. Then she grunts in apparent approval.
“Strip him,” she snaps.
I jolt. I knew they were going to give me a bath, but I’d assumed I’d be told to undress myself. But they haven’t even given me a chance to show willing.
I close my eyes and stand still as hands tear my clothes off. I hear the yoga pants rip and then feel a breeze on my exposed genitals.
The guards shift their bodyweight and I instinctively tense. It is hard to stay still and allow it to happen. I grind my teeth as I am thrown bodily into the air. I allow my limbs to cartwheel before I hit the hot water of the bath and sink like a stone.
Fucking hell. These bastards are really starting to piss me off. And where the fuck is Llywelyn? He should be overseeing thisand ensuring I’m treated with a little more dignity than usual. We are going to be working together, and I’m here to help the snide asshole.
I rise up from the steaming water, coughing and sputtering. And now, as if conjured by my thoughts, the prince is standing by the edge of the pool as if he has always been there.
The woman beckons me out of the water, and I stride up to my captors obediently. It is so damn tempting to shake water all over them, but I resist.
Llywelyn’s golden eyes sweep over me. His perfectly shaped nose wrinkles in disgust.
“I don’t like the body hair,” he grimaces.
It is so hard not to glare at the little shit, but I just about manage to keep my wide-eyed look of fear plastered on my face.
The female fey walks over to a set of shelves set in a curved alcove. She selects a brown earthenware jar. I eye it with trepidation as she glides up to me.
The guards hold me still as she scoops lavender coloured gloop out of the jar and smears it over my chest. My arms are lifted up and my armpits covered with the cold, sweet smelling cream. Next it is my legs.
Then I’m yanked down and bent over while she stands behind me and applies the substance to my balls and around the base of my cock, and then my ass crack. I suck in a shuddering breath. Her touch is impersonal, almost clinical, but I still don’t appreciate it.
The guards release me, and I straighten up. I watch as she calmly wipes her hands off with a cloth and returns the jar to the shelf. While her back is turned, I shoot a glare at Llywelyn. What the fuck is he playing at? There was no need to have me covered in hair removal cream. At least, I’m assuming that’s what this gloop is.
As soon as we are alone, I am putting this obnoxious princeling in his place. I am not his slave. We are colleagues. And colleagues do not go around ordering non-consensual butt waxes.
Golden eyes return my glare evenly. I haven’t even ruffled him. He is not even the least bit concerned about the repercussions.
The little shit.
My eyes narrow, but suddenly, all my thoughts are derailed by a strange tingling sensation on my chest. The peculiar feeling grows and spreads. Now everywhere that is covered in the gloop is starting to burn.
Oh god. It is really, really burning. I’m on fire and my skin is peeling off layer by agonising layer. I scramble towards the bath, but the guards thwart me. They grab my arms and hold me still while I burn.
