“It’s not me…” Selwyn pauses and starts again. “It is not me and my nature that scares you? You are like this with everyone?”
There is a strange, pleading look in his eyes. A desperate hope.
I lick my lips. I nod. “Yes,” I croak.
Selwyn closes his eyes. His shoulders sag as if he is immensely relieved. He turns and takes up his position on the chaise longue, returning to it with uncanny accuracy.
“Finish your art,” he declares regally. “I wish to see the finished piece.”
My pencil dances across the page again. The light in here is lovely. Selwyn is a fantastic subject. Drawing him is a joy.
My stomach feels strange, and I feel buoyed, almost bubbly. Selwyn is interested in my drawings. He is interested in me, even though I am incredibly boring. He is going to keep Mother away.
Is this what hope feels like? True, genuine, feasible hope?
I still don’t know why he was so upset in the stone circle. I may never know. But I think he has forgiven me. So maybe it is okay.
He seems willing to work at this marriage, as am I. And that is everything. Because if we both try, surely the end result won’t be too hideous?
I flash him a smile as I draw.
He startles as if struck, then a warm smile stretches across his face in return. My heart flutters in response.
Everything is going to be okay.
Chapter twenty
Thoughts are spinning and falling. Dream and reality are dancing together. My heart is pumping magic, and my skin is too tight.
Where am I? I think I’m in bed. I think it is before dawn. But I’m not sure of anything.
“Laurie, you are ripe.”
Selwyn’s voice sounds impossibly far away. It has sunk through layers and layers of tangled, swirling thoughts to reach my consciousness.
Oh. I am ripe.
My magic has swelled. My soul has gathered power and become bloated with it. I need to be emptied. Because I cannot wield magic. I can only hoard it.
I had no idea being ripe would feel like this. Before Selwyn tapped me and freed my magic on our wedding night, my power slept within me. Warm, fuzzy and content. I knew once it tasted freedom it would yearn for it. I didn’t know it was going to rage for it.
“I need to take your magic.”
Obviously. Although, to be fair, I think my body is thrashing on the sheets. It is probably perfectly clear that I am delirious. Speaking the obvious is reasonable. It likely seems necessary.
My body moves. It starts to roll over and offer my ass, but Selwyn’s hands stop me. They keep me pinned on my back.
“I like you like this, Little Lamb. I want to watch your pretty face.”
My body complies. My muscles relax and I stayed sprawled back against the sheets. I have already surrendered to him.
“Good boy.”
His fingers wrap around my cock. I yell, and my back arches off the bed. Where did my clothes go? Why is he touching me there? How am I so very hard? Nothing makes sense.
His hand relentlessly strokes. Tight and fast. Pleasure is blooming through me. Soothing and satisfying. Giving my essence what it is craving.
My hips lift up. I whine a wordless plea for more. He pushes down on my stomach and holds me in place, but he is merciful, and his hand pumps my length quicker and harder.
