“What are you talking about?” I questioned her. I hadn’t done anything dangerous.She’sthe one who sent the Academy guard after me to force me to use my magic, andtonightshe was the one who refused to let me help people who needed it.
“I haven’t done anything that could harm anyone—unlike you.”
“Backtalking and taking such a tone to question me is part of the problem,” she growled low—a warning. “At the Academy, you were so upset, instead of trusting me and speaking with me in private, you almost announced our soul match. Which would have put you—and me—in terrible danger.
Tonight, in front of one of Ardens councillors, you questioned me disrespectfully. Addressed me like a peer, refused to follow instructions and attempted to make demands of me.”
I felt her breath, harsh and warm, against the back of my neck—a shiver down my spine,
“You clearly have no idea the issue thatmypet, behaving in such a way—like it had sway and influence over me, whether true or not—could create.”
Her hands landed on the wall either side of me, caging me in.
“If others thought I bent to your whim, it would result in challenges to my authority—and danger—as others tried to use you, both directly and indirectly, to influence me or force my hand,” Selene explained angrily, another hot puff of air against the back of my neck—and the slightest brush lips.
“You need discipline. And I require respect and trust,” she said accusatorily, like I didn’t trust her.
“I do respect and trust you,” I told her, feeling small—and trying not to become aroused by her presence, powerful and all around me.
She laughed, mockingly.
“Your actions show that you clearly do not,” she challenged.
I went to reply but stopped. Was she right?
I was upset in both situations that she used as examples—but that didn’t mean I didn’t respect and trust her.
I did.
But… but if I did, I should have shown her. Should have let her explain herself in private. I shouldn’t have lashed out verbally.
I hung my head. Shame made me feel ill.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“I know you will be shortly,” she replied, her tone softer—so soft I almost missed the threat in her words.
“Now we have acknowledged the problem, we can take steps to rectifying it,” she told me.
“How?” I asked, licking my lips, nerves wriggling in my tummy.
“What I expect of you is simple, Pet—behave.”
She hissed the word.
“Address me formally when company and the situation calls for it. Do not question me publically. Do not make demands of me.
And in return, I will provide you with structure, guidance, and punishment to correct behaviour that may lead to harm for yourself.”
“Punishment?” I asked, nervousness building greater within me.
“Yes. Let’s discuss what happened tonight and decide upon a suitable lesson together,” she suggested, so calmly, like we weren’t discussing punishments, a topic that simultaneously made me feel nervous, fearful, small, and a little humiliated.
“I was upset,” I started.
“Do you understand what you did wrong tonight?” she asked.
“Yes,” I nodded, “I was rude, insulting even. I wanted my way,” I confessed. I had wanted my way like a spoiled brat, unable to see or uncaring to consider any reason why I shouldn’t have been allowed what I wanted.
