"Every day," he confirms. "Building your tolerance gradually, introducing new forms of magical interaction as your body adapts."
New forms of magical interaction. The phrase makes me curious and nervous at the same time.
"Thorian?" I stop walking, turning to face him in the corridor lined with flowering vines. "Thank you. For choosing me, forbelieving I'm capable of this. I know you could have selected someone more experienced, more qualified?—"
"Maya." His voice cuts off my self-deprecating spiral, and he steps close enough that his scent wraps around me. "You're here because you're exactly what this research needs. Not despite your qualifications, but because of them."
The conviction in his voice makes my chest tight with emotion I don't know how to handle.
"I won't let you down," I promise.
"I know you won't." His hand cups my cheek, thumb stroking across my skin in a touch that's tender and possessive. "You're going to be magnificent, little scientist."
The endearment makes me flush with pleasure and something deeper that I'm not ready to examine. When he pulls away and continues walking, I follow on unsteady legs, my body still humming from his touch.
That night, alone in my luxurious quarters, I replay every moment of our time together. The way he looked at me during the magical readings. The careful touches that seemed designed to awaken responses I've never felt before. The hunger in his eyes when he thought I wasn't looking.
Whatever this magical development involves, whatever changes it will make to my body and biology, I want it. I want to become whatever he needs me to be, wants me to be.
For the first time in my life, I've found someone who sees potential in me instead of inadequacy. Someone who chose me first instead of settling for me as a consolation prize.
Whatever the cost, it has to be worth it.
Even if I have no idea what that cost might be.
CHAPTER 8
THORIAN
I watchMaya sleep through the magical monitoring crystals I've placed throughout her quarters, my hands clenched on my desk as her scent reaches me even through stone walls and distance. Three days of sessions, and she's already responding to the magical conditioning faster than any candidate I've worked with.
Too fast, maybe.
Her virgin body adapts to fertility magic like she was born for it, eagerly accepting every bit of magical growth I introduce. Yesterday, when I guided power through her nervous system, she arched into the sensation with such innocent hunger that my cock went rock-hard instantly. I barely managed to keep it together while she gasped and trembled under my hands.
Eight centuries of experience, and this slip of a girl has me fighting for control like some untested boy.
The memorial garden gleams in the moonlight beyond my window—seven headstones marking seven failures. Seven women who trusted me completely before the transformation ate them alive. They were all Fae, stronger than any human, and they still died screaming.
Maya won't be stronger. She'll be more vulnerable, more breakable, more likely to shatter under the magical pressure that's already building in her untouched body.
But she's also more responsive. More eager. More perfectly made for exactly what I need her to become.
I palm myself through my clothes, remembering the way she looked at me today when I praised her progress. Pure gratitude, desperate hunger for approval, complete trust in my guidance. She has no clue what I'm preparing her for, what the magical work will demand from her body.
What it will probably cost her.
My prehensile cock stirs restlessly at the memory of her scent—clean virgin sweetness with undertones that make my ancient blood sing. When she's close to me, every instinct screams to pin her down and claim what's mine. Only eight centuries of discipline keep me from tearing those modest dresses off her body and showing her exactly what an alpha's hunger feels like.
Too soon. Too dangerous. She needs to be prepared slowly, or the claiming itself could kill her before the transformation even starts.
A soft knock breaks through my brooding. "Your Majesty?"
Lady Elvinia enters with her usual graceful silence, silver hair catching the lamplight. My court's fertility advisor, one of the few who remembers the old ways before the Sundering weakened our connection to human breeding stock.
"How's our candidate doing?" she asks, settling into the chair across from my desk.
"Faster than I expected." I gesture toward the monitoring crystals that show Maya's sleeping form. "Her magical sensitivity has tripled in three days. At this rate, she'll be ready for the next phase by week's end."
