6
Willow
Ireleased his mouth once we were both on the other side of my closed front door. I don’t need any gossip spreading about saying I can’t control my human. There are other fae in the building who would use that to undermine my already precarious position at Court. And if the rumor reached the Queen’s ears, I’d find myself summoned to Court to face her with the Ghost in tow before we were ready. Oh, she’d love that. She really would. It’s not going to happen if I can help it, though.
“Will you stop doing that?” he said. His voice was low and laced with enough venom that if he were a fae, I’d expect to see ichor dripping from his fangs. But he’s not a fae, and there’s no naga in his bloodline as far as I can tell, so it’s all just attitude.
“I did it to save both of our hides,” I informed him. The quicker he learned that the rules can mean life, death, and fates worse than that, the better.
“The rules?” he asked, his tone still scathing.
I nodded. “Everything with the fae is about the rules, and the rules dictate how the game is played.”
“Game? You think all this is a game?” he narrowed his eyes at me.
“It’s the way of the Unsidhe,” I said tiredly. “Everyone jockeys for the top positions within the Court or to put themselves where they are the favored of those who are. If I’d let you speak or look like you weren’t one hundred percent obedient, rumors would start flying that Willow, nephew to the Queen, is weak. So weak that he let a human he caught disrespect him. I’d get an even bigger target on my back as less politically advantaged fae begin making moves. So I had to show I was in control.”
Which I wouldn’t have had to if he’d been cooperative, but I let that hang in the air unsaid.
He ran his hand over his face. “Well, shit. Okay. My not jumping when you said to and not talking to you like the nobility you are could have made things messier than they are. I get that, I really do. That would make my job for you harder, as well, but you know, you could have taken the time to explain things a bit better first. While walking to get that flying carriage cab thing with the flying bugs, you could have said, “I’m the nephew of the Queen, and everyone is a potential enemy. I need you to act like a loyal servant until we reach my home.”
I could have, I suppose. But why should I have to? I had been polite enough. Not to mention that he still had the misfortune of thinking that we were somehow equals in this partnership, that the loyal servant thing would be an act.
I walked out of the foyer and into my living room, where stuffed armchairs covered in buttery soft leather looked out the picture windows at the city landscape below. I gestured to a seat, taking the other one. He eyed the chair warily as if fearing a trap. Good, he was learning. He still wasn’t quite getting it, though. He was mine, and I am his master. He’d signed himself away. My bringing him here, though, now that requires he sign himself over to me for eternity. Instead of indentured servitude with an end date, he would be one hundred percent mine until I died. That’s because I’ve already decided to tie his life span to mine. He won’t die unless I do, then. They could kill him and he’d simply resurrect unless they took his head. I’d never have to hire another assassin again. My status would elevate, making my position more secure as the knowledge that I had a private assassin spread. Not even the Queen had one as her preferred assassin from the guild had turned down her offer, and she never tried to make a bargain with another.
He sat down, not sparing so much as a glance at the pot of ivy on the table next to him.
“The thing is,” I said, “I don’t just need you to act like a loyal servant. I need you to be one.” I held my hand up as he leaned forward, a retort already on those luscious lips. Those lips will feel great around my cock, his stubble brushing deliciously against my thighs as he takes me deep. I made a gesture with the fingers of my other hand and the ivy shot out, the vines suddenly long and thick. They wrapped around him, tying him to the chair.
“What the ever-loving fuck?” he shouted at me.
This would have been so much easier if I just could have offered him a meal or even a cup of tea. That would have left him tied to this realm and to me the way I need. It would not have adjusted his attitude, though, nor guaranteed his strict obedience. He’s strong-willed and proud. I have to break him and then remake him. I needed to forge him in fire, to become the weapon I need. That I plan to also make him my lover? It’s lonely at the top, and there are no fae that I trust well enough to get naked and potentially vulnerable with. It’s a win/win situation for me, anyway.
“Easy. You want to know about the rules? To find out how to keep us both alive here?”
He snapped his mouth shut, his eyes hard, but gave me a curt nod of agreement.
“Good. You’re about to get those answers. To do that, and in a way that won’t take too long and still give you a thorough understanding of the rules and your position within Fae society, I have to open a portal and bring you somewhere that you may find alarming.” That was an understatement, but it really would be easier to open and hold a portal if he wasn’t raising a ruckus.
“Fine,” he bit out. It really was anything but, I could tell from his tone. No matter. He was going to stay put thanks to my vines and not shout as I drew the sigils. I reached into my pocket, taking out the piece of chalk I always carried there. I began to draw the runes and sigils upon the wall, leaving a clear circular space in the middle, one wide enough for him and the chair to be carried through. Once I was done, I held up both my hands and began murmuring the spell. The wall began to ripple and fade, leaving an opening into the reception room of the torturer’s guild. The desk sergeant there rose as he saw me.
“Lord Willow! To what do we owe the pleasure?” he purred.
“I’d like to book a room,” I said.
“By all means, my lord,” he replied, opening a book on the desk before him. “A single or a shared?”
“A single. One of your premium ones.”
“And for how long would you like it?”
I pursed my lips, thinking. “At least a week. If you gentlemen could just go and get him settled in, I’d appreciate it,” I said, gesturing to Ghost, placing the ivy and its pot onto his lap.
“But of course,” he answered, gesturing to several men behind him. Four of them came through the portal, picked up the chair Ghost was tied to, and carried him back through. They made it look easy, but then, this was something they did day in and day out.
“Hey!” Ghost shouted.
“Gag?” the desk sergeant asked, sounding hopeful.
