The kiss of dark flames, his elite energy came alive in a rush. Licking at the edge of my senses. Tasting what no other might see, he groaned. Pressed deeper and drank me in, his fingers biting where they clenched too hard, he filled me with the reminder of what was nowhisto wield.
My power.
And then, “Well isn’t that something,” he murmured. Stepping back, he pushed a tangle of fine hairs back from my forehead. Standing too close, he laughed. “It’s not often that I find myself mistaken, let alone flat outwrong.”
Confused, I frowned. “Wh-what—”
A cruel smirk spread over straight, white teeth, and he released me from his influence. Gave me the power to fight when he tipped my chin back. Fingers growing tight where they were tangled at my nape. “You’re… tempted.”
A hard lump flapped behind my ribs. Confusion an impenetrable fog that coated my tongue.
“No, it’s okay. You don’t need to say anything, pet.” Rough hands framed my face, and he pressed close enough that his lips grazed mine. Not quite tender, it was a threat. “I can sense it,” he said. “What you need but can’t admit. Not yet.”
Heart beating in my throat, I shook my head. “I don’t—”
“But we don’t have time to indulge just now,” he drawled, thumbs dropping to trace the edge of my collar. Cupping both sides of my throat. “Appointments to keep.” He stepped back, and with a click of his fingers that shroud of alien energy fell upon me once more. “Come along.”
Teeth bared in helpless fury, I was made to follow when he turned. His influence a tight band that forced me to walk through the halls of his temporary, stolen home. A leash with no slack, keeping me half a pace behind him—where a proper slave might stand in wait.
He left me no option but to look where I could, seething. To breathe and obey, despite the way I lusted after the broad, exposed back displayed before me. Wishing for a lapse in judgement, where I might snatch up something heavy—a weapon,anythingthat could leave a dent in the back of that arrogant skull.
But his control didn’t waver.
Not for an instant.
Instead, he took me down a narrow set of stairs, guided me around a corner and passed an intimate, sparse kitchen. I blinked, watching from deep inside his shadow as he threw open the front door and filled my lungs with a gust of refreshing evening air. A soothing breeze that couldn’t ease the horror of my feet carrying me into the street at another’s command.
Yet despite everything, I was happy to be outdoors again, where the cool evening air washed away the stink of anxiety. The stress of being enthralled to an elite. Of being powerless in a game with rules I had not yet learned.
Pavement cold on my bare feet, I allowed myself a moment to pine for my durable tree bark boots. To wish for the luxury of choice, wondering if I’d ever make another for myself again.
Teeth grinding, I cleared my throat, and through a mask of false bravery asked, “Where are we going?”
He didn’t turn. Didn’t so much as bother to waste a glance in my direction. “Have I left you with the impression that there will be open discourse between us?”
“No, but I—”
“Then this is the perfect time for another lesson vital to your continued survival here. In the company of their betters, slaves will be seen, not heard.”
An incredulous bark of laughter burst from my lips. “Oh, my deepest, most sincereapologies!” I cried, tone rich with reckless, mock outrage—the only rebellion I could manage in my state of forced restraint. “I had no idea us lowly slaves aren’t meant to voice our opinions!”
“Keep it up, Mila,” he purred, lips crinkled at the edge. Promising all sorts of wickedness I had no way to defend against. No way to brace or prepare.
But for a moment, as I matched his challenge with a glare of my own, I wasn’t sure if I cared. Let him show me who he was. Let him feed the hatred that burned, starving for an outlet.
My stomach growled, the distant memory of stale bread echoing with a plea for temperance. To recover my strength if only so I might fight all the harder.
With a hitching breath, I lowered my head. Gaze catching on the uneven cobbles beneath my bare feet.
With a nod, the captain’s hand found purchase on my lower back. Calloused palm catching delicate silk, making it pull in such a way that drew sharp awareness to the spots where it grew tight and binding. Hips, ribs… my breasts.
“A slave should be seen, not heard, and speak only when spoken to,” he continued, voice a light, taunting rasp. “Understood?”
Teeth clenched, I grimaced at the dark and spat out a bitter, “Yes,” through the points of my modified canines—and felt the blunt scrape of his nails where they dragged across my skin. A warning that drew my gaze to his in a snap, where I found his attention already fixed to my face. One brow raised in wait. So, with a sneer, I tacked on a surly, “Sir,” that held no trace of the respect the designation might otherwise warrant.
It was enough.
“Your arrival here has caused quite a stir,” the captain murmured as we drew near a sprawling manse. Sweeping white stone and manicured gardens lined both sides of a grand entrance, the Eloran architecture nothing but an aching whisper of the people who had once lived in this fallen city. “General Tilcot has decided to throw a feast in my honor, but make no mistake. This is nothing more than a pretty trap, just waiting to snap shut.”
