"You need me far more than I need you, I think." She'd added the barest hint of sugar, but after so long without, his throat rebelled, and he was forced to swallow it without gagging.
"Debatable."
"You threaten to send me back to Bedlam for the slightest infraction, but how long must I wait until a new Prime sits at the head of the Order? How long before the comet's appearance fulfils its prophecy?" He tossed the tea unceremoniously into the pot of the lime tree. The cat padded toward it, sniffing to see if it were something edible. "Who else can you use, Miss Martin?"
"And would a new Prime see you free of Bedlam?"
His smile told her more than words ever would. He could wait. She couldn't. Eyes narrowing, she crossed her arms. "What do you propose?"
"You need my assistance," he told her, "and I have promised to give it, but there is a difference between grudgingly helping, and doing everything within my means to assist. I can slow your quest to the point of incompetence if I choose, or I can complete it very quickly. I am very, very good at what I do when I choose to set my mind to a task."
"Go on." The slant of her eyes told him she was waiting for the axe to fall.
"I will give you my days," he said. "I will obey your every command whilst bonded and serve as your Shield. I will help you to the best of my ability, protect you, and do my best to see the relic swiftly found. But... my dear sorceress..." his voice lowered, "your nights are mine."
For a moment, she looked as if she didn't quite comprehend. Then her eyes widened, her full mouth parting in surprise. Color bloomed in her cheeks, pinks and reds, blending in to each another. "I beg your pardon?"
"You want my cooperation? Then that is my price."
"Getting you out of Bedlam is the price I paid. You swore you would come with me and obey my directives."
"I will obey," he said, leaning back in the chair, as he enjoyed the moment. "I will obey to the very letter of your statements. No more. No less. I'd suggest you choose your words very wisely."
He had her. He saw it in her shocked eyes, in the riot of colors that danced across her skin. Her composure was only skin deep; some hidden well of emotion threatened to spill over her, which made her game for his plans.
Concern for her lover, the Prime? Somehow he had the feeling concern would be a different color to what he read now. The greens, blues, and violent indigo that swirled around her were muted and draining. Fear perhaps, if he could put a color to an emotion. Weariness. Desperation.
Hot pink desire.
Lucien stilled, his cods drawing tight. Bloody hell. That was something he'd never expected.
Miss Martin took her seat opposite him. The silence stretched out between them, and she looked slightly shaken, a little tremor in her fingers, the rattle of the saucer as she jarred it... Taking a deep breath, she finally stilled, staring at the gold-rimmed porcelain of her cup before lifting her eyes to his. "Why?"
"Because I want you in my bed."
She sipped her tea in response. "After all that I have done to you, you wish me to believe this isn't motivated by revenge?"
"Partly."
Her eyes narrowed. "I won't allow you to hurt me."
"My dear..." He pushed the sugar bowl closer to her. "What makes you think I have any intentions of harming you?" All of the heat he was feeling filled his voice. "You might even enjoy it."
"Of course. How foolish of me. Why would I ever doubt your intentions?"
Lucien merely smiled. It was easier to converse with her than to deal with the rest of the world. Some of the overwhelming press of sensation went away, leaving him to deal with only one; the hardening of his cock. "Make no mistake. I intend to make good use of that sweet little body of yours. It won't all be kindness. Some of it will be the most delicate kind of cruelty."
Violet eyes blinked at him over the rim of her cup, as she choked down some more of her tea.
"But I promise you this." He leaned forward and caught her lace-gloved hand. "You will enjoy it. You might even beg me to be a little cruel."
Tea slopped down her wrist, and Miss Martin swore as she jerked her hand away and snatched up her napkin. Lucien went to his knees beside her, plucking the napkin from her hand and using it to soak up the tea stains on her skirts. Their eyes met as she put her cup down.
"So be it." A proud look tipped her chin high. "I can, and have, endured a great many small cruelties over the years. What is one more?"
"Perhaps you might get your case of inks then, to mark the runes on our skin for the bond?" A smile curled over his mouth. "Before we both run out of daylight..."
Where she would pay the price before he earned his service.
