His hand on the back on my neck tightened, almost like he knew my mind wasn’t on him. A reminder to stay focused.
But a quick look at his screen told me it wasn’t anything I’d done.
Apparently, there’d been some anti-vampire attacks at Sanguiel’s shrine in Fenmoor in retaliation for Victor’s treatment of Accalia, as well as some hexes against his Magik by witches for disrespecting his mate bond with me.
He was reading a statement written for him by the Communications Director condemning the violence.
“… These actions, carried out in apparent retaliation against my personal relationships, are an unacceptable escalation of violence that threatens the fragile balance among the city-states…”
I knew what I was supposed to do, even if I didn’t want to.
I am aligned. My instincts follow.
I leaned towards him, offering my wrist, which Victor took wordlessly, sinking his fangs through the thin skin and taking a long pull. The pain was soon dulled by pleasure and lethargy, which caused me to lean into him further, my face resting on his arm.
With a small lick, he sealed the wound, gently massaging my neck.
“Thank you, darling. You knew just what I needed.”
After a few changes, he sent the statement back and then patted his knee expectantly.
Again, I knew what I was supposed to do, even if I didn’t want to.
I am aligned. My instincts follow.
I sat on his lap, and his arms wrapped around me, purring as he tucked my head under his chin.
“This is how it was always supposed to be,” he said. “My mate, by my side.”
Doing nothing. A doll. A prop. A bite-and-fuck toy.
Well, at least there was still no fucking. I wasn’t sure all the conditioning in the world could get me back to a place where I’d enjoy sleeping with Victor. Before Ronan, I had accepted the escape. My only outlet to feel something other than constant misery.
After Ronan, though…
I could fake this. Cuddling, touching, submission. I could learn to do this without flinching.
But Victor wanted me present in bed, for as much as he wanted me vacant in everything else.
“What would you like to eat for dinner?” he asked.
The alien responds, another series of clicks and hisses. The tone is placating, but you know nothing about this species. What do you do?
I paused, wondering if this was some sort of trick. Victor had never, ever, given me a choice before. Not like this.
I reroute auxiliary power to the linguistics array and let the ship’s computer run predictive pattern matching again.
Threat assessment: Medium
Emotional tone: Pacifying
Intent: Questionable
I assume this is a trap, and begin powering up the shields. But SOLIS—Safety of Life in Space—Laws dictate we must help those in need. We will lead with peace first.
“Anything is fine. You know best, alpha.”
“Do you require assistance?” I ask.
