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The sponge floats up, and the female comes with a tiny parting of her lips. A barely audible gasp, at which point three portals spurt into existence in the room. They’re as unstable as they come, sparkling with light, then burning out quickly like baby elven fireworks. As such, they’re gone as quickly as they appeared, leaving their maker panting in the tub, still looking at the ceiling.
She lifts her head, her green eyes ablaze.
I approach the tub and drop to one knee, my elbow resting on the edge of the tub.
Instantly, she sits up.
I caress her heated cheek. “The next time you pull something like this, I will have you bruising your knees on the rug, with my shaft so far down your throat, it will induce tears as you beg me to allow you to take even a single breath. But the only way I’ll let you breathe is if I force you on your belly and penetrate you. So think long and hard about daring me. Now, put your fingers in my mouth so I can taste your pussy.”
She appears shocked, her body frozen in the moment.
“Now!” I bark and open my mouth.
She tucks her fingers into my mouth, and I suck them, tasting cherries.
That beast inside me I’ve kept at bay for too many decades to count roars to life. Once she rises, I spank her three times, because if I don’t, I’ll fuck her silly. “Clothes are in the trunk,” I say in her ear. “Get dressed and meet me outside the chamber.”
13
CHLOE
Outside, the full moon illuminates clear, starlit skies.
Under its energies during the spring season, I’ve gone crazy, becoming irrational, and going into heat right in front of the most ineligible bachelor in all the lands. In the fever of the moment, I thought he would touch me, relieve the painful churning in my belly, and make me forget I must soon face my grave situation.
It doesn’t help that I think he’s fighting his attraction to me. I mean, his scent doesn’t lie. He’s turned on. It’s just that it’s possible he’s turned on only because he’s denied himself for longer than I’ve existed and not because he likes me. Since our people aren’t known for suppressing our urges, the commander’s celibacy is legendary.
“While you dress,” he says from outside my cell, voice deep and commanding, “consider giving me control of your magic.”
“You can do that?” I step out of the tub and hug myself, looking around for a towel.
The trunk pops open, and a blue towel unfolds itself. While I wrap it around my body, another towel, this one yellow, wraps around my hair and starts fluffing it while the clothes rise from the trunk. The clothes, much like soldiers, line themselves up in front of me.
Sweeping noises from behind me make me turn. The mess of dust and rocks from when I broke into the cell start grouping into a row and moving outside. The commander is restoring order, even rebuilding the hole in the wall.
He’d asked me for my magic, and while it is ill-advised to allow someone control of one’s magic, if my brother trusted this male, then I can too. D’Artaron is an honorable male of his word. He would return my magic whenever I asked. It’s an opportunity that will likely never present itself to me again. An opportunity that will free me from an obligatory marriage and persecution.
If I’m disempowered, nobody will want to hurt me or marry me off. I could live with my brother back on the farm. “If I give you my magic, I want your word that you’ll keep it.” I pick out a long mourning dress one could wear to a casual dinner.
“Not that one,” the commander says.
I turn to see he’s not looking. How can he tell which one I picked? His magic, most likely. Must be nice to have such control of one’s magic. “Why not this one?” It’s plain, yet not simple, with a lavish, tall, fluffy collar.
“Too modest.”
I grab another one. Similar, but with a lower neckline.
“Not that one either.”
I try one more and hear a growl outside the cell.
“Fine. Do you want to pick out my dress?”
A layered black dress with a leather corset separates itself from the rest. He pulls out a black lace scarf and thigh-high boots. “Here you go.”
I step into the boots first and catch him sneaking a peek at me.
Smiling under my breath, I pretend I didn’t see. He does find me attractive. It feels good to be looked at. I grew up in the shadow of my much prettier sister, and then I married a prince who found others more attractive than me. A little attention from an older male does my soul good.
