“You would have to physically beat me out of this bed,” I say, and Olbric laughs. “I’m serious, you and Cass are demanding casters.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Olbric says.
“Not at all. It was exactly that I needed,” I say before I catch his lips again. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, love,” Olbric chuckles before he gently extracts himself enough to roll over, allowing me to spoon against his back. “Sleep well.”
I intend to. I pull the quilt up to cover us before I drape my arm over Olbric’s waist. And as exhausted as I am, sleep comes to claim me quick.
Confirmation
There is never a better time to turn your conduit into an overstimulated wreck than after freeing them from a long stint in a chastity cage.
Advanced Casting Principles: Conjuration by Lionel Lorne
EVEN WHEN I’M NOT FACINGthe end of a three-month chastity stint, I’m not the soundest of sleepers. My thoughts can keep me up at night, sometimes force me awake in the wee hours of the morning. With the news we uncovered about Lucien yesterday, I fully expect my dreams to be fraught.
Yet there’s no underestimating a mind that’s been denied pleasure for three godsdamned months, apparently. I groan, vainly pressing my thighs together. As I open my eyes, I’m already starting to lose the details, but the aching need left in the wake of the dream lingers.
After last night, I doubt Arlon will be in the mood to free me, so I take a moment to mentally brace myself for another day or two of torment.
The sky outside is just starting to brighten, and even though it’s well before first bell, trying to go back to sleep feels useless. Instead, I get out of bed and get dressed. I take a quick trip to the abandoned baths to wash before I head towards Arlon’s office.
The focus on his office door briefly flashes, and the lock clicks open as I approach. After officially naming me as his apprentice to the rest of the Crux, he made the modification so I had permission to be here even when he wasn’t. Though, frankly, it’s a rare time he’s not behind his desk anymore.
As I enter, I half expect to find him already at work, but as I brighten the glow globes, the office is peacefully empty. The heat left in the wake of my dream has gone nowhere, so I immediately try to find something to distract myself with.
It’s not hard to do.
Unlogged spell sheets have piled up; supply requests from the Quartermaster have been pushed aside even though winter requisitions need to start soon. I gather everything up and am just about to take the seat I’ve laid claim to before my eyes land on Arlon’s chair behind his desk.
It’s a grand thing, made of oak, the ornate back expertly carved while the cushioned seat is upholstered in a deep red velvet. A part of me wonders if Arlon made it himself when no other chair fit him right.
Curiosity gets the better of me. I circle around the desk, pulling the spell log with me before I sink into the wide, comfortable seat. I pick up a quill, but as I look across the half-written missives and open letters that scatter the desk, it feels like I’m intruding. The Grandmaster’s seat suddenly feels too big for me in more ways than just its size.
I quickly return to my usual chair on the other side of the desk, shaking the feeling off, and it’s much easier to fall into work. By the time the first bell rings, I’ve already fetched and eaten breakfast, finished logging the spells, and organized Arlon’s desk with all pressing matters stacked on top so he can’t overlook them. I just set the final missive in place when the office door opens.
Arlon raises an eyebrow at me as I close the spell logbook. “Here I thought I was coming down early so I couldstopyou from working this morning.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” I admit.
“You aren’t alone there,” he says through a sigh. “Which is why I think both of us could use a break today.”
He closes the office door behind him with a definitive thud. Then I hear the quiet click of the lock. A shiver of anticipation washes through me, and the feeling only grows when he stops so close to me that I can feel the heat of his body.
“W-what about your divining?”
Arlon’s grin turns sharp. “The Crown asked for information about Lucien as soon as possible. So, tomorrow it will be possible. Unless of course, youwantme to extend your conjuration?”
I should know by now that Arlon works on his own timeline in regard to the Crown’s demands. In this instance, I can’t even say I’m mad about it. “No! No, sir. That’s not necessary.”
Amusement crinkles the corners of his eyes as he lifts his hand, and the backs of his fingers stroke gently down my cheek. Even the innocent touch makes heat pool in my stomach. I sway towards him without thought.
“Then let’s go downstairs,” he says, his voice lowered to a purr. He steps back, and I feel like I can draw in a proper breath. Then, he motions to the door to the dungeon. “After you, Apprentice.”
I obey the command. The cage has never felt tighter, more uncomfortable than it does as I head through the door and descend the stairs. All the while, Arlon tails me like a shadow, his silence both a threat and a promise.
When we reach the dungeon, Arlon touches one of the light globes, bringing it to a warm glow that doesn’t quite chase thedarkness from the corners of the room. However, it does illuminate every piece of casting equipment he has stored down here, and the sight of it all makes my breath catch.
