Page 19

“In eleven days, the Bride Binding ceremony will link your services to me indefinitely.”

Your services, not even recognizing me as a person. “What does that have to do with me being here?”

Lord Rollo scowls at my appearance, sliding his stare along my form with a hint of desire and disgust. “Olga, have her try on a few dresses for me. I want every single Jordian to see my prized pet.” He licks his lips and sits on the edge of his bed.

Moans and grunts permeate the room from the couple still under the sheets.

I shut my mouth, stunned.

Olga scurries to one of the wardrobes and pulls out a thin strip of gossamer fabric that is far too translucent to be considered a piece of clothing, let alone a dress.

To my deepest displeasure, she walks toward me, dress laid over one arm. “Out of your clothes, dear. The Jord Lord doesn’t have all day.”

“He seems a little busy right now with other… engagements.”

Rollo chuckles from the bed where he watches.

I take the dress from Olga. “Where is the bathroom?”

“You’ll change right here where I can keep an eye on you. You aren’t free to roam my chambers just yet, my love.”

I practically gag at the thought of being in here, with him. Fuck the fates. I write my own stories.

Turning to glare at him, I drop the dress by my feet and pull off my sleeping dress. My muscles flex, and tears well, blurring my vision. I’m just flesh and bone.

A human for him to gawk at, but I will not be someone he can claim.

Let him look. Because this will be the last he sees of me.

Olga rushes to my side, draping the fabric this way and that until my breasts are covered. The pathetic strap of fabric leaves nothing to the imagination. In fact, as I look down at my figure, I can see the indents of my clavicle, the darkening around my nipples, the dip in my belly, and the beginning of the crease between my legs.

“I’m not sure this is an appropriate dress for the ceremony.” I grind my teeth so hard they almost crack.

Lord Rollo stands from his bed and adjusts his crotch brazenly as he saunters for a closer inspection.

“You are right,” he says, and my chest fills with air. He looks to Olga. “More skin.”

What? “What type of ceremony is this anyway?”

Lord Rollo ignores my question to return to his place at the edge of the bed, legs spread wide.

I bare my teeth at him as Olga unwraps the gossamer straps and returns with two small pieces of red satin. The heat from the burning furnaces doesn’t compare to the raging inferno I feel inside for this male. If I was a better Sun’cher, I would scorch him to the spot. Throw a flaming ball of sunfyre at him or clap my hands and blayze so brightly that his eye sockets bleed from the flash.

My mouth curves into a grin as I picture him burning alive. Rollo leans back and begins to rub himself outright. Not putting his hands under his breeches, but stroking along his length nonetheless.

I hate him.

So fucking much I could cry.

I feel the tears burning there, but I will not let them fall.

I will not cry.

Olga finishes fastening the thin satin strap around my chest. It barely covers my nipples so that my breast is exposed underneath. She instructs me to step into the second piece. It’s a series of ribbons that all seem to tie together. One between my legs and ass cheeks, and another that wraps horizontally, like a pathetic excuse for a skirt.

I’m ready when Lord Rollo approaches. I study the way his shoes glisten in the light. They look polished, like he hasn’t walked in them a single day. They lace up his ankles, where his pants are neatly tucked.

He looks nothing like that day I first saw him in Goldenpine. Covered in dirt and fur, like he climbed through layers of dirt to attack the Rose & Raven. Now, I see the bureaucratic side of him. If you can call this that. The Jord seems to have a more… vicious way about it. Like everything is centered around war and lust and politics.