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Squealing like a petrified pig, Crescendo darts away in a fit of jingles before the bastard has the gall to start playingYakety Saxas I chase him through the ballroom with the ghosts watching in amused silence.
“Bring your pretty bells to me, Cres,” I say from the opposite side of the piano where he’s panting and crouching, prepared to scramble away at my first move. “You’ll look quite nice as a horn ornament.”
“Enough! Both of you!” the feminine voice rings out behind me.
I wish I could say it rakes on my nerves, especially with how worn and hoarse it is, but the sweet, stubborn command is enough to rile a fever in my blood. Oh, my lust licks a fire in me. But with her knowledge of my true identity, the very notion that she may command me for anything…a raging hard madness rips through me with the need to bury myself in her hot and tight sex. And punish her for her audacity.
When I turn, I find Aradia kneeling on the floor, clutching the gown to her chest. Her eyes, still glassy and swollen from her earlier tears, burn into mine. She thwacks at a few pink curls that stick to her sweat-damp cheeks. Despite that furtive, chastising glower, her shoulders are weak, and she looks damn near ready to collapse again.
Crescendo is right about one thing. No matter how exasperating she is, the little Butterfly deserves some aftercare.
My jester straightens and smiles before removing his jingly cap and sweeping into a flamboyant bow. “A thousand apologies, my Lady. And another thousand on behalf of him because he’ll never give you one. Easier to get chocolate milk from a stone.” He smirks at me with the inside joke, and I growl.
Scrambling around the piano, springing far to the left when he gets near me, Crescendo approaches, staring down at her. One hand lowers to help her to her feet, but my low growl warns him. Instead, the simpering idiot plops down next to her and props his chin in his hands, batting his eyes.
“Pretty sure it’s blood, not chocolate milk,” she giggles softly.
He shrugs. “Forgive me, my Lady, but I’m partially made of stone, and I bleed. Should I have said eggnog? If you prefer a different sort of fluid—”
“Shut your trap before I turn you into a harmonica!” I snarl and advance toward them.
Crescendo jabs a finger at me while telling her, “He’s a real grumpy sore loser.”
I stop within an inch of her body, towering over her, my monstrous shadow swallowing her whole. Her humanity still casts a soft and rosy glow on her skin. And she still doesnotsee them fluttering all around her!
“Eros?” she says weakly while holding the gown close to her chest like a life preserver.
I do my best to ignore Crescendo as he plays Christina Perri’sHumanin the background. She glances at him with a tender, warm smile. When she arches her neck to look up at me, her teary eyes regard me with reverence…and awe. No being in all my centuries has given me that expression when I bear this form. Crescendo has come close but not to this depth of emotion.With how she squeezes her arms, she is smaller, more fragile, gifting me with her vulnerability.
“Please…”
Ahhh, fuck me! I love the sound of her delicate begging.
“I’m so tired,” she says, not lowering her eyes. “And hungry. And I can’t get up.”
There is a hint of a demand inside her worn pleas. It surges blood to my cock because it’s the voice of a gods-damned queen, one fully aware of her lack of physical strength. But with how she’s voiced her needs with her gaze centered on me, knowing I am the only one who can provide, she shows the sheer strength of her heart. And soul.
“What do you need, little Aria?” I purr and throb at how she sharply inhales, then leans closer. My purr soothes her, kindles her inner glow, but it’s more effective when she’s sealed to my chest.
“I need you. I can’t make it on my own, and I want you to carry me back to the bedroom because I need to wash and change. I need food and rest.”
Testing her, I form a fist, wanting more. “Beg.”
Her fingers curve into the fabric, and she swallows hard before nodding. More tears glisten in her eyes from how I’m driving that vulnerability, breaking her down. If she is to stay longer—my muscles tighten at the notion, pulse thrashing in my veins—but if she is to stay, she must play bymyrules and obey myeverycommand. This is not my paradisaical palace. Anything less than her total dependence on me could result in her death, which I will not allow.
“Please, Eros, I need your help. Will you…help me?” she whimpers so prettily.
I take three steps back but do not lose the mystical haven of her eyes. My final test. “Yes, Butterfly. But first…you willcrawlto me.”
Her sex pulses with her pheromones, driving my cock even harder, madder. Damned beast will likely come any second. I should have known better, given how much she got off on my degradation while I had her with her back to the pillar. Now, I wonder who likely mistreated her with punishing words she did not deserve that have led to such suppressed arousal. Clearly, it did not damage her self-respect. She’s fucking dripping with it as she bites her lip and wavers, eyes darting to their corners like she’s going to run.
I chuckle darkly. “You wouldn’t make it a step, sweet girl. And if you force my hand to catch you, I will give you such a punishment, it will make the mirror one seem like a wet dream.”
Crescendo sticks his head into the conversation, jingling and lilting, “What mirror one?”
I shove his face away, maintaining my unchecked gaze on her.
Her heartbeat pounds in her chest, and I sense her blood rushing quicker in her veins. But she takes a few deep breaths, nods, and slowly plants one hand on the floor while the other clutches the gown.
