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Wrapping the leash around her hand a couple of times she waved him off in his current direction.
“She’ll be staying with me for now, she has answers I need. Perhaps I’ll let her out to play if she cooperates.” She threw that in with a backwards glance and wink.
I turned to see he’d bowed at her retreat, sending a much slower, possibly threatening wink my way when he caught me looking. I glared, as if I could intimidate answers out of him in my bound state. He spun around, unbothered, whistling an unhinged tune, his axe thrown over a shoulder, on his way to torture some humans most likely. I added Captain Ravensford to my list, right under Mistress Mara.
My head was yanked to the side as we changed directions and I renewed my efforts in testing the shadow leash. Its cool material was smooth against my skin, but despite its silky texture, it was unyielding. I tried to memorize the stone halls, but they were identical, every window sealed by matching black stone. The only light was cast by flames was captured in glass globes over iron bases mounted to the wall. What kind of sorcery was this? Did she have enough magic to enchant and tame flame?
Walking into her suite was nothing like I expected. Rather than menacing darkness or evil incarnate, it was like stepping into a purple flower. Purple velvet curtains lined the majority of the walls. The same fabric engulfed a canopy bed large enough for a small family. A fireplace stood empty while more of the globes flickered in the corners. How could she afford such luxury when she only ruled animalistic vampires? Was it all from theft? It had to be, what other income could they handle? They could hardly farm or trade when restricted to the night. She had to be controlling the flames to allow them so close to the thick fabric.
She led me past the bed through a small arch into a large bathing chamber. If I thought the bedroom spoke of luxury, it was nothing compared to the opulence of this space. Hanging from the ceiling was a chandelier of smaller globes, casting as much light as the setting sun. The floor was a river of thin, soft stones in purples, blues, and greens. Rising from the floor was a series of shining metal poles that emptied into a black marble soaking tub. Facing the strange set up was a gilded floor-length mirror, a curtained off stall, and some violet upholstered seating. It looked like a partly backless church stall but with cushioning.
She approached the soaking tub and twisted the knobs until through some sorcery a spout of steaming water poured out of an empty tube. I caught a glimpse of my wide eyes in the water's reflection before she added in a scoop of white salts that filled the air with a scent I was no longer associating with the small white star-shaped flower. She attached the leash to the clawed foot of the tub,
“Strip.” she commanded, lowering herself onto the upholstered bench.
“Not with you watching,” I said as firmly as possible, unable to keep my eyes from darting to the water. I’d never been comfortable with my body, my lack of curves and the many scars from training made my body an unfortunate consequence, as my mother called it.
To my surprise, she wordlessly reclined her head to stare at the stony ceiling so I could freely undress.
“Why must you stay in here at all?” I complained, rather than acknowledge another shred of decency.
“I’ve known too many that would see a full tub as an opportunity rather than a mercy.” She spoke softly to the ceiling, and I felt a knot of emotions form in my throat at the unexpected tenderness.
I peeled off the stiff clothing and entered the hot water which was pain-edged bliss. I scrubbed my aggravated skin softly, worried the salts would sting any torn skin. Going to unravel my braid I remembered the loss anew. Dunking my head under the water I scrubbed the scalp and let a few tears loose where they couldn’t be seen. It was only hair… and it made cleaning it much faster, and it would be harder to grab in a fight. I emerged to take a deep breath. Leaning against the edge of the tub I pulled my limbs in before looking at her.
She had started to get up from her seat, and the look of concern quickly dropped from her face when she saw I’d had no intention of filling my lungs with anything but air. Her loose tunic had fallen to the side giving the distinct impression her well-endowed chest was about to escape. I cleared my throat loudly, as if they would reverse direction at the sound.
“Why do you have a… a church stall in your bathing chamber?” I asked, wondering for the first time if she had a God.
She blinked, collecting herself before answering, “It’s not a stall, it’s a chaise.”
At my confused look she continued.
“You could say it’s used for a different kind of worship, little slayer, we succubae need more than blood to be truly satisfied.” She licked her lips slowly. Whatever ease I’d felt before was gone. Looking over the tub's rim I stopped. She’d never moved but my clothes were gone.
“Where’s my Tunic? My Breeches? The Leathers?” My voice rose with each question.
“Are you done then?” She stood, and I sank deeper into the murky water, my only privacy.
She sent shadows into the water, they wrapped around my nakedness, draining the water and drying me as they went until I was decently covered. I stood, nervous to be so fully at her mercy as the drip from my shorn hair reminded me that as soon as I was unconscious I had been robbed of something I loved.
“Come with me.” She spoke walking back through the arch to a large wardrobe.
Despite knowing my long-term plan was to indulge her whims until she let her guard down, I couldn’t help but wish I was on the rack if it meant avoiding dresses.
Seven
Her wardrobe was larger than any I’d seen, one length containing long and elaborate gowns most of which seemingly embroidered with patterns of the night sky. I would most likely drown in them, her height and feminine curves far exceeding my own.
After discarding several gowns into a pile nearby, she brought a crimson dress over to me. Turning her head sideways as her eyes darted between the gown and my face, she grunted in approval before gesturing for me to sit. She then summoned more shadows, her hands moving in a blur while fabric fell in long scraps to the ground. When she was done. There, in the place of the full skirted wonder, was a simple red gown with impossibly intricate embroidery of a thornless rose. She threw it in my lap in a wordless command.
Maybe she could read my thoughts and was going to torture me with wordless insults. I reluctantly slipped the gown on over the shadows, who seemed to place the laces in my hands. I laced it up slowly, mentally cursing the loss of Celia and at the slight of the embroidery.
Turning back towards her I froze. She’d begun to strip. Her torn tunic was tossed onto the floor unceremoniously, and I found myself face to face with the large curves of her breasts barely concealed by shadow. My body quickly, and inconveniently, recalled the euphoria her bite had inspired. She raised her leg to rest on the foot of the wardrobe, giving me a good view of the inside of her shadow speckled thigh. Running her graceful hands down the thick tensed muscle she gathered the magic stitches to pool in her hand. In their wake there was no wound, not a single mark.
Her skin was flawless in an otherworldly way, pale as a star in the night that was her long black hair. Unraveled, it hugged her modestly like the paintings of merfolk, clinging to the pillowy curves of her stomach before slipping between her strong legs as if no other covering was necessary. I felt the growing urge to reach out my hand, to touch her instead of harm her. A sharp pain tore through my heart at that. Was I so easily bewitched to forget my oaths?
“I have no issues with you watching.” She purred. How long had I been staring? My face flamed and an irrational urge to clarify I would be murdering her not admiring her. I doubted that would earn me any points, so I remained silent.
