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“I understand, sir” I try, hesitantly.
“Not quite there yet, try again” he orders.
Heat rises to my cheeks, no doubt staining the pale surface with embarrassment. He is playing with me. A punishment for giving him an order.
“I understand, Duke Carmicheal” I respond, forcing eveness into my voice.
"Oh, come now, you can do better than that," he said. Keeping his hands at my sides, he pulls his body from mine, straightening to his full height. The stark difference in our height reminds me he is far from human.
He looks down at me expectantly, a glint of amusement rising a single corner of his full lips. I clench my fist, holding my temper as I pray this next answer satisfies him.
"I understand, Master," I said, annoyance slipping through.
The Duke stares at me. I look back boldly, uncaring as his eyes roam my mostly naked body. They linger on my breast before traveling down to my hips. My sex pulses, a need I've never experienced filling me. I wonder what my skin will feel like with his broad body between my thighs. I lick my lips wetting the dry surface.
"Thank you, for saving me," I add breathlessly.
His hands drop to his side. Stepping back as if I have struck him, a mixture of anger and something I can’t identify crossing his face.
"Don't be mistaken, you're not special and there is no happy ending for you," he said, beginning to circle me.
Instinct holds me in place. I follow his movements with my eyes. Time seems to slow and his hand shots out from behind, turning me so that I face him. The Duke's thick fingers wrap around my neck, sliding his hand up until it cups my chin. He grips my jaw tightly before loosening his fingers and using his thumb to trace my cupid's bow.
“I’m no better than any of the other Dukes you saw in the great hall. I’m much worse.”
He leans down, bringing our faces inches apart. I could feel the warmth of his breath charming my aching lips. I'm powerless against the lure of pleasure he can provide.
"Don't forget you owe me. And you can be sure I'll collect. With interest," he said, releasing me, while putting distance between us.
I can feel his walls secure themselves around him once more. This is it, everything my mother has ever warned me about. The loss that washed over me at the separation of our momentary closeness terrified me. I’ve thrown myself into the unknown and now I have to live with whatever it brings.
"I hope you don't regret my mercy," he said before turning and continuing down the hallway. "I suggest you follow unless you want to be left in Eris House after all," he says over his shoulder.
He doesn’t break his stride, his long legs eating up the distance as he nears the end of the hallway. I stare at his departing figure, weighing the paths laid out before me. I thought of the hall, of all the women being passed around for the Duke's sick pleasures, and recognize how close I was to being one of them.
I thought of my family, and how far I've already come. I can’t fail them now, no matter what lay ahead of me. They were mine to take care of, and I will do everything in my power to ensure their safety. Even if it means becoming the future King of Orthani’s pet.
Duke Carmicheal rounds the corner and I take a deep breath, preparing for the pain that will follow. Limping behind him, I clench my teeth, keeping my back straight.
I made my choice, and even though I have no idea what is waiting for me on the other side of this, I walk behind my master with my head high.
8
CARMICHAEL
By the time I step foot in the mansion, my exhaustion has turned to rage. A zagfer scuttles past us, close enough to step on the hem of my robe.
I stop immediately and turn to the wretched creature, who quivers under my gaze. As he should. My mother would never accept this kind of insolence, so neither do I.
“My lord,” the zagfer says. His voice trembles with fear and he drops to his knees. The plates and cutlery in his hands spill onto the floor with a clatter of silver and gold. The sound echoes around the room, deafening me.
I yank my robe from beneath his body.
“My lord, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” He mumbles out a string of simpering apologies that I cannot bear to hear.
“Be quiet,” I order. The zagfer shuts up. “You disgust me. Get out of my sight.”
He scuttles away as far as his legs will take him. As he goes, my rage simmers into depression, reminiscent of the deep malaise I have felt often in my life. When I turn to Diane, her look of horror stops me in my tracks.
