Page 21 of To Tame An Angel

“Nalla,” she greeted and turned to me with a small smile. It didn’t reach her eyes.

She snapped her fingers, and the man left the room, eyes on the ground. It was not lost on my mother that I studied him. I could tell by the way she raised her brow. Even at fifty-seven, mother was a pillar of strength. She trained daily with weights and at night; she trained with her men. Be it with sex or punishment, her body was conditioned and lacked any softness it might’ve once had. She was pure, unquestionable stone.

“Mother,” I said and went to her, taking her hand and bringing it to my heart, as was customary.

She studied me with a deadly precision. “I heard of your unfortunate incident.”

Right. I should’ve known she wished to come see for herself what issues I was having with my taming. Failure was not an option.

“It’s been handled. I retrieved him and he’s in my quarters,” I stated, standing as straight as I could while still bearing the weight of her gaze.

She took her time responding. A General always did. It’s why she was who she was. She was seldom rash and always calculated. With a slim finger, she lifted my chin and inspected me. It was a task not to yank my face from her hands.

“I hear he’s bedridden,” she said, with a questioned tone. “I assume you did that?”

Right, she assumed I beat him to the point of incapacitating him. That’s what she would’ve done if she allowed a man to live after such an affront. I pulled myself away and walked towards one shelf packed with historical books.

“He did it himself in his flight,” I stated.

She walked around the room in contemplative silence.

“When he’s recovered, I’ll begin his taming,” I assured her.

“Is there something wrong with his cock?” She asked, and I turned to stare at her.

“No.”

On the contrary, Tannor had a lovely, thick cock, which I hoped to enjoy for many years to come.

Mother raised a brow. “Is there something wrong with his ass?”

I saw her trajectory and remained silent as we stared at one another. The answer was obvious on my face and she sighed in deep disappointment. She sat on my leather couch, spreading herself out and making it look like she ruled the entire world.

“It is difficult,” she began and moved her hand about the air. “The first time. A young woman, such as yourself, finds herself owning a strong, handsome man who is completely at her mercy. Many days locked together make room for conversations. These conversations can… confuse the goal of the taming.”

I slowly sat and faced her. She’d provided me with similar speeches before.

“I, myself, fell to such charms from an eager mouth,” she drawled, and her eyes shifted.

She was uncomfortable with revealing things about herself. About my father. About the unspoken past I constantly hungered for.

“Because you loved him,” I said, and her eyes sharpened on me.

“Love is not allowed,” she snapped.

I swallowed and clasped my hands. How was one to control love?

“It can feel like love, but it’s not love. The tender moments between the brutality can confuse the mind. When his eyes softly stare at you with devotion, it can blur everything. When one’s heart is open to affection, it can feel that when he’s in you, he loves you. That when he holds you at night, he cares. But they care for one thing; escape. Freedom. To be rid of you.” She leaned forward and studied me. “You’re not their wife. He is not your husband or even a lover. He is your slave. His cock belongs to you for when you desire it. That’s all. To love will devolve us into what we were before.”

I looked away and swallowed, feeling the sensation of frustration bubbling within me. Wishing to argue and to explain what I’d learned in the past few hours. To challenge these beliefs.

“In the times past, women were nothing but property to the men. They married us, without our consent, for our fathers would sell us. We belonged to them, to fuck when he wished, even if we had no desire for it ourselves. To keep us thick with babies until the day our bellies were distended and needed no more. Then he would find another, younger, prettier girl to begin the cycle once more.”

There was no denying that reality was as terrible as the current one. Yet, I still felt there could be a happy medium.

“Men wish for the control, it’s in their nature. They wish to showcase their strength over us and incapacitate us. This is why they cannot be allowed their wings or freedom. They had it once and abused it. We live in the aftermath of their sins.”

I raised my chin and held her stare. “But how long will they pay for it? How many boys will be made to suffer because of the sins of the past?”

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