Page 18 of Lord of Dance and Desire

Shiny, shiny carrots.

As I instinctively protested that he couldn't love me, we hadn't known each other long enough, those doubts were swept away by a tidal wave that didn’t give a pigeon’s ragged butt for my protests, or whether my dreams buckled under the weight of a crushing binding I’d never wanted, and done nothing to attract.

For the first time, I truly understood the bond, its blessing and its curse. It would be either, depending on whether I fought or gave in. Andrei had given in.

But submission was easy for him, wasn’t it? He held all the cards, all the power. I’d spend decades figuring out how to carve power of my own.

Soulbond. A pretty, romantic word for subjugation.

A word that did nothing to describe the reality of the spirit that now clung to me, as much a part of me as my own.

Andrei knew me, even the parts I wanted to keep hidden. Knew me as if I was his second self. That same understanding of him settled in me.

His mind pulled back, and I snapped into my own body, shaking my head, my cheeks wet with tears as I rebuilt my mental shields, another instinctive process. Still, desire heated from low simmer to roiling boil. Need. Leaving him, if I ever did, would rip away a part of my new soul.

“Now,” he said, “tell me again that I don't own you.” The glaze in his eyes cleared for a second. “Deny that you own me.”

I shook my head again. Not in denial of him or our bond, but in denial of my former refusal.

As refusal withered into dust, I watched myself fall with a peculiar kind of grief. Who lived through their own death? The bond constricted again, then released me, allowing room to breathe.

I told you it was a curse,he whispered in my mind, a shimmer of empathy in his ruthless voice.But if I must fall to it, I’ll bring you down with me.

That’s not love!

It’s Fae love.

Iloatheyou.

That, my darling, is also how Fae love. No High Fae will say different.

He felt my acquiescence and purred, nuzzling the side of my neck. Teeth grazed my skin and from his sudden tension, I knew he would bite me. I sensed none of his usual restraint, the care he’d taken the first time I gave him my neck. With the periphery of our minds joined, I felt his inner storm, a maelstrom of cutting edges I’d have to battle through to get to the soft, warm center.

Like a demented lollipop.

Constin was there, sliding a hand around Andrei's neck and whispering in his ear.

“If you bite her now,” Constin crooned, “the binding will weaken. Make her beg you for it, make her crave. Take her neck only when she offers submission, and she will never escape. She will kneel at your feet and call you her Lord.”

Oh, Iwould? The words would have annoyed me because of the proprietary edge, but I instinctively understood Constin’s purpose.

Redirection.

If Andrei bit me now, he'd hurt me. Bad.

“Taste her first.” Mathen, now kneeling at our side two arm lengths away. His soft, sweet voice like molasses. “Taste herand lick her and make her gush. Proof that she comes at your command, my Lord.”

Now I did writhe, as helplessly enflamed with lust as I was with embarrassment. Jesus, these Cassanian men were so nonchalant with their filth. EvenMathen.

Andrei paused, and the teeth retreated from my neck as he flowed back onto his knees, straddling me.

Hands slipped under my t-shirt and grasped the waistband of my leggings, yanked them down along with underwear and flats, tossing the clothing to the side.

He pushed my knees up, caressed my ankles and spread my legs wide, opening me to the cool air and his scorching gaze.

He looked his fill, staring at my open pussy and I lay there too aroused for embarrassment. Nearly dazed with the growing need, Constin’s attention on Andrei’s face, Mathen’s on mine.

I almost giggled.

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