Page 73 of Caged By Dance and Desire

“I believe that’s my dismissal,” Constin said. He turned and walked into his wing of the house.

“Are you certain, Anah? Tonight may not be the best time. I'm feeling raw.”

I swallowed, girding myself for a leap of trust. “Then take me the way you feel.”

He rose and turned, looking down, and held out his hand. “I hope I don’t make you regret that.”

I slid my palm against his, my fingers trembling.

I couldn't read anything behind his detached but intent mask. Because of the time we’d spent together already, I allowed myself a little hope that maybe sex with him would be. . .tolerable once we got past the foreplay part. I'd never had a lover who gave more than a cursory interest in my pleasure once it was clear my body required a bit of finessing. At that point they noped out.

Also known as:

Phase Four: (Anger) He Asks What About Me?

AKA I Have Needs Too

I didn’t think Andrei would nope out in the normal course of events, but now was different. He wasn’t in a romantic head space.

So I braced myself, knowing this might be unpleasant but wanting to do something to mend whatever I’d cracked. Especially since so far. . .he wasn’t following the Phases.

He wasn’t perfect. He was sly, manipulative, obsessively controlling, violent and rather amoral.

He was also honorable, supportive, generous and giving, communicative and tried to anticipate my needs—though I might slot that under obsessively controlling. Coordinated socks and leggings?Really?

I couldn’t recall a single insult, dismissal, neg, criticism. . .except of my eating patterns. He listened. Listening didn’t mean agreement, but he heard every word I said.

Andrei pulled me to my feet and flush against him, sliding an arm around my waist. Maybe the required finessing hadn't been my body at all, but my soul knowing I belonged to another man.

Well, not a man.

“You're trembling,” he said, surveying my face. “Fear or desire?” His thumb brushed my bottom lip. “A little of both. You don't need to be afraid. I swore when I was younger I would never be—” He shook his head.

The words he'd cut off sounded important. “You would never be what?”

He lifted a shoulder. “A reason humans are taught to fear my caste. Why my own bonded consort was taught to fearmeto the point where she refuses to acknowledge my true name.”

I tensed. He saw it, of course.

“Cruel, in other words.” A flash of bitterness across his face. “My kind are known for it. It's our specialty.”

He couldn’t lie.

“It's no honor, no pleasure, Hasannah, to harm someone under my command.” He looked away from me. “When I do cause pain, it's not a decision I make lightly.”

I chose my next words carefully. “You don't think maybe there's another way to teach a lesson?”

“Humans and their time outs, their discussions of what went wrong and how future behavior might be improved.”

I didn't bridle at the mockery because most of it appeared self-directed, and again underlaid with a thread of bitter regret, close to anguish. He didn’t disagree with the nature of the punishment, or it’s necessity; our pain hurt him.

I wondered, fleetingly, if he'd been subjected to these types of punishments as a child but didn't ask. It was too invasive, and it wasn't the right time. Not when he felt so close to a brink.

“Pain,” he said in the quiet of the ending night, “is often the most effective teacher for a people who find it too easy to kill. Not always your own pain, though. You won’t abandon Mathen again, will you? Now you know what he'll endure for his failure.”

I shook my head. Of course I wouldn't. My whipping boy, like Cora had warned. No wonder Andrei had encouraged my growing affection. A threat to Mathen was more effective than a threat to myself.

Andrei shook his head. “None of that matters in this moment. My woman finally walks into my arms and I’m brooding instead of tasting her. I’m a fool.”

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