Page 19 of Caged By Dance and Desire

It was a dangerous practice and officially forbidden, even among warriors where units used to deliberately starve members to keep them under a certain weight to make certain maneuvers easier, and the warriors faster. Our power would consume our bodies if we didn't eat enough.

“I'll talk with her,” I said, Constin opening the bedroom door. “Make sure Mathen brings her lunch every day—never mind, I can already envision her face. . .assign a caterer to the dancers and staff for now. A cold snack table, and a hot buffet lunch. She'll eat if everyone else does.”

There—neatly outmaneuvered. The little mortal stood no chance against a male of my cleverness.

But I'd have to talk to my mother. Surely we could install a permanent commissary. Why hadn't she already done this? Her philosophy regarding mild deprivation spurring motivation was beginning to annoy me.

Amusement warmed Constin's eyes as he pulled aside my cloth-of-gold bedspread.

“She's not going to like you fussing. Order the chef to prepare her only the most decadent carbs for a week if she disobeys. She'll hate that worse than a spanking.”

I laid Anah down and removed her—I cursed. “Darkness. These aren’t fit to be called shoes. . .I need Mia. I didn't schedule for all this shopping.”

Anah needed everything. Shoes, basic leisure wear, evening gowns, Court attire and the proper cosmetics and accessories and under garments to match, of course. I wanted to chose most of it myself—that was part of the joy of taking a consort after all, dressing them up—but I didn’t have the time.

And she was likely to protest anyway, which meant more arguing.

Straightening, I stared down at my bonded, running my hand through my hair. I'd had to bully her about the groceries, and that tactic wouldn't work the more comfortable she became with me. Iknewshe wasn't going to let me replace her shoes without a fight.

Would she yell, stomp, throw things, threaten to stab me with my own blade?

Oh, no. Nothing normal.

She'd give me big sad eyes sparkling with unshed tears that gutted me every time she wielded them, and that aura of wary disappointment as she quietly accepted her fate and made me feel like a monster. Or worse, an Old One.

Wouldeverythingbe a fight I'd inevitably lose? It was why I must be strategically cruel; slam my foot down and guard my rules rabidly or succumb to her every whim, no matter how idiotic or dangerous.

“I'm so fucked. I always thought having a female would be easy. They're supposed to be submissive when they bond.”

Constin choked. “Oh, my sweet faeling. Don't let your mother or sister hear you say that. You wouldn't survive the hour.”

I turned and laid my head on his shoulder and his arms came around me. He made soothing noises, smoothing his hand down my head.

“It'll be all right, faeling,” he said, and kissed the top of my head. “We'll get you trained. You're young enough to unlearn all the stupid shit the unmated males taught you. They're unmated for a reason, you know.”

I balled my fist up and hit him in the side, but didn't pull away from the embrace. I needed the comfort.

“You're not mated,” I muttered.

“I'm intelligent. And two hundred years your elder. What are you going to tell her about the townhouse?”

She'd be awake soon and I'd have to explain why we weren't at her apartment.

“Perhaps I should save that argument for tomorrow.”

Chapter

Seven

HASANNAH

Iwoke in a strange room. Disoriented, I flung my legs over the side of the bed and stood, darting to the door.

Unlocked. I opened it and ran down the hallway, heart pounding, barely noting gleaming blackwood floors and cream walls. I passed a curved threshold and stopped, backtracking. On one side of a spacious living room was a set of open doors leading to what seemed like an outdoor corridor and courtyard.

I stepped into the living room. Flat black walls accented in gold, a seating area consisting of a large couch, settee and arm chairs all covered in velvet green. The blackwood tables were low and square and scattered with a combination of decor and personal items. Plants and smaller tables holding tall vases were placed strategically throughout the room and as I walked towards the open doors on the other side, I glimpsed myself in gilt mirrors.

The open doors framed an inner courtyard, an outdoor corridor surrounding it in a square and broken by sets of doors.

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