Page 10 of Claimed By Midnight

"Shall we continue the tour?" I open the door with a cruel smile, knowing each step will only reinforce the extent of her captivity.

I lead her through the grand foyer, my wings brushing against marble columns. "The rules are simple enough for even a human to understand."

Her spine stiffens at the insult. Good. Let her remember what she is.

"You'll have free range of the house and grounds - a generous allowance for someone of your...status." I trace a finger downher arm, savoring how she flinches. "The boundary extends to the tree line, but try to cross it..." Magic crackles between my fingers. "Well, you're smart enough to guess."

We pass the library, its towering shelves visible through open doors. "You'll earn your keep in my workshop. I need steady hands for detail work, and yours look capable enough."

"I'm not your servant." Her voice carries more steel than I expected.

I grab her chin, forcing those golden-green eyes to meet mine. "You're whatever I say you are. Servant. Pet. Slave. The choice of word doesn't change your reality."

Releasing her, I continue down the hall. We reach the kitchen, a sprawling space filled with copper pots and crystalline cooling boxes powered by frost magic. "You'll take your meals here. There's staff on hand to keep everything stocked and prepared. I'll inform them that you'll be here from now on.

"And if I refuse to work?"

I smile, letting cruelty reshape my features. "Then you don't eat. Simple cause and effect, little demon." My hand finds the back of her neck, squeezing just hard enough to make her gasp. "Though there are far worse consequences I could devise."

Her pulse races under my fingers - fear and fury mingling in those expressive eyes. I release her neck but stay close, enjoying how she tries to hide her trembling.

"The workshop requires absolute obedience, though. One mistake could be..." I pause, letting tension build. "Fatal. So you'll follow every instruction without question. Consider it motivation to learn quickly."

She opens her mouth to argue, but I cut her off. "Your first lesson starts now - silence unless spoken to. Nod if you understand."

The war in her eyes is delicious - pride battling survival instinct. Finally, she gives a short nod.

"Good girl." I pat her cheek condescendingly. "You might be trainable after all."

I watch her fingers trail along each doorframe we pass, testing the hinges, the locks, searching for any flaw in the craftsmanship. Her movements are subtle - practiced - like she's done this before. A smile tugs at my lips as she discovers every lock reinforced with magic that burns at her touch.

"Careful." I catch her wrist as she yanks back from another scorched handle. "The wards don't distinguish between accident and intent."

Her golden-green eyes narrow, but she doesn't respond. I can see I have in no way deterred her, though, and that sends a thrill through me.

She moves to the next door, this time keeping her hands visible as she studies the mechanism. Smart girl. Looking without touching.

We reach the grand staircase, and she pauses to examine the ornate windows stretching three stories high. Her gaze traces the metalwork between panes, likely calculating if the decorative swirls could support her weight. I let her look her fill, amused by the quiet determination in her stance.

"The glass is reinforced with binding spells." I run a finger down the nearest pane, making golden runes flash beneath the surface. "Try to break it, and the shards will cage you instead."

She shifts her attention to the heavy curtains, those delicate hands testing the fabric's strength. Every movement is purposeful, methodical. No hysteria, no blind panic - just cool assessment of her prison. In fact, besides the first few moments when I found her, there's never been any begging either.

My wings twitch with growing interest. Breaking her will be far more entertaining than I'd anticipated. It makes me want to taunt her, to push her.

"The more you search for escape routes..." I step closer, letting my shadow fall over her. "The more creative I'll become in containing you."

Her spine straightens, but she keeps examining each potential exit we pass. Even knowing it's futile, she catalogs every door, window, and passage. That sharp mind working behind those eyes, mapping the mansion's layout. Building her mental blueprint of my domain.

My blood heats at her quiet defiance. Such spirit deserves a special kind of breaking - slow, thorough, until that stubborn pride crumbles to ash in her mouth.

"The workshop is this way." I guide her to the connected walkway that leads to the little building behind my massive home.

I push open the heavy workshop doors, the familiar scent of metal and magic washing over me. Weapons line the walls - blades catching the light from enchanted lanterns, their edges hungry for blood. This is my sanctuary, where I craft death into art.

Athena steps inside, those remarkable eyes widening as she takes in the arsenal surrounding us. Her fingers twitch at her sides, and I catch a spark of something beyond fear in her expression. Interest.

"We'll start here in the morning, so I hope you remember your way." I give her a grin that I know makes her angrier. "We'll start with the basics and see-"

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