Page 11 of Magic of Sins

The king snatches the envelope from his hand, a grim expression on his face. But he doesn’t rebuke the sin mage for disrespecting him. Caden Nox has not bowed once to his king. Any other subject would have possibly gotten whipped for that. But not him. The sin mage must truly be powerful. So influential that even the king defers to his wishes.

“I’ll wait outside,” Ophelia tells me quietly before following her father out of the room.

I can tell she doesn’t like leaving me alone with him. And although it was her letter that got me into this mess in the first place, I’m glad of her support.

When everyone’s gone, Caden Nox rises from his chair. He walks leisurely toward me, bridging the last steps before coming to a stop right in front of me. He’s so close that I’d need to lift my head to look him in the eye. Instead, I stare at the open top buttons of his shirt, which reveal a narrow strip of skin, and the muscles that show underneath.

His skin is darker than mine. Not dark or even tanned, but you can tell that it’s not constantly hidden under several layers of fabric.

Caden Nox’ eyebrows rise as he notices my stare.

“If you prefer, we can always go with another sin,” he purrs seductively.

I take a step back, away from his intense energy, but it seems to vibrate around me, and an image that pops into my head of my fingers wandering over that naked patch of skin.

Did he put that thought in my head? No, he couldn’t have. Sin mages can only amplify feelings, they cannot awaken or control them.

I swallow.

“One meal. That’s all,” I say in a strained voice.

Caden Nox tilts his head and looks at me with amusement.

“One meal,” he repeats, licking his lower lip.

Because he still doesn’t move, I’m the first to turn away and go to the dining table. It’s set for only one person. I look up, confused.

“Aren’t you eating?”

He chuckles. “Don’t worry, Kaya, I’m going to enjoy this dinner. I just don’t want to spoil the taste.”

Oh, for all the seven virtues! He means my taste. The taste of sin. My stomach drops, and my hand clenches around the back of the chair in front of me.

“Please, do sit down.”

My legs are shaking so badly that I can hardly hold myself up anyway, so I comply with his request. He pours me wine before he sits down in the chair next to me, crosses his legs, and leans back, waiting.

“Now what?” I ask, staring at my empty plate.

My face is reflected in its shiny surface. It’s distorted, but I can still see the fear in my eyes.

“I’m sure I don’t have to explain the concept of eating to you, do I?” he asks, amused. “Start with this.”

He lifts a small cloche and hands me the plate underneath. I eye the food suspiciously.

“What is it?”

“A fennel salad with pears and dates.”

I’ve eaten fennel before, but pears and dates are foreign to me. I reach for the silverware and heap some salad onto the fork, but I can’t bring myself to put it in my mouth. Caden Nox watches me expectantly, his eyes lingering on my lips. I put the fork back down and clench my fist around the knife.

“How will it feel?” I ask.

“What?”

He seems irritated by my question. Irritated because I haven’t started eating yet like he asked me to.

“When you feed on me, how will that feel? Will it hurt?”

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