Page 9 of Ruled By Magic

I tried to find the right words. “Helen, this dress, it’s very—”

Helen looked and sighed. “Now I understand what he was on about. He said you wouldn’t want to wear the dress he’d picked. I thought he meant it might not be your style, that he was worrying about nothing. But now I get it.” She met my eyes, and the sympathy on her face made my heart lurch. I didn’t want pity.

“What will he do if I refuse?” I held my breath.

“He told me to tell you,”—Helen swallowed—“that if you won’t wear what he’s picked out, you’ll dine here, alone with him, and he won’t allow you any clothes at all.”

My breath came faster. Helen looked at the floor. Would that be better? He’d see me naked soon enough, anyhow. But the vivid image in my mind was too much to bear. Naked, at that prim dinner table, for a whole evening with the Lord Commander? My cheeks glowed hot at the thought. No, I couldn’t. Whatever this event was, it meant a tiny reprieve. Space to get myself used to his presence before he had me all to himself.

Fuck.

Two options, both terrible. My stomach sank at the reality of my situation. I relied on the Lord Commander for everything. He could give me ball gowns, clothe me in rags, or have me go around bare. Clothing, so crucial to dignity and self-image. I’d never given much thought to it until now. I picked up the dress, one of the strange undergarments, and the lone pair of shoes, and went to change in the bathroom.

I emerged, unsteady in the merciless stilettos, sky-high with metal heels and a diamanté strap. Helen’s shocked expression told me everything. Wonderful. I approached the full-length mirror in the corner with trepidation.

My shiny, conditioned hair pulled up into a spiraling bun, and the loose pieces hung in soft chestnut waves to frame my face. My fake-tanned skin glowed, and the silver-tipped nails gave my hands an elegant appearance. Somehow, my makeup had survived my tears. Heavy black lined my eyelids, and a complex design traced upward to capture my mark. The sky blue of the Lord Commander’s initials stood out bright on my cheekbone. Blue to match my eyes.

The teal dress clung to me as if it were painted on. Silken material outlined my breasts, the curves of my hips and ass, the contour of my stomach. When I moved, the soft fabric caressed my skin, and the heels forced me to sway in a sultry way just to keep upright. The slit exposed my tanned thigh almost to the waist. I felt naked. Almost worse than naked, as if the dress drew attention to everything which should be hidden. The thought of going out in public made me want to curl up in a ball and weep.

The thought of the Lord Commander viewing it in private was worse.

“You look beautiful.” The bright, forced jollity in Helen’s tone grated.

A smooth male voice came from outside the door. “Helen. Is Livet ready?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Fear burned through me in a sickening wave. My hands trembled. I looked down at them, eyes wide.

He’s only a man. Get it together.

I clenched my fists and sucked air into my lungs.

“Just a minute,” Helen called, then turned to me. “Ready?”

I nodded. Helen gave my shoulder a squeeze and started toward the door.

The Lord Commander stood in the living room, already dressed for an evening out. Dinner jacket, bow tie, and another red shirt. His brows rose as he took in my appearance, and his gaze traveled over my body before coming to rest on my face. The next moment his expression smoothed over, a brief flash of interest replaced by cold disdain. His stare pinned me like a butterfly to a board, and I couldn’t tear my gaze from his.

I’d registered him as attractive in the courtroom, but distantly, like an actor in a vid, irrelevant to me. Now, trapped, I took in his features. Intense, dark eyes, sharp cheekbones, skin with just a hint of a tan. The perfection of his face threw me off balance. All the grace of a deadly predator right before it struck.

Helen broke the silence. “All ready, Lord Commander.”

He nodded without taking his eyes from me. “Thanks, Helen. You can go now.”

“My pleasure.” Her voice was strained. “Have a nice evening, Liv. I’ll see you tomorrow morning to take you on a tour of the palace.”

It took every bit of restraint I possessed to not grab Helen’s arm and beg her to stay. My last lifeline, gone. A distant part of me noted a palace tour must mean some freedom, but I couldn’t focus on it yet. The door shut.

Alone.

Alone, with a beautiful monster who held full rights to my body. I swallowed, hyperaware of my exposed skin and the way the dress he’d selected displayed every curve. It made all thoughts of modesty ridiculous.

He took a step toward me, and fear spiked in my chest. I flinched and stumbled back. He paused. “Enough of that.”

He strolled to the small, two-seater sofa and sat, one arm stretched along the back. He gestured to the spot beside him. “Sit.” His voice was smooth and rich. It held a note of absolute command.

I approached, trying to minimize the sway of my hips in these stupid fucking shoes. I perched on the very edge of the sofa. Too close. Even seated, he was a head taller than me. His physical presence filled the space, and my heart hammered against my ribs. Everything about his demeanor radiated power, confidence, and control.

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