Page 19 of Ruled By Magic

“Go to bed. Sleep well.” He took a step back. “Big day tomorrow.”

The tension in my chest released a little. He’d taken enough from me tonight, it seemed. Had I behaved well enough to keep our art gallery trip short? I could hardly have been more accommodating. I clenched my fists, and sudden anger drove away some of my torpor. Anger at him, and at myself. My behavior made no sense. If he’d scrambled my brain so much in a single day, what would be left after six months?

“Goodnight, Lord Commander.” Without waiting for dismissal, I turned on my heel and fled to my room.

I sank down on the bed. My heartbeat returned to normal, free of his presence. He did something strange to me. Affected me in a way I didn’t understand. It was as though I were strapped into a rollercoaster, the turns ahead hidden. I could only ride it.

What would Hex think of me now?

I woke early and dressed. Short skirt, silky fitted shirt. My daytime uniform. Should I hide in my room and hope to avoid the Lord Commander? No. Better to emerge on my own terms than wait to be summoned. He sat on the sofa in his usual work clothes, eyes glued to his link-up. He looked up as I entered and offered a lazy, knowing smile.

Through a long night of fractured sleep, I’d resolved to stay strong. To push my guilt and shame down and deal with it later. Once I was free, without the Lord Commander to contend with. I’d resolved to be bolder, to talk to the man like he was human. He was, after all. But shyness gripped me upon seeing him, when the memory of his fingers inside me and his voice whispering in my ear slammed straight into the front of my mind.

His smile took on a feral quality as my face heated. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

Bland and polite. Good. I could handle that. “Yes, thanks, Lord Commander. You?”

“Terribly. I kept thinking of you, alone in your bedroom. I was tempted to come in and see if you were awake.”

Shit.

I wasn’t equipped for this sort of banter. Everything was too new, too strange. My room felt like a sanctuary, where my body and thoughts were my own. It was stupid, of course. He could access my room, and my body, whenever he wanted. But still. The illusion helped my sanity.

I tried for a light tone. “I need my sleep. I’m useless without at least eight hours.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Gracious of you to let me know. I’ll factor it into your busy schedule.”

I blinked. His voice was teasing, not stern. Was this him in a good mood?

“Come here.” His command snapped me from my thoughts. I approached with caution and stood before him. His gaze raked me. “We have a little time. Get—”

The jarring warble of a ringtone cut through the room.

He groaned and grabbed his link-up. “What?” I pitied whoever was on the other end. “Already?” He raised his eyes skyward. “On my way.”

He hung up. What the hell had he been about to say? He looked at me, face tight, good mood gone.

“This will have to wait until later.” He stood, reached one hand out and traced the curve of my breast through the thin shirt. My nipple hardened, and he ran a thumb over it with a sigh. “I can’t wait to play with you properly. Once I’ve finished showing you off, of course. I’ve been patient, haven’t I?”

I tensed as the impact of his words hit me. The reprieve was over, then. He intended to make full use of me tonight. Fear mingled with a traitorous thread of desire. He gripped my nipple in a hard pinch and I yelped, the pain a bright flare. “Answer the question.”

Question? Oh. He’d accept only one response. “Yes, Lord Commander.”

He released me. The pain faded, but an ache between my thighs replaced it. I swallowed and concentrated on keeping my face blank.

“I’m glad you agree. I’ll see you this evening.” He left through the door, for once. It was the first time I’d seen him use it. Did he need a walk to calm himself down? Had he sat up all night, planning what to do to me? My mouth dried and a claustrophobic panic settled over me, but the ache at my center only grew. I couldn’t trust my body. It felt like I was trapped in a faulty machine, electrical impulses firing off in irrational ways.

My skin prickled, hot and sensitized. The soft clothes I wore rasped over it. I ran a hand down my breast, over the still tender point where he’d pinched me. I needed release, to get myself under control. Now, free of the prison with its ever-present cameras and with the Lord Commander occupied, I had a tiny piece of privacy.

I walked to my room, shut the door, and lay back on the bed. Eyes closed, I explored my body. The familiar touch of my own fingers calmed me, and I tried to banish all unwanted thoughts. Tried not to think about how different the Lord Commander’s touch felt. Not to let his face appear in my mind’s eye. Not to speculate on what he planned for later. It didn’t work—the thoughts swirled anyway. A gentle climax—sweet relief—spread through me, and I lay still for a long time, emotions a mess. Guilt, like a blanket of fog, pressed me down until I forced myself into the shower.

Hunger prodded me to venture out. No room service. Hardly fair. Whispers swelled and surrounded me as I walked in search of Helen’s favorite restaurant. I set my shoulders back, eyes dead forward, and tried to ignore the inches of exposed skin above my knee and the way my shirt clung to my chest. My heart leapt as I reached the entrance and spied Helen, alone, with a full plate of food. A friend to talk to? I paused before going in. A little too convenient? Had the Lord Commander instructed Helen to wait for me, in the most likely place I’d go, to spy on me? No. Paranoia wouldn’t help my situation.

Helen caught my eye and waved me over with a broad smile. “Come, sit.” She gestured at a breakfast buffet laden with dozens of choices. “They’ve got a great selection this morning, the chalaati eggs are the best.”

More weird mage food. I weathered a glare from the black-clad proprietor and chose a mix of fruit, including a bowl of the berries from my first night. They’d tasted delicious, despite the circumstances. Helen frowned at my plate as I sat. “Is that it? Not hungry?”

The motherly disapproval in her voice brought a smile to my lips. “I’m in the mood for something fresh. Breakfast in prison was greasy eggs, every day. I don’t think I’ll ever want to eat another.”

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