Page 15 of Shadowbound

“Thank you. But true wisdom is knowing your limitations,” I tell him. “Especially when it comes to magic. Now come—help me disrobe.”

His eyes get wide again as he sees me gesturing.

“Uh…you want me to take your clothes off?”

“You’re my Blood-servant—or you will be once you take your oath,” I remind him. “A good Blood-servant not only protects his Mistress, he serves her as well. You will help me dress every morning and disrobe every night. And though tonight I will wash you, in the future, you will be tending to my needs in the bath.”

He still seems uncertain of what to do and I remind myself again that he’s a virgin. Despite his age and his size and strength, no woman has ever been able to touch him without getting burned by his untamed power.

I show him how to unclasp the hooks and eyes at the back of my gown and where to hang it on the rack by the wall when I step out of it. Beneath it I am wearing a black corset and tiny lacy panties to match. I also have on sheer stockings held up by the garter belt around my waist.

“Help me out of my corset,” I command and Alaric is quick to obey. His long fingers are surprisingly nimble as he unlaces me and pulls the garment from my body, baring my breasts.

He stares for a moment, then looks away, his cheeks stained red.

“No, Alaric,” I chide him gently. Reaching up, I turn his face towards me again. “You can look, remember?” I tell him.

His eyes rake over my body hungrily, taking in my full breasts with their dark nipples and wide areolas. They’re already tight and tingly and my pussy is also growing wet—I enjoy being admired and it’s clear that my new Blood-servant likes what he sees.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says hoarsely.

This time I don’t correct his crude language.

“Thank you,” I tell him. “Now be careful of my clothing and help me remove my stockings.”

I take good care of my things because everything I wear is ridiculously expensive. My clothing is all hand-made by the tiny, cunning fingers of the fabric fairies who live in the north of Nocturna. We High Borns share Fey blood with them—hence our pale, delicate features, slightly pointed ears, and glowing eyes. But we alone among the denizens of Nocturna have fangs.

Mine are itching now as I watch Alaric kneel, naked at my feet, to assist in peeling down my stockings. It’s been so long since I had a sip of blood, but I sense he’s not ready for that yet. He is serving me beautifully, though—I didn’t even have to ask him to kneel—he went to his knees before me of his own volition.

“That’s very good, my Paladin,” I say gently, stroking his bristly cheek. I’ll have to shave him too but I think I shall leave his hair long rather than cutting it. It falls to his shoulders in thick, golden-brown profusion which frames and softens his strong features.

“May I…” He clears his throat. “Should I take off your, er, underthings too, my Lady?”

There is a blush on his high cheekbones as he asks and I catch a thought from him, since I am still wearing the Jewel of Knowing. He’s thinking again of that priestess who made him kneel to press his face between her thighs when he’d been “naughty” as a young man. He’s remembering her scent…and wishing he could press his face between my thighs to scent me as well.

Well, he’ll get his chance, but not quite yet.

“Yes, you may help me out of my things,” I tell him. “But remember, Alaric—I may touch any part of your body at any time that I wish. However, you may not touch or taste me without permission. Do you understand?”

“Taste you?” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple moving in his strong throat.

“Why yes, my Paladin. Eventually, you will be allowed to taste me.”

I stroke his cheek again, amused by his eagerness and the powerful surge of desire I feel coming from him. He longs to serve a woman with his tongue—I can hear him thinking it. But it’s considered blasphemy in Solaris and of course, it’s always been impossible for him…until now. He couldn’t touch anyone without burning them.

“When?” he asks, his voice a low, hungry growl. “When can I taste you, Mistress?”

“Later,” I say firmly. “For now, help me out of my panties so that we may enter the bath.”

Carefully, almost reverently, he slips his big fingers into the wispy fairy-lace and pulls them down my hips and thighs. As my neatly trimmed triangle of curls becomes visible, I see his blue eyes go heavy-lidded with lust.

“Gods, Mistress—you’re fucking gorgeous,” he growls. Impulsively, I think, he leans forward to press his face between my thighs.

At once, I call my shadows. They wrap around his chest and arms, holding him back. He looks up at me, his vision blurred with lust and desire.

“Why…what are you doing?”

“Remember that you may not touch or taste me without permission,” I tell him sternly. This is the first and most important lesson he must learn. I am in control here—he must not forget it.

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