Page 97 of Deviant

“You’re confusing her, Magnus,” he says. “Poor thing barely has enough capacity left to do anything but just breathe after what you’ve done...”

“I’m not so stupid as all that.” I hiss and then my eyes widen. Fear takes over. My entire body starts to shake because I’ve done it, I’ve let the old me out. Will there be repercussions to this? Will he return me again to that padded cell?

But I swear Magnus’s eyes sparkle with delight. He takes another sip.

“And here I was worried all those sharp edges were gone for good,” he says in an almost seductive tone.

My skin erupts into goosebumps. My body squirms and it takes everything I have to keep myself still. To keep myself compliant.

“Yes, yes,” Conrad drawls, waiving a knife lazily with his hand. “We all see what a great pet she is. But we’re not talking about your whore, are we? We’re talking about me, about my cursed fiancée…”

Magnus gets to his feet like he’s suddenly outraged. “You’re a grown man,” he spits. “I’m tired of having this conversation with you. I’m tired of wiping your arse, of cleaning up your messes, of carrying you…”

“I can look after myself thank you very much…” Conrad snaps back, slamming his fist onto the table and half the crockery around us jumps.

“This is your last warning.” Magnus continues as if his brother hasn’t even spoken. “Marry Giselle Monclere. Do as your family commands. Or you will no longer be a member of this family.”

“What?”

Magnus draws himself up, and then he’s clicking his fingers, summoning me to his side.

I immediately drop my cutlery, slip from my chair, and move to obey him.

He grasps my wrist in his hand, firm, but not enough to hurt.

“You heard me,” he says to Conrad. “You either marry that woman or you’ll have nothing.”

“You can’t…”

His angry words follow us out of the room.

I half expect him to follow, to chase after Magnus and argue more, but as the door slams shut behind us, an almost reassuring peace lingers in the hallway.

Magnus stares down at me and that strange intimacy we now have, makes me uneasy.

I open my mouth to speak, to want to clarify what I said, to justify it, to explain that I maybe obedient, but I am not a damned walkover either.

But the look on Magnus’s face silences me. He seems far too riled up in this moment to even contemplate such a discussion.

His hand is still firmly gripping my wrist and he starts walking again, picking up speed as if he’s in a hurry to be somewhere.

I expect us to turn left, to head down the corridor and to where our room is but we don’t. Instead, we go right, out through the main gallery and down the grand stone steps onto the veranda.

A cool wind once more sweeps about me. The smell of jasmine fills my nose. I don’t know why we’re back in the gardens, but I’m not complaining. Though I haven’t earned this reward, I’ll welcome it all the same. And besides, it feels like we could both do with some fresh air.

My eyes dart up to look at him and I can see the strain in his eyes.

“You’re angry.” I half-whisper.

His head turns, snapping to look at me. For a second, I think he might just lose his temper, revert back to hurting me, but to my surprise he seems to soften just a little. Those deadly eyes seem to calm a tiny bit.

“It doesn’t matter right now,” he murmurs.

“No?” I persist, though God only knows why.

“No,” he replies before loosening his grip, all but encouraging me to walk on, as if he wants some thinking space.

I take the hint and don’t look back, putting enough distance between us to give him what he wants.

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