Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
The tray of food sat untouched at the little table by the window.
The steam had long since cooled, curling into nothing.
Chloe had brought the food not long after I'd informed her I wouldn't be going down for breakfast. Her face had pinched together in worry as she was very aware that I had skipped dinner the previous night.
My stomach growled, but the knot of nerves inside me was too tight to let me even consider lifting the lid.
So instead, I sat curled in the chair, arms locked around my knees, watching the soft rain bead against the glass. Every path of thought ended in confusion.
The kiss.
The revelations.
The impossible promise.
The two men who seemed to want me. And each other.
A sharp knock startled me upright. That did not sound like Chloe's timid rap.
Before I could answer, the door eased open and Leighton stepped inside. For the first time since I met him, he didn't have an easy smile on his face. The stark scar stood out on the harsher expression, only enhancing his attractive features.
His eyes flicked straight to my untouched tray and I watched with fascination as his jaw ticked.
"Lisa," he said gently, but there was steel threaded through it. "You've not eaten a bite."
I lowered my gaze and shrugged.
He crossed the room in three strides and sat down on the armrest of the matching settee. "Lisa. I expect an answer."
I looked at him, feeling a part of me push up. A part I'd tried to suppress most of my life.
"You didn't actually ask me a question, Leighton."
He scowled, his eyes sparking. "Care to tell me why you're not eating?"
Again, I shrugged. "You know full well why I'm not eating. I can't."
He crossed his arms in front of him, his gaze focused on me. "You can, and you will. Don't make me treat you like a sulky child."
My head snapped up, bristling. "I'm not a child." I felt anger slowly bubbling to the surface. It was their fault I felt like this. Their fault I couldn't even stomach the thought of some plain toast with all the nerves and confusion running through me.
"No," he agreed, crouching so that his eyes were in line with mine.
The sudden closeness stole the air from my lungs.
His voice dropped, steady and firm. " You’re not a child.
You're a young woman who's been through too much, too quickly.
You lost your parents, your home, and your livelihood all in less than a year.
It's completely understandable to shut down.
But I won't have you starve yourself, Lisa. Not when you belong here. Not when you belong to me. To us.”
My breath caught. "Leighton..."
His hand brushed over mine, warm and grounding. "Magnus and I... We'll give you time to think. We'll give you the space you need. But don't test us on this. You'll eat. Even if I have to hold you down so Magnus can force feed you.”
The words were simple, yet there was something else in them. Not anger. More like a quiet authority that wrapped around me.
He wasn't wrong. There was no point in starving myself. But I'd be damned if I just gave in easily. "Whatever you say, Captain," I snarked, bitingly.
He looked at me, his mouth tipping up in the beginning of a smile before responding. "No need to be so formal, little girl. Daddy will do."
And then he walked out of the room.
What on earth did he just say to me?
And why did it affect me so?
My heart raced, my breath caught in my throat, and I felt a deep ache between my legs. An ache that I was starting to think they would be able to help me with.
Daddy.
The word echoed through me, hot and humiliating and thrilling all at once. He couldn't have meant it the way my mind leapt to interpret it. Surely not.
It was just a tease.
Right?
And yet, my pulse wouldn't slow. My thighs pressed together, shamefully seeking friction that wasn't there.
I shoved away from the chair and paced the room, tugging at the sleeves of my gown. If I thought sleep had been impossible the night before, it was hopeless now. Every nerve in my body felt alive, every thought knotted between desire and disbelief.
When the next knock came, I nearly tripped over my own feet.
The door opened before I had time to gather myself, and Magnus stepped in. He didn't bother with permission. Of course not.
Magnus strode into my room as though it were his by right, his eyes cutting immediately to me.
"Not you, too," I bit out. "Leighton just left. He's already given me my orders."
Magnus moved closer, his stride slow, predatory. "Is that really the tone you want to use with me, love?"
I scowled. "Is now truly the time to come in here and give me more reasons to run away?"
He glowered, and I could swear there was a growl in it.
Why on earth was that so attractive?
When he spoke again, his voice was deceptively low and calm, the kind of calm that prickled over my skin like static. "Love, do you remember what I told you at the stables?"
I kept my chin lifted, refusing to answer.
"That's fine. I'll remind you." He leaned against the wall, looking perfectly at ease, though every line of him radiated a calm control. "A horse, especially a wild one, needs a firm hand. They need to be reined in and shown who their master is. They need to be broken in."
My heart hammered.
"Dear girl," he continued, his eyes narrowing with dangerous amusement. "I've plenty of experience showing a wild filly who's master, bringing them to heel. I've made an art form of it."
I lifted my chin higher, defiant, pretending to be much braver than I truly felt.
The cad smirked, as if he'd been waiting for it.
"I've never lost against a wild horse before," he said, each word deliberate.
"And taming them? That was just a hobby.
You—" He pushed off the wall, closing the space between us with grace and ease.
"You are so much more than a simple hobby.
Which is why I'll never let you get out of hand. And I'll certainly never let you run."
Magnus's words lingered in the air.
I swallowed, hating the way it made my pulse race and how I felt itchy all over with how he was watching me.
"So," I said, my voice rougher than I intended. "Would you expect me to call you Daddy, too?" I wanted to get a reaction out of him, and perhaps establish if Leighton was being serious.
For the first time, Magnus stilled. His jaw flexed, his eyes darkening until they were nearly black.
"Expect?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble that made my stomach flip.
"No, little filly. I don't expect." He lifted his hand, brushing a knuckle down the side of my cheek.
his touch feather-light and terrifying in its restraint. "I demand."
My breath caught, and his mouth curved into a wicked smile.
"When you're writhing beneath me, begging for more," Magnus whispered, his lips close enough that his breath ghosted over my skin, "You'll call me whatever I tell you to. And trust me, you'll like it."
Heat flushed through me, shame and desire colliding in a dizzying rush.
He tipped my chin up with two fingers, forcing me to meet his eyes. "But don't mistake me for Leighton. He might coax you into obedience with charm and promises of reward." His smirk deepened. "I break disobedience. I take it and turn it into devotion. You'll learn the difference soon enough."
And then he picked up my cold tray, and walked to the door. "Chloe will be bringing you a fresh meal. I'll expect your plate to be emptied or I'll be forced to bring you to hand."
With those parting words, he left.
So much for giving me space.