Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
J ust when I’ve got used to how things work around here, everything changes. Andothair and I no longer speak as often as we used to. For starters, I’ve irritated him (husband’s ex-boyfriends can be so fickle). Honestly, it’s not like I knew he and Corrik were an item. I don’t see why I get all the flack.
Bayaden is, well he’s still Bayaden, but he’s Bayaden infatuated with Tristan and that’s different somehow. I can’t say he’s nice, but he’s softer. He still orders me around like a servant because I am his servant, but I’ve become more important to him. I’ve gained status and am ignored rather than scorned or beaten; no one touches me now. Lutheran and Siagin give me looks that say they would like to have another go at me, but even they steer clear.
“What’s wrong with you?” Bayaden says from beside me.
“Nothing, I’m thinking.”
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
I try to push him with my foot; it’s like pushing stone, but he takes it as an invitation to roll so he’s half on top of me and traces my abs with his finger. He’s tender and contemplative. I’m nervous when he gets like this. He tends to admit to the things he’s feeling in these moments and I’d rather he didn’t. It’s less real when he says nothing and easier to pretend our relationship is the same as before.
“Tristan?”
“Yes, m’lord,” I say in a lazy accent, hoping to knock him out of his serious thoughts. It doesn’t work. He gives me an annoyed look; I clear my throat. “Sorry.”
“I want to say something to you.”
I sit up. “Don’t. Don’t say anything Bayaden, just, take me. Please?” Sex is always a good distraction with Bayaden, with any Elf for that matter.
He stares at me for a long time and if I didn’t know him better, I would think I saw a glimmer of sadness in his eyes. But I do know him better and he doesn’t get sad. In any case it’s gone by the time I’ve blinked.
“As you wish, Tristan.” He buries his face into my neck, kissing it, worshiping it and without words he gets to say what he wanted.
Could I have fallen in love with a man like Bayaden, once upon a time, if I was given the choice?
I moan when he sucks my navel and arch my back and reach out and pull him closer. He does take me, several times and when he’s finished, I can’t move. He falls asleep with one hand protectively on my chest like he’s afraid I’ll leave him in the night.
T he morning sun is hot as it rises and wakes me. I’m still in Bayaden’s bed. Moving is stiff from three days ago and the pain reminds me of the markings on my back. Bayaden’s asleep and rolled off me during the night; he’s on the other side of the bed. I slide off, slip into my pants and out the door. They don’t wear shoes here, not around the palace at least. They’re less polished than the Elves of Mortouge, but I think the no-shoe thing is more to do with the heat.
I begin with the plan to fetch the Warlord his breakfast but can’t help myself and get pulled outside. It’s quiet in the morning, except for the roosters. I sit on the steps and watch the sun finish its ascent and think on what I’ll do next. Andothair still plans on attacking Mortouge because of a broken heart. The king allows it because he either desires Mortouge for himself (Andothair’s broken heart is convenient for him) or he likes to spoil his children like the Mortougian king does. Diekin is still a prisoner, and I must get him out. I thought I only had one way, using my dragon blood if I had to, but if I do, Tristan the human would be no more.
But now, there’s this new thing with Bayaden. Perhaps there’s a way of stopping this war without my death. I sit a long time thinking about everything and the sun is well into the sky when I hear a voice.
“Something on your mind, young Warlord?”
“Yes, I was just thinking of you actually.”
“Well, you’d better start thinking of what you are going to say to my brother. He’s got his men out looking for you. You are lucky I agreed to join the foray and have found you first,” Andothair says.
“Why would he be looking for me? I’ve only gone to get him his breakfast as I do every morning.”
“Breakfast has long passed,” he says laughing.
“Long passed? Damn. I’ve been out here too long.” I stand to leave but there’s something I’ve got to say before I miss my chance. “Andothair—I’m sorry. I didn’t know about you and Corrik.”
“My quarrel is with Corrik. I should not have tried to kill you.”
“Or hold me prisoner or give me to your brother as a love slave or start a war with Mortouge. In the least, you should’ve told me he still lives.”
His face hardens. “I regret nothing. And besides, your life is here now, Warlord. It’s easier to think of him as dead, is it not?”
I’m not answering that. “Move on. The war is unnecessary; innocent people will die, Andothair, people who have nothing to do with our ridiculous love triangle.”
“When he’s got nothing left, he’ll see how I feel.”
“It doesn’t work like that, Andothair. Let it go. ”
“It’s not so simple, young Warlord.”
“Then let Diekin go.”
“Bartering for your friend’s freedom?”
“Is that on the table?”
“You make my brother happy, and you’ve upheld your end of the bargain, but Diekin is to ensure you will continue to do so. What would I have if he were gone?”
“You will have my word. I will swear it on the heart of Markaytia. A Markaytian is only as good as his word.”
He shakes his head. “I will require something more binding than that. A magical contract.”
I’ll do it, I’ll do anything that gets Diekin out of here, but there’s one problem. “I’m already magically bound to Corrik.”
“What nonsense are you chattering about?”
“On our wedding night when we consummated our marriage, Corrik said we’d be bonded by flesh and by magic.” I no longer bat an eyelash at talking about sex.
Andothair bursts into rancorous laughter, mocking me. “Oh, Warlord, you really had me for a second there.”
I wait silently, expecting he’ll explain if only he can stop laughing long enough.
“Stop looking at me like that and you sound ridiculous. Bonded by flesh and magic … that is not a real bonding, not for you anyway. You are a human; you cannot bond to an Elf by flesh.”
“Corrik seemed pretty confident about it.”
“Corrik is Corrik. He believes far too much in prophecy and therefore the visions he has had of you—he thinks that since it was written in the stars for the two of you to be together so is everything that goes with that. I know better. Only Elves can bond by flesh, therefore Corrik has bonded with you, but you couldn’t possibly bond with him in the way another Elf would.”
“I heard thunder in my head when it happened—that’s got to mean something. Maybe we can’t bond like an Elf and an Elf are meant to, but what about the magic part? ”
“Thunder in your head you say? I am sure that was just your shoddy human brain malfunctioning,” he says, laughing at his own joke. “A bonding by magic during a wedding consummation is not a real thing, it is more of a, what do you Markaytians call it? Oh yes, an old wife’s tale. If only Elves could command sex magic in such a way.”
“It’s, old wives’ tale,” I correct him. I’m tired of being insulted by him for being human.
“What do you know of magic anyway, Warlord? The magic of humans died well before your time.”
“Corrik said new magic can be created.”
“Indeed. That much is true, but like I said, Corrik believes far too many outrageous things about magic, figures he would be arrogant enough to think he could command the Sex Gods to do whatever he pleased.”
Bloody hypocrite. Corrik is arrogant to be sure, but Andothair talks like he’s not. “Well, let’s just say he can, and I am bonded to him by flesh in the way Elves are meant to bond and the old wives’ tale isn’t a tale and so the magic thing has worked too, what then? Won’t that interfere with whatever it is you want to do to me?”
Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up, maybe my being bonded to Corrik will null whatever he wants to do to me, but there’s also the chance it could rip me apart. Andothair is right on one count, I don’t know much about magic, or Elves. My lack of knowledge creates in my mind all the outrageous possibilities of what could happen, things that most likely defy common sense.
“Not to worry, Warlord. Elven bonding is a natural thing and is as polyamorous as we can be. Hypothetically, if you did bond with Corrik, you could still bond with another.”
“This makes the ‘bond’ sound meaningless. What’s the point of bonding if you can bond with as many people as you like?”
“It is not meaningless. The whole point of bonding is to create some form of unbreakable connection. When Elves mate, they mate for life and it connects them in a way that is above and beyond mere human bonding. An Elf will crave his mate or mates like no other and can become possessive, especially when the bond is first formed—that is part of mating—I would not expect a human to understand. And while each Dominant Elf is different in how he conducts his relationship with his mate, one thing is consistent: they both feel they own each other—something that gets stronger over time.”
“Even the submissive mate?”
“Of course, even the submissive mate,” he says like I’ve been living under a rock. “Submissive doesn’t mean pushover, submissives feel very possessive over their Dominant.”
“Your bond to him still exists, doesn’t it?”
“You are smart for a human; I’ll give you that.”
I don’t expect that information to cut me like it does. Corrik’s lived a long time, I’ve known he wasn’t a virgin since before our wedding day (like he hypocritically expected me to be), but hearing Andothair say they’ve mated feels different to me. My dragon’s blood boils, but then I remember this is Andothair I’m talking to and he’s probably lying.
“Calm down,” he says when he sees I’m about to break something. “I am not Corrik’s mate, he has taken you as his mate. Yet my bond with him still exists because I have bonded with him . He has never bonded with me. This means we have mated in the biological sense of the word, but not in the other sense.”
“That can happen?”
“Obviously.” He’s beginning to get annoyed with my ignorance.
“Well, there must be some consequence for stealing another’s mate,” I say.
He continues to look at me like I’m the stupidest person alive.
“Let me guess, stealing a mate can result in death.” Which is why he said he couldn’t help himself wanting to kill me.
“You got it, Warlord. Stealing a mate is not illegal, but it is frowned upon. In most cases, it is almost impossible to break up Elves who have mated, but since you are human, it was no trouble for me at all. ”
“Good for you. But even if all you say is true, while I may not have the strength or power to fight you, Corrik does and he’s going to kill you.”
“Do not worry about me, Warlord. I have an offer he can’t refuse.” His eyes are saying something I can’t decipher. Whatever his plan is, he’s not concerned with Corrik finding him. “Anyway, the enchantment I have in mind is of a different nature and would not interfere with a bond of flesh or of magic—I am not preposterous enough to think I can command Sex Gods. Humans cannot bond with Elves,” he scoffs again in case I didn’t hear him the first fifty times.
And I would roll my eyes at him, except, I think that some form of bonding has happened between me and Corrik. No, I’m not as possessive over Corrik as Corrik seems to be of me or Andothair over Corrik, but perhaps that’s the part where my being a human comes into play. Maybe the bond simply didn’t take as intensely.
But I do have dragon in my blood and that means at least a small inkling of magic, perhaps it even makes me part creature. Maybe the bond was able to take hold in some capacity.
“I’m not convinced, Ando. Tell me more about this old wives’ tale.”
“You are quite demanding for a little human,” Andothair says. “Lucky for you, you amuse me. It is said that once, an Elf long ago, asked the Sex Gods to bind his betrothed to him since, like you, his betrothed was a human. The Elf wasn’t content with a simple bonding by flesh, of course, he wanted his intended to fall in love with him. He prayed to the Sex Gods to make it so. When the Gods refused him, he found a way to command their powers on his wedding night. Each time they had sex, his betrothed fell more in love with him,” he pauses. “What’s the matter, Warlord? You have gone white.”
The legend sounds too much like my own story for my liking, and I can’t speak. Corrik wouldn’t make me fall in love with him, would he ?
“It’s just a myth, Warlord. The enchantment the Elf wanted is a love spell, which is why the Gods refused to grant his request. No one can evoke a love spell like that. Not even the great, Corrik Cyredanthem.”
I’m not so sure. My heart beats faster.
“Bet you wish you could unhear that, eh?”
“Whatever. It’s as you said, a myth. It isn’t real.” I don’t want to hear any more of this story.
“It is not real. The enchantment I will use on you; however, is very much real.”
“Do you plan for me to become a mindless, sex slave?”
“You are already a mindless sex slave,” he says, laughing. “No. This enchantment will not damage your mind—Baya would be extremely displeased if I were to do that. The enchantment will make you feel loyal to him.”
That doesn’t sound so bad—it’s already somewhat true and I seem more compelled to please him each day.
Sadness washes over me. I’ve fallen in love with Corrik, but not really, only because he performed Elven love voodoo. Andothair may not believe it happened, but I do. I heard the thunder. The sadness is quickly replaced by anger and my dragon blood rages.
“I’ll do it Ando. I’ll give myself to your brother—gladly.”
“All right then. We shall talk details later. You had better go,” he says. “You’re already in for a decent spanking as it is.”
“Ando, can’t you talk to him? Tell him I was out here with you?”
“I could, but I’m not going to.”
Of all the nerve. I stalk off to get Bayaden his breakfast, which has now become his brunch, figuring it’s better not to show up empty handed. I don’t make it to the kitchens; I’m accosted by two of Bayaden’s men immediately upon entering the palace. They take pleasure in dragging me up to Bayaden’s chambers and tossing me inside.
“Bayaden told us to tell you to stay here if we should find you,” he says. They both delight in my dilemma. They know Bayaden is going to kill me. At least they leave me be, without roughing me up. When I turn toward the room, I see it’s a total disaster.
The entire room has been ransacked. Blankets, pillows, even Bayaden’s beloved books are scattered all ‘round the room. Whole wardrobes are turned on their sides with the clothes ripped out of them. The table is not where it’s meant to be, and the chairs have been thrust at odd angles throughout his chambers. Stunned, I sit down on my mattress which is not where it’s meant to be either and wait.
Bayaden returns and stands in the doorway, angry. His look alone could boil water and says explain.
“Bayaden, I only went to get breakfast, I—”
“—where is this breakfast you speak of?”
I scratch the back of my neck under his gaze which reminds me too much of Father when he was displeased with me. “I got distracted. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“You should’ve told me where you were going.”
“You don’t usually care.” I don’t mean to say it. I’m just trying to get myself out of trouble, but now I’ve gone and thrown down a gauntlet. I run a hand through my hair, frustrated. He takes long, quick strides toward me and wraps me in his large arms. I feel the strength of his embrace, he’s grateful I’ve returned. His head is tucked into my neck, and I can feel his hot breath on my ear as he breathes. “I thought you were gone.”
“Is that why your room is a disaster?”
He nods into my neck. Stupid, hot-tempered, Elves.
I know in that moment it’s gone too far with Bayaden. We’ve said nothing to each other, but we don’t need to. I’m forced to admit to myself that there’s chemistry between us and it’s not just one-sided. I care about Bayaden. Perhaps not to the extent he cares about me, but enough I should be honest with him and with myself.
I try to pull away, but he won’t allow it. “Bayaden, I’ve just made a pledge to your brother. ”
He rips away from me, a fierce expression on his face like he’s about to hunt down his brother.
“Not that kind of pledge, Bayaden, listen.”
He doesn’t respond, but nods at me to speak, warning me with his eyes to choose my words carefully. “I’ve told him I’m going to stay with you and to prove my word true, I’m to enter a magically binding contract.”
“I don’t see why you would need to enter such a contract. You’re already mine, of course you’re going to stay with me.”
I look toward the destruction that is now his room. “Yeah, you seem real secure about things between us.”
“Tristan, there is something between us. I can feel it.”
“There is.” The Gods forgive me, there is.
“Then why would you need to make such a pledge?”
“I want Andothair to release Diekin and send him back to Mortouge. I’m willing to trade my person for that, permanently, and remain in your service.”
“If that is what you wish, I will participate, but I do not require it.”
“I don’t wish it either, but your brother requires it. Before anything is done, there’s something you must know.”
“Yes?”
“I love my husband.” I need to admit it out loud, for myself. I’ve never said so to Corrik. Even if it’s false love forged on our wedding night by sex magic, I feel love for him.
“I’m not worried about your affections for Corrik, Tristan,” he laughs. “In time, he will be a memory. I plan to make you forget him quickly.”
I hope he can. Thinking about Corrik hurts.
“I must go,” he says, pulling away. “And you can get to work on all this.” He gestures around the room at the complete travesty it is now.
“Me? You’re the one who destroyed it.”
“Because of you. Clean it up. ”
“Of all the … I have a good mind to—”
“—to what?” he says, whipping around.
“Never mind.”
When he’s gone, I clean. It takes me most of the day until dinner. I leave dinner on the table for Bayaden in no mood to speak with him after a long day cleaning up his mess. I make the trek down to the dungeons to see Diekin instead, not bothering to secure permission from Andothair this time. I’ve been down here enough I figure I can lie about it. I’ve gained certain freedoms in my months in Aldrien.
“What business have you here?” one of the polished guards, Emerick, asks me.
“I’ve permission to seek Diekin.”
He considers me a moment, but as I expect he does not call my bluff. “Proceed, human.”
I take the key and carry on to Diekin’s cell. “Diekin?” He doesn’t look good. It hasn’t been that long since I’ve last seen him, has it?
“Warlord.”
I open the door and hurry to kneel beside him. “Here, I’ve smuggled you in some food.”
“Smuggled?”
“The prince doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Tristan, what are you up to?”
“He’s alive Diekin. Corrik, ” I say with careful excitement.
“I told you. And the others?”
“I don’t know, but there’s something else. I’ve found a way to get you out of here. I don’t know when it will happen but I’ve bargained for your life and when the time comes, you need to go home.”
“You’re not coming, are you?”
I look at my hands. “I’m not.”
“I won’t leave without you.”
“You’re going to die here if you stay, Diekin. Maybe not today, maybe not in a year from now, but you will. I don’t know if I’m going to get another chance like this.”
“Was this your plan all along? ”
“No. Diekin,” I say. “I’m not going to use that plan if I can help it.” If I can’t persuade Andothair to abandon his plans to start war with Mortouge, then I will use my dragon’s blood.
“You’ve traded yourself for me once again, haven’t you?”
“Yes.”
“What have you done?”
“Diekin, listen. My original plan involved my dragon’s blood.”
“Do you have magic, Warlord?”
“Not in the traditional sense, no. I have one power, but if I use that power I’ll die.”
“How could you even think of using such a thing just for me? I know you were, Warlord.”
“I was.”
“What are you up to?”
“Nothing, if I can help it. You need to go back and warn Mortouge that the Rogue Elves are coming.”
“Corrik is going to kill me anyway when I return without you.”
“Then you must explain it to him and make him understand,” I say with a look to match my father’s. He stares at me a long time.
“I see you are coming into your heritage, Warlord.” He sighs as he looks to the ground, resigned to what I’m making him do, but not liking it much. I don’t like seeing that look on him. I miss the Diekin I rode carefree on the bow of the ship with.
“Here, Diekin. Eat.”
“Only if you will eat with me and tell me another story—one of you and Lucca. This might be the last time I see you.”
“Where is your eternal optimism? I might get away yet.”
“You have no intention of returning to Mortouge, Warlord. I know this.”
I won’t lie to him. “No. I already told you. I can never face Corrik or Mortouge again. I only hope I can save Mortouge and that they will still hold alliance with Markaytia.”
“I know the man Corrik is. He will make sure Mortouge’s end of the bargain is held for no other reason than he loves you. ”
“I hoped you’d bring him this.” I reveal the goal of my secret venture, my wedding ring. I found it scattered amongst the wreckage today and I got the idea to do this.
“Take it and tell him I say… tell him I say, hi.”
“Hi?” He laughs and it’s worth me looking foolish.
I can hardly tell Corrik I love him—not when he won’t see me again and not when I suspect him of sex magic. “Yes, hi. Is there a problem with that?”
“No, Warlord,” he still laughs. “It’s just, I thought, well it doesn’t matter what I thought. I will give him the ring and tell him, hi. ”
“Thank you, Diekin.”
“And, Warlord?”
“Yes?”
“You are wrong. You will see Corrik again. I’m going to make sure of it.”
I storm into his chambers; my dragon blood still rages. I didn’t like the look on Diekin’s face, I don’t like what I’ve had to do, I don’t like what I’ll have to do, and I don’t like what I’ve learned about my and Corrik’s union.
Bayaden looks up from his book. He’s not pleased with me upon my return, and I don’t care. I enter and pretend I don’t see him or feel his eyes piercing into me.
“I thought I made it clear you are to tell me where you go?”
“You no longer trust me, m’lord?”
“You’re angry,” he observes.
“I’m not angry. I’m but a lowly manservant here to do your bidding,” I say.
“Bang-up job you do of it.” He turns back to his book. I don’t know if he intends to leave it at that, but I pass by him and wash my face in the bowl across the room .
“Have you eaten?” he asks when I return. I can’t tell him I’ve dined with Diekin. What I ate was meager anyway.
“No.”
“So, you can listen to something I’ve said? I should take my strap to you more often, uh?” I know he doesn’t mean it. It’s his attempt to get me to laugh. “Over there, I’ve left you something.” He looks straight into my eyes. “Eat.”
Too tired to argue, I move to the table and sit down before a plate covered with a lid. I remove the lid to a fancy plate of fruits and cheeses, but in the center is a familiar, circular band, encrusted with emeralds; I reach out to grab it.
“Allow me.” Bayaden is behind me and picks up the ring. He swings out my chair and pulls me to stand.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your bag. I didn’t know I had it until today when I found it amongst my things as I ransacked my quarters. Andothair must’ve placed it in my rooms. I recognized the Markaytian craftsmanship of the dagger and determined that the gold of that ring comes from far away. It’s definitely not Elven and so I knew these things must be yours. Tell me, what is this ring?” he says, studying it.
“It comes from my papa’s homeland. It’s his family ring, he gave it to me when I was a boy.”
“I can tell by the way you speak of him that you and your papa are close.”
“We were.” I watch him spin the ring. “I miss him.”
“There is an inscription inside. Submit to the Heart .”
“Yes. Papa was like me, submissive.” I bow my head, still somewhat ashamed of this knowledge.
He lifts my chin with his thumb and pointer finger. “I’d like you to have this back, Tristan. It will be my apology for making you clean up my mess and a thank you for what you’re doing. You may not love me as you love him, but that makes your actions all the more meaningful.”
“My sacrifice you mean. ”
“Is it a sacrifice if it’s something you give willingly?”
“I … I’m not sure.”
“Look deeper, Tristan. You did it because you value something more than you value yourself.”
I can’t argue with that.
“Here,” he slips the ring on my finger. “I wish I could say I’m sorry for the things I do, but I’m far too selfish. I want you any way I can have you. All I have on offer are apologies you’ll find meaningless, and tokens of my affections you’ll find insincere.”
It’s the first time I’ve let him admit such affections out loud. “Thank you. It means a great deal to have this in my possession again.” I run my finger over the band.
“You need not be ashamed of your papa, Tristan. It’s a great honor to be submissive. Look at my brother. He commands an entire kingdom alongside my father, and he is submissive. He has no trouble telling me what I must do,” he grumbles.
“How does that work, anyway?”
“Submissive does not mean weak. It means great power. Andothair has only ever allowed one to have dominion over him aside from Father.”
“Corrik.”
“Yes. His need for punishment and rules does not mean he’ll allow just anyone to provide that for him.”
“How was he able to discipline me?”
“You could discipline someone too if you chose to. You have arms and a brain, haven’t you?”
“But shouldn’t it go against my nature or his to do so?”
“It will, which is why neither of you would receive much satisfaction in it.”
“Which is why he was quick to relinquish the duties. Why didn’t he tell me?”
“Because he knew you wouldn’t go to him anymore if he told you and he knew you needed it. ”
“Are you trying to tell me he was doing something for my benefit?”
“Why wouldn’t he? Andothair is a good man and would never let a human suffer needlessly. He helped you for as long as he could.”
Right. We’re the equivalent of animals to these Elves. He makes it sound like Andothair is an anti-human cruelty activist. “He tried to kill me,” I remind him.
“He was driven to kill you—he is bonded to Corrik. He didn’t kill you—that’s what matters. It took great strength to stop himself killing you. Don’t you want to do the same to anyone who keeps you from Corrik? Don’t you plan my death each night?”
“No. I’ve no wish to kill you.” I reach out to toy with a lock of his hair. Bayaden is beautiful.
“I am too magnificent to kill.”
He’s trying to make me laugh—Bayaden isn’t usually this soothing—I cut him a quarter smile but say no more to that. I’m breathing hard, the room is spinning a little and I have to hold the table to steady myself. Corrik’s use of sex magic is irrelevant I realize. What I’ve done is worse. I had to marry Corrik either way, his use of magic to make me fall in love with him was a kindness, it made everything easier.
As for me, at first, I did the things I have because I was coerced, but what I’ve been struggling with is how much I enjoy them. I go to Bayaden as willingly as I went to Andothair for punishment. Diekin says Corrik will forgive me, that Elves feel differently than humans, but I am a human and I don’t think it’s okay. I don’t deserve Corrik for that reason and most of all, I don’t deserve him because I do have feelings for Bayaden—real feelings. He does something to me, and I crave him.
Corrik will move on or perhaps return to Andothair’s side. Diekin will be with his mate and Markaytia will have an important ally. Everything will be good.
So why does the thought of it all make me dizzy?
Bayaden puts a strong hand to the side of me that’s not supported by the table. “Especially you, with your Markaytian sense of duty, must realize you did what you had to in order to save your friend. There is only one reason for all of this guilt.”
“I enjoy it, all right? I enjoy when you fuck me.”
“There is something more than fucking. It must be more than fucking. If you won’t be honest with me, at least be honest with yourself. You care for me. Not like you care for Corrik, but enough.”
I’ve already been honest with myself, but I won’t admit it out loud. “Care for you? How could I care for my captor? It’s only the fucking I seek, and my body craves you now. I’m tarnished and it’s too late. I can’t face Corrik ever again.”
“You do care for me though,” he says again. “Otherwise, it wouldn’t matter what your body enjoyed. Rest assured, it isn’t your fault, Tristan. I have magic too you know,” he says with a beaming smile. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, leave that to me.”
I say nothing and glare at him.
He sighs. “Am I going to have to deal with your pouting all night? Or could we put all this energy of yours to other things?”
For once, I do not want sex. “I want to sleep, Bayaden, in my own bed and tomorrow I want to shoot things with arrows.”
“As you wish, Tristan.”