Chapter 15 #2
The Praetor stood by the window with a leather-bound history book open in his hands.
His sand-blond hair gleamed in the morning light, and the golden ring at his lip caught my eye before the chain stretched across his chest did, a coin at its center bearing the curled serpent of the Imperator.
He looked up and flashed a radiant smile.
Once, I had thought him handsome. How na?ve I had been.
“Miss Greenwillow,” he said, tilting his head. “Or may I call you Valentina?”
“Lord Praetor.” I inclined my head. “You may.”
“How are you faring in the Ludaryn? Marcus speaks highly of your abilities—says your skills do not disappoint.” He closed the book with a harsh thud. “Though he also mentioned that, for the moment, you are assigned to Vayren Thanor, even though I’d specifically told him to have you remain unbound.”
“Against my wishes,” I said calmly, “but out of necessity. Cassius was murdered, and Kharos accepted me when he would accept no one else. There was no other option.”
This was my opening. I softened my voice, letting it roughen slightly. “I must admit… it’s dreadful here. You know I’m not of age yet to be a Bondward.” I moved closer. “The men here are not like the golden-pierced. They’re rough. Heavy.”
Not like you. “I’m glad to see you. Perhaps… you can help me,” I said.
I watched him closely. Waiting. He took me in, pausing at my leather-covered breasts long enough to make my skin crawl before returning to my face.
Satisfaction flickered across his expression as he stepped closer.
He pulled out a chair and sat, then patted his thigh in invitation—almost fatherly in its gesture.
It made me want to retch. But I needed this. For Elion, I would endure worse.
I let a faint blush rise before lowering myself onto his lap, my legs brushing the bare skin of his thigh beneath the leather flaps of his war skirt.
Every instinct in me recoiled, but I remained where I was as he inhaled against my hair, his breath shallow and pleased.
Then he drew back and opened his hand. A bundle of silk rested in his palm, folded with care. Just like the rose.
“For you,” he said smoothly. “The rose was not enough to show you my affection. Take it.”
I unfolded the silk despite my trembling hands. Nestled within lay a golden pendant, warm in hue, suspended from a delicate chain that caught the light and scattered it in fine, glittering sparks.
“This suits you perfectly. The gem is preserved as it was found—untouched.” His breath brushed my cheek. “Like you.”
Its red glow flickered against the gold, and I forced myself not to recoil.
“Allow me.”
He moved my hair aside, and goosebumps rose along my skin. Not like with Thanor. This was revulsion. The chain was cold against my throat as he fastened it. His hands remained on my shoulders. Then he leaned close, murmuring in my ear.
“It is a gesture of my intent. I would like to court you.”
I inhaled sharply. “Lord Prae-”
“Decimus,” he interjected. “It would please me greatly… if you called me Decimus.”
“Decimus,” I whispered, my gaze dropping to the pendant at my throat. “I am honored you would offer me a token of your affection. Truly.” I gave him a small, innocent smile. “But I fear it is misplaced.”
I let my hands fumble as I continued. “You are married. You are a Praetor. I am only a Bondward—one not even of age yet.”
The words landed exactly as intended. I felt him harden beneath me. I closed my eyes as my breakfast threatened to rise. Endure. Just a little longer.
His hand slid around me, settling at the pendant. Possessive. Certain. The press of his arousal heavy against my backside.
“You’re right,” he murmured. “But Aelia doesn’t satisfy me. I’m certain you will. I’ll teach you everything you need to know to please me.”
His grip tightened. The room seemed to close in.
“I would like to offer you a position within one of my villas,” he continued, his hand drifting beneath my leathers, brushing the underside of my breast.
That was enough. I wouldn’t let it go further.
I couldn’t. I caught his hand and guided it down into my lap, covering it with my own and squeezing.
To him, it would seem like an invitation.
In truth, it was the only way I’d be able to maintain the facade.
If he touched my bare skin again, I would lose control of my stomach.
He smiled at the contact, satisfied. “Will you be my official mistress? You would be safe within my walls—removed from monsters like Vayren. You would lack for nothing. Protection, comfort, security.” His thumb stroked my hand where I held him. “I ask only your obedience in return.”
His arousal pressed insistently against me. Refusal wouldn’t end this cleanly. Not this time.
“How would you answer such an offer?” he whispered, pressing his nose to my hair.
I rose slowly from his lap and lowered myself to my knees before him, the movement deliberate, submissive. The sight pleased him—I saw it in the glint of his eyes, in the way he leaned forward.
“It is… a generous offer,” I said carefully, my fingers closing around the pendant at my throat. “And I would be foolish not to acknowledge what is happening between us. Nor the safety and comfort you offer.”
“Not only safety and comfort, Valentina,” he said, his voice thickening. “Pleasure as well.”
“You know I have no experience,” I whispered. “So I ask you… let us take this slowly.”
I held his stare.
“On my terms.”
Before he could respond, I stepped forward and pressed a brief, chaste kiss to his cheek. Calculated. Controlled. Offering him just enough.
He groaned, his hands gripping my shoulders roughly, drawing a gasp from me. He turned, angling for my mouth—
I slipped back before he could take it.
He was fully aroused now. Exactly where I needed him.
“There is something I require. Sooner rather than later, if possible. I have received no word of my uncle. I am… deeply worried. Marcus insists I may only see him once he has recovered, but I cannot wait in ignorance.” My voice faltered. “I need to see him. With my own eyes.”
“Do you think,” I whispered, “that a man of your position could make such a thing possible?”
His expression shifted immediately—ego swelling, eager to step into the role I’d offered him.
My plan settled into place as he assured me he would do everything within his power to arrange it.
Gently, he lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to it, holding my gaze. He seemed composed, almost gentlemanly.
But I knew better. The message beneath his words was clear.
If he succeeded, he would expect something in return.
He reminded me of an eel—sleek, patient, living up to his name.
Slithering forward with honeyed words, searching for purchase.
A man unaccustomed to refusal, certain that persistence and power would secure whatever he desired.
“Thank you… Decimus,” I said, lowering my eyes before looking back up through my lashes. “My gratitude would be… overflowing.”
A breath left him as he stepped closer, his voice a whisper against my ear. “You are very welcome, Valentina. I expect we will see much more of each other in the future. This relationship will prove very fruitful, I’m certain.” His fingers brushed my cheek before he strode toward the door.
At the threshold, he paused without looking back. “Do remain unclaimed, Valentina. I’d hate for anyone to sully what I have set aside for myself.”
Moments later, the door closed behind him with a soft, damning click.
Only then did I exhale. My pulse still hammered beneath my skin as I sank to the floor, the strength leaving my limbs all at once.
I cried. Quietly at first, then without restraint.
This place. Elion had been right. It was changing me.
I was adapting, yes—but not without cost. I was slipping further and further from myself, surrendering things I’d once sworn never to lose. My integrity. My pride.
I dragged a hand across my face, wiping away the tears before they could fall. Slowly, I pushed myself back to my feet, forcing the emotions down until they dulled into something manageable—a tight knot in my throat, a steady ache beneath my ribs. Something I could carry.
When I returned to the courtyard, the feeling inside me was… divided. There was victory in it. Small, but mine. I’d achieved what I set out to do. But I had paid for it. Something had shifted. Something in me I wouldn’t be able to reclaim.
The Empire wasn’t built to sustain us. It was built to break us—to strip away resistance piece by piece until submission felt inevitable.
I couldn’t let that happen. I would see Elion.
Hear his counsel. Anchor myself in something that still felt true.
Before I lost sight of it entirely. And when he was strong enough, we would leave Caelora together.
But before I could commit to that path, I needed to see for myself whether he could still stand beside me when the moment came.
The sun was setting when I stepped on the sand once more.
Talia and Jorius waved me over, grins on their faces.
Tavin was called inside as I passed him.
He strode past without a glance, ignoring my greeting.
It didn’t faze me. Knowing you’d be facing Decimus would make no one eager.
Except maybe Cassara. Or Aelia. As my thoughts drifted toward them, mercifully, they were cut short.
“What’s that?” Talia asked, her ebony locs brushing her bare arms as she nodded toward my chest. “Looks valuable. Want to wager it next time there’s a match?”
“Don’t listen to her,” Jorius muttered. “She always wins.”
“Don’t you forget it, Harvan.” She patted his back before turning back to me, her expression shifting. “Are you alright?”
I gave her a small smile.
“Yes. The interrogation… I was just thinking about who could have murdered Nexra and Cassius. Whether the Praetor is clever enough to find the killer.”