Chapter 8 #2
He doesn’t understand my world, and my attempt to teach him this morning was interrupted before it even began. My new slave has a lot to learn and I need him to learn fast, yet I also feel the need to give him time.
It’s a dilemma.
And I want to resolve it.
If only to end my agony and move on to a different kind of game.
Soren says something and I half-listen, letting his usual dulcet tones take the edge off my irritation. He’s offering a solution and it’ll probably be sensible. It invariably is, and I don’t need to know the details right now.
Not when I need a different kind of distraction.
I nod and give my blessing, and another petitioner steps forward.
We move through court and thankfully, both Soren and Orlith have sensed my mood.
Still, the rest of the audience drags on, an inevitable, endless litany of petty grievances and mundane disputes.
Soren could sort all of this without me, but my presence is reassuring for my kingdom and reinforces my authority and my subjects’ reverence.
While proceedings run efficiently, my patience is threadbare when the last petitioner is dismissed. I have none left for casual talk or light flirtations, or anything else any of the higher members of my court might usually expect from me.
“Court is adjourned,” I declare, rising from my throne and leaving with a reserved for storms that swallow fleets whole, merciless and unrelenting.
The assembled courtiers bow as I leave the room, their murmurs resuming the moment the massive doors close behind me.
I make my way back to my chambers, wandering the corridors that twist like the veins of some ancient beast. The weight of the ocean presses against the palace walls, a constant reminder of the world above and the one I rule below.
When I enter my chambers, the sight that greets me is both amusing and infuriating.
Jude is slumped against the floor, his wrists still chained, but he’s managed to arrange himself in a way that looks almost comfortable. His hair is still damp from the bath, curling slightly at the ends, and his gaze snaps to mine the moment I step inside.
He stares at me as though my presence is a nuisance rather than a relief. That will change, and soon.
“Did you miss me?” I ask, closing the distance between us.
“Not in the slightest.”
I crouch in front of him, studying his face. There’s a faint redness at his wrists where the chains have rubbed against his skin, but he’s otherwise unscathed.
“You look bored,” I say.
He shrugs.
He has the sheer damn nerve to shrug.
I reach out, gripping his chin and forcing him to look at me.
His eyes blaze with defiance, and the heat of his anger radiates off him, potent and untamed.
His gaze holds a wildness that speaks of a man who refuses to be broken, no matter the chains that bind him.
His jaw tightens beneath my fingers in a silent challenge, and the steady, unyielding rhythm of his fury dares me to push further.
It’s intoxicating, this fire of his, the way it burns with reckless abandon, threatening to consume us both if I let it.
“You’re fortunate I find you intriguing,” I murmur, my thumb brushing against his jaw. “Anyone else who spoke to me like this would be begging for mercy by now.”
He stays silent, and it’s infuriating.
It’s probably for the best, but that rage rippling through him has my attention, and I want to play with his fire.
I want to stoke those flames and see how hot they burn, how bright their colors dazzle.
I’ve been craving entertainment and this human is the most interesting thing I’ve had in my possession in centuries.
My grip tightens for a fraction of a second before I release him, standing abruptly. I stride to the other side of the room, pouring myself a glass of dark, briny wine from the decanter on the table.
This game has moves and countermoves, and now it’s time to force Jude to make an error.
Jude watches me, his expression guarded. “What do you want from me, Lorien?”
“What do I want?” I repeat, swirling the wine in my glass. “I want your obedience. Your loyalty. I want to understand the power Helena left within you and decide whether it’s worth keeping you alive.”
His jaw tightens, and the effort it takes for him to bite back whatever retort is on the tip of his tongue is obvious. Tides, he’s even more attractive like this. Full of pent-up frustration, the pressure mounting and every muscle straining as he tries to contain himself.
When he should just let himself break.
“But most of all,” I continue, my voice softening as I meet his gaze, “I want you to surrender to me. You fight me, even though it’s hopeless. Even though it’s better to give in. Even though this is who you are and who you were meant to be.”
His eyes darken, and they brim with defiance. He has the sheer damn audacity to act as if I don’t own every part of him. His fight is intoxicating, even when it borders on insolence. Especially then.
“Careful,” I murmur, walking closer and brushing a finger along his jaw. “That attitude might tempt me to find more creative ways to occupy your time.”
His lips press into a firm line, but the slight hitch in his breathing betrays him. He’s trying so hard to keep up this facade of resistance, but the cracks are already forming. Jude wants this, wants me. He wants to discover if what he experienced last night was real, and I can indulge him.
If only because it will make him more compliant later.
“Is that what you want, Jude? Something to do?” I tilt my head, smirking as I lean closer. “Perhaps you’d like that now?”
He doesn’t respond, his jaw tightening, but the way his gaze drops to my mouth before snapping back to my eyes tells me everything I need to know. I grip his chin, forcing him to hold my gaze.
“You belong to me,” I whisper, my voice low and dangerous. “And I always take care of what’s mine.”
His breath catches, and for a moment, the tension between us is suffocating. It’s a whirlpool of desire and arousal, and a heady mix of pleasure and the agony of waiting. It’s a riptide and it’s got us both caught in it, and I doubt either of us could escape now, even if we wanted.
And neither of us does.
I drop my head, claiming his lips with a kiss that leaves no room for argument. His resistance crumbles as he melts into me, his body pressing against mine as though he can no longer help himself.
His lips part easily, and I take what he offers. I claim his mouth and my hands grab his body, pulling him into me. It’s hard, but not because he’s tense or fighting me. He’s a little anxious and more than a little frightened, and maybe even a little shocked that he’s so willing.
But he is willing, and he wants more, moaning as my tongue plays with his.
When I finally pull back, his lips are swollen, his breathing uneven.
“Better?” I ask, my thumb brushing over his lower lip.
He doesn’t answer, but the way his defiance has softened into something almost vulnerable is all the answer I need.
I click my fingers and his chains release. He glances down and then up at me, lost and almost pleading with me for salvation.
“Come,” I whisper. “It’s time to continue your education.”