I suck in another lungful of cigar. It’s likely I will never know, so I need to put it aside. What is done, is done. I cannot go back and change Lucien’s childhood. Instead, I need to concentrate on building a life for Lucien and I. And trying to find ways to help Lucien heal. He deserves to be happy. And I never want to see him petrified again.
Maybe he will never fully trust me. After the way I have treated him, that would be understandable. As much as it breaks my heart. But I can still try to make him as comfortable as I can.
Bossing him around in the bedroom is one thing. Will he prefer to be bossed around in day-to-day life too? That’s a thing, isn’t it? I’m sure of it. Some couples in the BDSM lifestyle live that way all the time?
Another puff of smoke fills my lungs. That’s not only a BDSM thing, though. There is no point denying it. That’s also a traditional mage and vessel thing. The mage gives the orders, the vessel obeys. I’ve gone full circle back to everything I despise about high society. And everything Lucien has been trained to expect.
Lucien is a person. With his own thoughts and feelings. He is entitled to autonomy. Just because being told what to do is easier for him, doesn’t mean it’s right. He has been conditioned to be that way. I’ll be taking advantage of him.
I groan heavily and lean back in my chair. Who the hell can I talk to about this? I’m sure finding someone in the BDSM community will be easy enough, but they will be mundane. They won’t understand how Lucien’s upbringing has probably robbed him of his ability to consent to anything.
He literally finds it impossible to say no to me. The thought sinks down into my soul and stirs something dark and menacing. I shouldn’t like that. It shouldn’t turn me on. But gods help me, it does.
I’m fucking doomed, and I have no idea what to do.
My gaze flicks to the drinks cabinet. I swear the blasted thing is taunting me. But I meant what I said. Never again. No more alcohol. No more being an asshole. No more Gregory.
A bitter taste floods my mouth. I’ve truly been a shitty judge of character. And as gullible as they come. How did I not see it? How did I not see that Gregory is a pompous buffoon that feels slighted at not being given Lucien? Gregory’s whispers in my ear about how awful Lucien is, were clearly nothing more than schoolboy spite. Why, oh why, did I allow that man’s poison to seep into me?
Holy gods, thinking about it, every bad word I ever heard about Lucien came from Gregory. He claimed everyone despised Lucien, and he was merely repeating what he had heard, but I never heard it directly from anyone else. It’s all been lies from someone who I thought was my friend.
A shudder wracks my body. Imagine if Lucien had been given to Gregory? What an awful thought. Just thinking about it is turning my stomach and filling me with rage.
Lucien is a sweet and gentle soul. So desperate to please. He does not deserve Gregory. He doesn’t deserve me, but I’m who he has. All I can do is try my best to be better. To give Lucien everything he needs, and to keep him safe. Nothing else is important.
My hand is shaking as I flick the ash of my cigar into the ashtray. Oh my. That last thought is echoing around and around. It’s shocking. Terrifying. Life altering.
Apparently I’ve gone from despising my consort, to being quite besotted.
Fuck.
Chapter fourteen
Lucien
Idon’t want to wake up, but consciousness is calling. Cautiously, I open one eye. I’m fairly certain I am alone. Felford’s presence burns like ice, I’d know if he was here. But I still want to check.
My bed is empty. So is my bedchamber. Night has fallen, but as it is winter, it’s probably still fairly early in the day. Before dinner, at least.
The bedchamber door is ajar and warm light is spilling in from my sitting room. Everything feels strangely peaceful. My nightgown is awfully crumpled, but it seems to have survived.
Tentatively, I move my body. I’m not too sore, and my magic has been drained. I’d call that a success.
Memories come flooding back. Hazy and unfocused, thanks to the calming tea. A blurry montage of moans and gasps. Of my body writhing and my mind exulting. And I’m pretty sure I forgot to use my brace. Oh my. I turn and bury my face in my pillow, even though there is no one here to see my embarrassment.
Was that really me? Did I truly behave like that? All wanton and shameless. And what caused such behavior? The teas the healer prescribed? Being ripe? Felford’s commands? His kiss?
The pillow smothers my incoherent groan. There are too many emotions swirling through me right now. Each one is loud, insistent, and contradictory. I don’t know what to do with myself.
Perhaps a nice calming bath? That sounds like a good idea.
I heave myself out of bed and pad over to my bathroom. I turn the hot water on, push the plug in and simply sit on the edge of the bath and stare at the running water. I can feel how sticky and gross I am now. And it is making me strangely proud. I’m feeling the echo of my husband’s touch. I gave him pleasure, as well as magic. He was pleased with me.
It is almost as if I am a competent vessel, after all.
The bath is full now. I strip off my nightgown and slip into the delicious heat. The water is soothing and calming and everything that I need right now. A contented sigh escapes me.
My thoughts circle back to being emptied. Whatever the cause and regardless of the reason, it felt incredible. Perhaps I am not frigid? There might be hope for me yet. Though that has to be too good to be true. It could just be that the healer’s teas are helping.
Oh, my goodness. I’m all over the place. So much has happened. I don’t know what to think, what to believe. Right now I’m not even sure if up is up and down is down. I feel as if I am falling apart. I don’t know who I am anymore.
Okay, deep breath. I need to calm down. The last thing I want is to have another fit of hysteria. I need to get a grip.
A seductive thought rises up and coils through my mind. There is one thing that will soothe me. Ground me and keep me stable.
I fight the thought for a few minutes before surrendering. The temptation is too strong. And it does always make me feel better. So much better.
“Alexa, what’s the time?” I call out.
The bathroom door is half open, the smart speaker should be able to hear me. Sure enough, a tinny voice replies with the time and it makes me smile. If I’m quick, I’ll be done before dinner.
With that thought in mind, I leap out of the bath, sling a towel around myself and hurry to my bedchamber, flicking the light switch on as I run past it.
The suitcase is still hidden in the back of my closet and looks undisturbed. Good, good. I pull it out and fall to my knees to turn the dials of the combination lock. The suitcase opens with a satisfying click.
I dry myself hastily with the towel, then my hands reach for a pair of long silky socks. The feel of them is divine. I’m grinning like an idiot as I slide them up my legs.
It takes a few moments to choose a pair of panties, but the red lacy ones are calling to me. Next it is my favorite skirt. It’s too short, but I love it anyway. The feel of the black material skimming over my ass is addictive.
