Page 61 of Veiled Flames
Rosomon
My door opens and I’m startled awake.
Is it morn? How long did I sleep? I must have fallen the moment I sank under the covers.
Blinking my eyes, I pull the feather quilt higher up my chest. “Who’s there?” My mind flashes to Tynan. Has he come to carry out his threat?
“Hush, ma chérie.” Saxon’s powerful shape comes into focus, silhouetted in the faint light from the courtyard. He’s carrying a candle in a small holder, and his features flicker, reflecting the light as he sets it down atop the small table in front of my fireplace.
My heart is thumping so loudly, I’m sure he must hear it. The shock and fear of my door opening wears off, and in its place, hope and desire build. Saxon has changed his mind. He couldn’t let a single night pass without being inside me.
“Come,” he says softly. “I have something for you.”
Sliding out of the bed, I pad across the room toward him. The dying embers cast golden light that makes him seem almost unreal—too good to be true. But as I cross from one rug to the other, the cold flagstones against my bare feet ground me, reassuring me this isn’t a dream.
Longing to feel his hands on my breasts again, I wish I’d removed my chest bindings before going to bed, but at least this thin night dress will give his fingers and rod quick access to my cleft, already slick with anticipation.
“Sit.” He drops into one of the two wooden chairs by the table.
I slide onto his lap.
The second I land, he lifts me off him and drops me onto the chair he was on, taking the other.
His show of force erases my disappointment and frustration. My chest heaves and my insides pulse. My independent naturehateshow his superior size and strength can so easily overpower me, but a darker part of me loves it, and I flash back to how fluidly he changed our positions last night, more than once moving me like a toy doll and arranging me so he could impale me as he desired.
“I’m not here for sex.” Saxon’s voice sounds full of sand.
“Then whyareyou here?” I cross my arms over my chest.
“As I said—” he pats a small bundle he set on the table “—I have some things for you.” He leans toward me. “But first I want to make one final appeal.”
“Yes, fine. You can drill me.” Tugging up my nightdress, I spread my legs on the chair.
He snorts, clearly trying to choke back a laugh. “Princess, I’m hoping you’ve come to your senses.”
I straighten my shoulders. “I’m going to be a dragon rider.”Or die trying.I lift my chin, but then quickly cast my eyes down. Saxon holds all the power here in more ways than one. My determination means nothing.
“Please,” I say softly. “At least let me try.”
“You won’t survive your first day.” His voice is gruff. “Even if your disguise holds, the training is far too grueling for a girl.” His voice breaks slightly. He’s pleading with me.
Whether or not he’s right, he believes I could die tomorrow. But determination, like a stone in my belly, knows that I won’t. Or at least I’m willing to take that chance to get what I want.
I raise my gaze, hoping my resolve shows in my eyes, because I have nothing to say that I haven’t already voiced.
“Fine.” He leans back in his chair. “Choose death, if you must.”
I glance at the package on the table. “What did you bring me?” I’ve rarely received gifts, not even on the Feast of Othrix. Years ago, I made small tokens for my brothers and father to celebrate the day we celebrate the Gifts from Othrix, but never received a thing in return.
Saxon unties the cloth package and pulls out what looks like a corset.
I frown. I only ever wore corsets for the most formal occasions—only when Nurse and Dresser forced me. Even if Saxon reveals my sex, I won’t wear that thing here. “Why did you bring that?” I ask angrily.
“To replace those rags around your chest.” He slides the garment across the table. “I borrowed it from one of the courtesans. It’s a style meant to be worn under a bosom, so that your paps bounce above it. But I believe that if you position it higher, and tighten the ties?—”
“Oh!” A smile washes through my entire being. “Thank you.” He’s right. It will squish down my bosom, and if I fasten the ties in front, I should be able to tighten it without a dresser. I hug the corset to my chest. Even if it’s uncomfortable, it will be much easier to don and remove than the torn cloth I’m using now.
“And you should also take this.” He pushes a small tin box toward me.
