Here and Safe
DAPHNE
I’m standing in the shine of the mirror donning my new dressing gown when Ash returns from his ‘errand’ to practically toss Petra from his room.
“She’s not tried everything!” Petra snarls. “What if something doesn’t fit?”
“From the looks of things,” Ash slithers, his voice a whisper above a snake’s, “everything will fit nicely.” He finishes by slamming the door in her face and turning his eyes on my body, the heat in them nearly melting me on the spot. “Do you like it?” he asks me, sliding up behind me in the looking glass.
“I can see that you do,” I counter, my gaze fixing on the front of his trousers behind the green gossamer he has planted my body within. One of his many gifted items in the grand wardrobe he had made for me.
“Green is a striking color on you, love,” he taunts me, his lips dipping behind my head where I feel the drag of his tongue across my flesh. “But let us take it off.”
With a giggle and a shove, I dance away from him, spinning toward the edge of the bed where my favorite gown waits. “You’ve plundered me enough for one morning, don’t you think?” I tease him, closing the gaping hole that parts the front of my new leaf colored dressing gown and reaching for the opalescent fabric of my favorite piece.
“It will never be enough,” he sighs like a confession, the muscles of his exposed forearms flexing deliciously.
No, no, no! Not again so soon.
I clamp my eyes shut against his beauty for a moment so that I might speak. “I want to dress now. Call Petra.” When I reopen my gaze the amusement I see in him only threatens the dryness of my new undergarments.
He shakes his head, the silver of his eyes swirling like molten fire as he converges on me. “No, I think not. We can manage. Just you and I. And quickly because you will be taking lunch with my mother and I plan to taste you at least once more before I depart.”
“Taking lunch with your mother?” My movements freeze as I lift the pearl colored corset toward my middle. “I-I w-will? Y-your mother?” Now my resolve not to allow him to undress me is that much tougher. I will need my hair done… everything must be perfect. “I cannot be made to bathe again, Ash.”
“I will bathe you myself,” Ash swears, pouncing.
“Call Petra!” I all but scream, frowning when I hear how panicked I sound.
Ash’s progression halts, the heat of his eyes banking out even as he reaches for me. “Perhaps, I should not have mentioned it. You’ll not be letting me touch you again, will you?”
“After…” I promise him, stepping away. And perhaps I should take a clue from the depth of sadness that befalls his gaze in this moment, but I choose not to. Knowing he will not lock me in the dungeon in front of his mother, nor before he places hands on me again, I urge him toward the door. “Please, Ash. Retrieve Petra. I should like to look perfect when meeting your mother.”
“Right,” he says through clenched teeth. “Of course.”
And yet he continues to watch me, his silver fire lingering on the promised swell of my breasts behind the gossamer coats that adorn me. “Ash… please,” I press him, tightening the gown around my middle in silent denial of what I see in his eyes.
“Fine,” he hisses, before turning around and disappearing back out into the hall.
Half an hour later, I am dressed in my favorite full bodied gown, which is a shimmer of white upon rainbows and quite possibly the most magical item I have ever beheld. My hair has been twined and beaded down my back, the gemstones that Petra chose to decorate my plaits with, seeming like soft cut diamonds with centers much like birthed rock of the castle. Sparkles of darkness within the chestnut coils of my hair that have me turning again and again in the looking glass to spy the effect they have against the light of the glowing rocks.
“You look amazing,” Petra commends, her smile making me feel the truth in her words.
“You have outdone yourself,” I whisper, giving credit where credit is due. “I absolutely love it.”
“You definitely look the part of queen,” Klyesque’s voice comes from the open doorway and her eyes meet my own in such a way that tells of why she is here.
I nod in her direction and she nods back, neither of us seeing the smirk that Ash attempts to hide as anything more than his usual arrogance.
“You are certainly a sight to behold,” he states plainly, eyeing the hint of tanned flesh that peeks out from behind the deep slit of skirt on each side of me. “Shall we, then?” he asks, offering out an arm, which I take with one last lengthy look toward Klyesque.
“I’ll meet you for our reading lessons some time after lunch,” Klyesque announces, pushing out into the hallway with a heavy sway of her hide.
My smile at her back is nearly so grand that I miss the chuckle that flies beyond Ash’s lips as he snatches me to him by the hip, one hand going into my gown at the front slit of one side.
“Ash,” I say with a tremble against him. “What has gotten into you?” I ask, although I think I know what it is. It’s seems he’s been this way since realizing who I am.
Yours is the power of all the realms… Aquini’s words yet again coming through as a haunted whisper.
But as I look up into the silver of Ash’s gaze, I do not see the greed that I fear in the back of my mind, but the lust I have become accustomed to.
He’s just happy. He doesn’t seek your power, he seeks your flower.
And yet, even in knowing this… something feels off.
“I’m just happy to have you and my mother,” Ash says honestly. “Here and safe, where I mean for the two of you to stay.”
“Mmhmm,” I murmur as he slides his possessive hand back out from under my skirt.
“Goddess you are beautiful,” Ash spits almost angrily. “Say it to me again.”
“Say it?” I question, knowing full well what he needs of me.
“Please” he whispers, his eyes flashing before he retakes my arm and we start down the hall in a direction I have yet to wander.
“It is your child I carry-”
“Not that,” he whispers, stopping us beneath a particularly narrow corridor.
“Not that?”
He spins me around until my back is to his front, the pulse of his manhood beating with its own heart against my back as he pants in my ear. “Tell me…” he takes my hand, guiding it, “...whom you love.”
“I love you,” I say without hesitation, as he yanks the sconce out of the wall, holding it tight within my grip.
“And I you.”
And then the wall opens up and swallows me whole.