16. Chapter 16

Chapter sixteen

I can’t believe he has left me chained to his bed again. He is such a little shit. I thought we had moved on from such things. Grown closer. But I guess I’m still nothing more than a plaything. Something to use and then discard every time he gets bored.

Sighing heavily, I wander over to the window. My leash is just about long enough to reach. It’s dark outside and I can’t see shit. It’s not at all distracting. I’m left fuming, and worrying about him, and fuming that I’m worrying about him.

He clearly has enemies. Osian even warned him. But why do I care? Doesn’t the saying go, the enemy of my enemy is my friend? I should be finding ways to communicate with Duke Carian and Lord Gwydion, and I should be working with them.

So why aren’t I? Why does the very idea of it make me feel sick? I’m not so daft as to be turned by a pretty face and mind-blowing sex. Or am I? Oh lord, this is impossible!

I run my hand over my face and try to pull my thoughts together. I need a distraction. Something. Anything that will stop my thoughts from twisting in circles. Anything at all.

I know! I’ll do some more Morse Code. That requires just enough brain cells to keep me occupied.

I bring a lamp over to the windowsill and get as comfy as I can. I still don’t have much to say.

‘I’m being held by Prince Mabon. I’m gathering information. He doesn’t know I’m Resistance.’

It’s pathetic, but no one is going to see this, so it doesn’t matter. I’m just going to make damn sure I escape with something useful. That way, all of this would not have been for nothing.

The Resistance will be proud of me. I’ll be free, and Mabon will fade to nothing more than a confusing memory.

My breath hitches, but I ignore it. I’m not thinking straight. I’m a captive. It’s a stressful situation. Stockholm Syndrome is a thing for a reason. Once I’m out of here, I will be able to think clearly and I’m sure I won’t be feeling fond of Mabon at all.

A door bangs loudly in the next room. I quickly move away from the window and go stand by the bed, with my most innocent expression.

Mabon bursts into the bedroom. And he is not alone. He is wrapped around Gwydion and their hands are all over each other.

My leash brings me up short and the collar presses tightly against my throat. I gag and the instant rage I felt fades. Mabon is not mine. He can have whoever he likes. The idea that he’d be loyal to a mere pet is ludicrous. I don’t know what came over me.

I step out of the way as they fall onto the bed. Nausea is rolling through me. I turn away. They are completely ignoring me. I may as well be a piece of furniture. So I don’t think Mabon is going to unchain me. I’m stuck here and I’m going to have to watch.

Well, I’m going to close my eyes and block my ears. But it’s not going to be enough. Being a thousand miles away would not be enough.

Why is Mabon doing this? I’m sure he doesn’t like Gwydion. Is this some twisted thing to do with the hunt and the favour? Is he being coerced into this?

Cold horror floods my veins. What do I do? Should I stop this?

Mabon’s eyes meet mine over Gwydion’s shoulder. Our gazes lock for a heartbeat and then he looks away. I swallow tightly. His look was full of emotion, but I didn’t see anything that said, ‘save me’.

Whatever is going on, he has it under control. At least, I think so. Unease crawls all over my skin. I take a deep breath. This is his world. He knows the game. And the rules. None of this is my business. It’s not my place to intervene.

As for my gut reaction and my feelings? I need to get a grip.

Sometimes he chooses to share his body with me. Sometimes he chooses to share it with others. It shouldn’t hurt like this. I’m being absurd. He is not my boyfriend. I don’t own him, he owns me. As a pet.

Just because I’ve never had casual sex before, doesn’t mean I need to get all confused about things. I’m an adult. Capable of rational thought. Separating sex from emotions and feelings of possessiveness is not a difficult thing to do. People manage it all the time.

Oh fuck! Who am I kidding? I can’t do this! I’m grinding my teeth. I’m covering my ears. My eyes are scrunched up tight. I’m facing the wall and my back is to the bed. I hate this, I hate this, I hate this. I hate everything about it.

It is taking everything I have to not turn around, pull Gwydion off the bed and beat the ever loving crap out of him. Even though he would probably just turn me into a frog if I tried.

Despite everything I’m doing to try to block out what is happening, every fibre of my being is hyper aware of it. Every rustle of cloth, every creak of the mattress. Every lewd sound. I feel it all in my soul.

The bed moves again. Things pick up pace and progress.

I can tell that it is rough. And this knowledge is going to break me. It is already stabbing me in the heart.

When Mabon and I last made love, it was fast, but it was passionate, not rough. The way he completely and utterly melted in my arms from my kiss, is evidence in my mind that Mabon prefers a gentle touch. It is what he deserves. Gwydion is not treating him with respect.

And any minute now, I’m going to lose my control and make him see the error of his ways. Consequences be damned.

Suddenly, everything goes quiet and still. My eyes open and I turn around before I can stop myself. Immediately I regret it. Mabon is on all fours on the bed. Robes hitched up over his hips. Gwydion is standing on the floor behind him. The bastard is doing up his robes. Mabon has his head down and is panting.

Gwydion smirks and slaps Mabon on the ass. The crack of it reverberates around the room.

“That’s better!” he announces. Then he turns on his heels and strides out.

The collar chokes me again as the leash pulls me up short. I stepped after Gwydion without meaning to.

I turn back around. Mabon has collapsed down onto the bed and curled up into a ball. His eyes are wide and glassy. All my anger melts away. The only thing left is a deep concern.

I step towards him. “Are you alright?”

He wrinkles his dainty nose. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He pulls the covers over himself and curls up smaller. His hair is all messy, as if it has been pulled. He looks so tiny. So vulnerable. So needy.

Silently, I slide into the bed. I reach out and pull him close. I hold him tight. He is as stiff and unyielding as a rock. Then suddenly, his arms wrap around me and he clings to me. He melts like he did with our kiss. Except this has a desperate, frightened feel to it. It reminds me of the time I babysat my little cousin and there was a thunderstorm. Five-year-old Alice had clung to me like this. As if I was the only light in the dark. The only source of safety. A big, strong person capable of protecting.

Mabon isn’t sobbing. But I might start. This is awful. He clearly hated having to do that. I don’t understand the reasons, but obviously it was a necessity. He had no choice but to let his body be used.

He may be a prince, but I’m growing increasingly convinced that nobody has ever truly given a shit about him. He is all alone and surviving the best he can. In the only way he knows how.

He is a lost and lonely, unloved soul and I can’t bear the injustice of it.

The words he spoke after we made love are flooding back to haunt me. ‘Is it always like that with humans?’

Does he really only know fucking? Is the entirety of his experience, rough sex with uncaring bastards?

Another memory consumes me. Mabon looking over his shoulder at me. A flash of yearning and a look of an unwanted puppy at a shelter. All because Tristan had suggested that if Mabon treated me well, I might fall in love with him.

My chest is hurting now. My breaths are coming out in uneven, jagged gasps. I run my hand over his silky hair and wish I could undo all his suffering.

But that is far beyond my power. However, I can treat him with respect. Teach him gentleness. Show him how he deserves to be treated. It is going to have to do. It’s the only thing I have to offer.