2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

I ’m inside Buckingham Palace. I can’t believe it. I’ve lived in London all my life, but like most of the locals, I’ve never done the tourist things. I save that for when I’m away on holiday. So I never thought I’d be here. Even when it belonged to humans. Once it was taken over by fey, I never, ever thought I’d be stepping a foot in this place.

Except maybe as a victory celebration, when we finally oust the invading assholes. Seems I’m a little premature.

The guards drag me along at a breakneck speed. Which is fine. I’m not exactly in the mood to admire the decor. Though I’m not entirely sure I want to get to wherever we are going.

Torture chamber? Dungeon? A kitchen where they will steam me alive like a lobster? Wherever they are taking me, it’s not going to be good.

We burst through some double doors and stop. I look around me and blink. It’s a bathroom. An extremely fancy one, but still a bathroom. The tiles are all a pale blue and instead of a tub, there is basically a small swimming pool. Sunken into the ground.

Not what I was expecting at all. I thought they were going to do terrible things to me. Not let me wash.

The guards release my arms, but before I’ve had a chance to adjust to the change of my circumstances, they start stripping my clothes off.

I yelp but offer no other resistance. It’s December in England. I have a fair few layers on. But I wish they’d go back to holding my biceps in a death grip.

They find my phone and give it a cursory glance. My heart thumps, but they simply chuck it onto my growing pile of clothes. Still, I’m flipping glad I’m paranoid enough to not keep anything on my phone. Just because they don’t seem interested in it, doesn’t mean they are not going to dissect it later.

Oh crap. I’m down to my tighty whities. I cast my captor, the prince, a beseeching glance, but he is drinking in the sight of my body with rapt glee. He gestures at the guards to continue, and now I’m completely naked. My hands cover my junk and nobody bats them away. Thank heavens.

I’m confident about my body. Lord knows I spend enough time at the gym. In theory, I should be fine with being starkers in front of a bunch of guys. I’ve certainly never felt shy or uncomfortable in a locker room. But I’ve never been so openly objectified before. Mabon’s expression is unmistakable. As is the way he is rubbing his hands together.

My mind is reeling. I’m all over the place. I’m not exactly sure how I’m feeling about this. Surely I should be one hundred per cent outraged and furious? So what is this dark and coiling satisfaction and pride? Mabon’s attention should not be flattering.

“Get in,” he orders.

My gaze flicks to the inviting water. In there, he won’t be able to ogle me. But he will see my ass when I turn. Oh well, that’s a fair enough trade off.

Awkwardly, I turn, ignore Mabon’s happy little gasp, and shuffle over to the edge of the enormous bath. There are shallow steps down into the faintly steaming water.

I walk into the water and nearly sigh in relief. The heat is divine and being out of view is incredible.

I find a seat carved into the wall and settle into it, facing the fey prince. The guards are gone. I didn’t hear them leave. I’m all alone with my captor, who is easily half my weight.

I lick my lips and run my gaze over him. Assessing. He is slender and graceful. But he is also fey. Who knows what strength his feminine frame hides? Besides, he is fey, he has magic. He can probably turn me into a frog or something.

So no, sadly, I don’t think I can take him.

Our eyes meet, and he gives me a soft smile. I gulp. I swear he knows exactly what I was just thinking and the conclusion I just came to. And he approves. And I like that he approves.

I’m seriously losing the plot.

The door bangs open and I flinch. Water sloshes against the side of the tiles. Several waist high people walk in. They all have candy floss pink hair, and each one is carrying a plump red cushion with a dog collar on it.

Oh god, please tell me those aren’t for me. But all the evidence is pointing to them, in fact, being for me. He claimed me as his pet, and pets wear collars. And there is no one else here.

Mabon lets out a little squeal when he sees the selection. He picks one up and examines it.

“Out!” he says, while clicking his fingers in my direction.

I’m wading towards the steps before I have even thought about it. What the hell? Why am I obeying him?

I suck in a fortifying breath. Fuck it. I’m striding out with my head held high. I’m going to act with dignity and pride. That’s going to be far more impactful than resisting every tiny little thing and getting beaten for it.

Water streams off of me. It’s warm in the bathroom, so I’m not shivering and my dick hasn’t shrivelled up. But Mabon is not even looking at me. He is far too engrossed in inspecting the collars.

“Kneel,” he says while pointing at the floor.

I grind my teeth. There is no point in being stupid over inconsequential things, I remind myself. Slowly, with as much grace as I can muster, I sink to my knees. The tiles are warm, but hard. I hope I’m not going to be here for long.

Mabon barely glances at me. He picks up a soft brown collar. He steps right up to me. So close that his silks brush my nose and his sweet smelling scent floods my senses. What is that? Apricot? Strawberry? Cinnamon and sugar? Whatever it is, it’s a battle not to inhale deeply.

He fastens the collar around my neck. His fingers do not touch my skin. He steps back to admire his handiwork.

“Oh! It matches his nipples!” he exclaims.

A prickly, itchy heat creeps insidiously across my face. Oh my god.

Mabon taps a finger against his supple looking lips. His eyes are narrowed, and a look of intense concentration is on his face.

“No,” he says eventually. “I want it to be clear he is mine.”

He removes the brown collar and tosses it carelessly aside. Then he picks up a collar encrusted with sparkling purple crystals. It looks like a collar for a cat. A spoiled Persian princess of a show cat.

He buckles it around my neck and I feel my manhood die.

Mabon claps his hands together. His strange eyes are sparkling.

“Perfect!” he gushes.

He shoos the little pink haired people away. Then he throws a ridiculously soft towel at me. It hits me in the face, but then I catch it.

“Come,” he beckons imperiously before striding through a side door.

I stagger to my feet and hurry after him while trying to dry myself at the same time. Everything is happening far too fast. I can’t keep up. I need time to freeze so I can catch my breath and process what the hell is happening. But the universe has never been kind, and I very much doubt Mabon is either. He will not give me a breather. So somehow, I need to suck it up.

I look up and find myself in a sumptuous bedroom. The bed is enormous and strewn with hundreds of cushions. Everything is dazzling white and gold. Even the carpet feels plush and decadent against my toes.

While I have been taking in my surroundings, Mabon has been rummaging in a dresser. Suddenly, he turns and strides towards me. I take a hasty step backwards before stopping myself. But I’m not going to stop protecting my junk with this towel.

He holds out a pretty silver earring. I blink at him.

He rolls his eyes. “Put it in. Speaking your tongue is tiresome.”

I stare at the earring. It’s dangly. Three feathers. Nothing like the small gold ring I currently have in.

He arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow at me. I snatch the earring from him, wedge the towel between my knees, and start the tricky process of switching earrings.

He watches me for a few moments. Then he huffs and takes over. He is very good at invading my personal space and standing close to me, without any part of our bodies actually touching. It’s maddening.

He steps back. I can feel the earring moving. It feels strange. Heavier than I am used to.

“Can you understand me?” he says.

I stare at him.

“Well?” he snaps impatiently.

I nod.

He smiles in triumph. “Good! Now get on the bed.”

For the second time in as many hours, my thoughts consist of only two words.

Oh fuck.