Page 52

Finally, I escape the estate, stumbling into Orthani’s dim streets.

My cloak drags on the cobblestones. The wards glimmer overhead, but I pay them no heed.

My mind is elsewhere, locked on the puzzle that is Selene.

She’s the one being I cannot break, and ironically, she breaks me with a single shift of her mental might.

How? Why? I should despise her with every fiber, but the moment she forced me to beg, I felt a pang of unfamiliar need.

Reaching my own domain—a private tower nestled near House Velcorin’s main grounds—I burst through the doors, ignoring startled servants who hurry to bow.

“No one disturbs me,” I snap, voice rough.

I ascend to my upper chamber, heart racing.

My illusions of invincibility—nearly said illusions, we must avoid that word—my fantasies of unstoppable power—crumble in her presence.

My entire body trembles with leftover adrenaline, with shameful memory of kneeling.

Inside my personal study, I collapse into a high-backed chair, face in my hands.

The gloom weighs on me. I exhale shakily, recalling how her aura dominated mine, how she exuded a savage confidence even pinned to her bed.

She overcame me in the psychic plane, pinned me down until I whimpered for mercy.

My entire being rebels at the admission.

Yet my mind wanders to the memory of her triumphant stance, how her dark power flared, how for one terrifying second, I felt relieved to submit.

I clench my fists on the desk, nails biting into my palms. I must find a path to rectify this.

Dare I try again? If I fail once more, she might truly destroy me.

A shiver crawls along my spine. But I can’t let her roam Orthani, mocking my House.

That’s worse than death. My House’s reputation hinges on psionic dominance. She undermines everything I stand for.

But oh, how I yearn for a taste of that moment reversed, where I brand her mind with my name, force her submission.

Or… let her push me deeper into that terrifying realm of surrender.

The conflict stirs a queasy mix of fury and desire.

My arms shake under the strain. I recall her final words: “We’ll see if next time ends differently.

” Another wave of raw longing courses through me.

I pry myself from the chair, pacing the dark study.

My reflection flickers in the tall window, the faint starlight revealing the tension etched in my features.

I vow I won’t simply yield to her humiliations.

If I can’t break her alone, I might harness other resources.

Or is that pointless? She proved she can best me even at my strongest. Perhaps I should approach this cunningly—poison, perhaps?

No, that denies me the pleasure of seeing her mind undone.

I want her conscious, forced to kneel in my mental thrall, that final look of terror in her eyes as she begs.

Yet the memory of her aura’s savage thrill tugs at me, a lure I can’t fully ignore.

My breath quivers. For the first time, I sense the faint crack in my sadistic veneer.

The psionic power that once made me unstoppable is worthless if she can outmaneuver me.

A strange notion arises: what if I yield on purpose next time?

Let her claim me, feed that dark side in me that stirred when she pinned me.

No, that’s insane. I am Zareth Velcorin, master of psionic cruelty. I cannot be a thrall.

But a small voice in the recesses of my mind mocks me: You already begged for mercy. Are you not already her thrall in some way? My nails bite deeper into my palms, drawing a trickle of blood. I hiss, releasing my fists. I must quell these thoughts.

At length, exhaustion claims me. I slump onto a cushioned bench near the window, eyes heavy.

The study’s shadows whisper around me, reminiscent of that swirling mental plane where she bested me.

Sleep creeps in, unwelcome but relentless.

I let my lids fall shut, haunted by the image of her dark eyes.

Dreams swirl: I see her standing over me in that psychic battlefield, arcs of black lightning dancing around her.

She presses a palm to my chest, forcing me to kneel.

This time, I don’t resist. I let the heat of her dominion wash over me, a mix of terror and arousal that leaves me trembling.

She leans in, mouth near my ear, whispering that I belong to her now.

A strangled moan escapes me in the dreamscape.

I feel her power hum through me, crushing my ego but awakening a savage desire I’ve never felt.

I jerk awake with a gasp, chest heaving, sweat dripping down my neck.

Dawn’s faint light seeps through the window, bathing the study in pale gray.

My heart races, my body uncomfortably tight with remnants of that dream’s twisted longing.

I half-laugh at the absurdity. Me, enthralled by the idea of submission?

Ridiculous. Yet the dream was vivid enough to leave me stiff and trembling. Anger and shame swirl anew.

Steadying myself, I stand, ignoring the raw ache in my limbs.

The day has come. Orthani resumes its daily charade.

I, Zareth Velcorin, must appear as if nothing has changed—maintain my House’s prestige, keep the council believing I remain Orthani’s apex psion.

Only I know the truth: a single purna woman shredded my illusions of control, forced me to kneel.

I vow to unravel her, but a single line from my dream resonates: “I belong to her now.” Heat flares in my cheeks, half hatred, half intrigue.

Perhaps I approach this differently. If raw force fails, maybe I let her think I yield, let her envelop me in that savage bliss, then strike when she’s unguarded. The idea stirs a surge of cunning.

Yes. I won’t fling myself into another direct confrontation.

I’ll bide my time, coax her to trust in her superiority.

Then, at the final moment, I’ll lash out.

My House trains in mental deception, illusions of compliance before the kill.

That might be the only way to break her.

Even if part of me wonders what it would feel like to truly surrender.

A cynical laugh rattles in my throat. “You see what you’ve done to me, Selene?” I murmur to the empty air. “Turned me inside out.” I gather my composure, smoothing my robes. She might have forced me to kneel last night, but I refuse to let that be the last page of our tale.

With a final glance at my reflection in the window, I exit the study, heading down the tower stairs.

Servants bow, and I ignore them, mind locked on my private vow.

Selene’s triumph is temporary. She may have cracked my sadistic veneer, but I’ll craft a new approach, one that harnesses the twisted need roiling inside me.

I am neither her thrall nor her suitor—I am her predator, no matter how entangled my desires.

And if, in the process, I find my heart pounding at the thought of kneeling before her again, that’s a price I’ll pay.

Because once I reclaim my mastery, I will determine who kneels in the end.

Selene’s mind will be mine to shape—or I’ll keep chasing that haunting edge of surrender until I unravel us both.

Either way, Orthani’s polite facade means nothing compared to the delirious warfare between her and me.

As I stride into the morning gloom, a grim smile curves my lips. Let her revel in victory for now. My hatred fuels me, but so does the memory of her savage strength. We’re locked in a dance that might devour us. And some dark corner of me quakes in excitement at the next time we collide.