The images she evoked pushed all else from his mind. Nic, kneeling naked but for silver chains, her lush body bound for him to use as he pleased. The wicked tools of the arcanium glinted with dark allure, his imagination wanting to discover what they might do to her. Just envisioning what might pass between them had his magic swelling, pulsing with power—hungering for even more. If the mere thought of such depravity fed his magic, what would the reality do—
“No!” he shouted, clapping his hands over his ears, shutting out her words, banishing the possibility that he’d succumb. Dropping his hands, he curled his fingers into fists. “I won’t become like Sammael. Not even for you.”
Nic gazed at him with wide-eyed and knowing calm. “See?” she asked softly. “You hate the very thought of it. You despise yourself, and me, too.”
His jaw clenched so hard it ached, he glared his fury. “You should hate the thought, too.”
“I feel I should point out that you are telling me how I should feel. I told you what I want, and you refuse to take that seriously.”
“Because this isn’t something you really want. You’ve just been told to want it. You don’t know any better.”
She regarded him with something that would be pity if she weren’t so coldly furious. “I am not a child, and I am not a fool. I’d venture to say I know—and accept—myself far better than you do.”
“I won’t do this,” he said with vicious determination. “You clearly don’t know your own mind, and I refuse to demean you that way.”
“I see.” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter to her one way or the other. “It’s your decision, of course. How you use me is entirely up to you.”
“Stop putting it that way,” he warned her, coming very near to ordering her not to.
“As you say,” she replied in a meek tone not matched by her flashing eyes. “But youarestuck with me, so I suggest you come to terms with how you want things to be between us.”
“Ihavecome to terms,” he informed her. “And there will be no visit to the arcanium. That’s my final decision. We’ll work together to raise the manse without that.”
“I’ll do my best to work within those parameters.” She inclined her head as if acknowledging a command, infuriating him further.
“Stop deferring to me,” he snarled at her.
She lifted her chin, otherwise bland in expression. “Gabriel, you cannot give me orders, make unilateral decisions about my life, and tell me I don’t know what I want while you know better—and also expect me not to defer. You can’t have it both ways. You have power over me whether you like it or not, and at this moment, when you are so determined to have things your way, you seem to like it just fine. I can’t fight you, and I’m not going to try.”
How had this conversation gone so deeply into the bog? He felt mired to the waist in mud, and the more he struggled against it, the deeper he sank.
“May I be excused?” she asked with excruciating politeness.
He nearly said no, nearly demanded that she sit and eat dinner with him. That she be witty and sweet, flirting with him.You want your wholesome Meresin farm girl.“Yes, go then.”
She curtsied, lowering her gaze demurely, then rose and walked out. If he knew her slightly less, he wouldn’t have been able to pick out the stiffness in her gait, the repressed fury and despair tightening the line of her shoulders.
“Nic,” he called after her.
When she turned, waiting with polite obedience, he realized he didn’t know what to say to her. “I didn’t want to fight with you,” he said, the words sounding absurd even as he said them.
She softened, ever so slightly, a gleam of something like compassion in her eyes. “I know.” Letting out a sigh, she shook her head. “Perhaps you understand now why wizards and familiars can never be partners. It’s in a wizard’s nature to be commanding, and it’s in a familiar’s nature to be commanded. The sooner we sort that out, the better off we’ll be.”
She stood there, saying nothing more. Waiting to be excused, he realized.
“Good night,” he told her.
With a polite nod, she left, leaving him alone with their interrupted dinner. With a snarl of pure rage, he dashed the food and dishes from the table, sending the candelabra and melted wax flying. Moon magic burst out of him in a rain of silver, an uncontrolled burst as hadn’t happened in a long while.
Perhaps you can drink heavily as you wallow in self-loathing, then alternate at dinner between sullenness and sudden explosions of anger.
Sinking to his knees, he clutched his head, willing himself to control the magic, to draw it back inside. And wished with all his heart that he hadn’t driven away the one person who would understand.