"Annie," Malvor said, voice low, stripped of performance. "You are free. You hear me? I may have claimed you so the others can't, but you don't belong to me. Not like that. I will never own you. Never control you. With me, you are safe. And free."
My lips parted, breath catching, but I didn't speak. We passed the carousel, its creatures gleaming under lights. The air smelled of sugar and childhood. The sounds of the carnival melted into a hum, soft and distant, like laughter carried on warm night air. I walked beside Malvor, the little cloth doll still tucked under my arm. My steps were slow, steady. For once, I wasn't calculating. I wasn't waiting for the moment when I'd be expected to smile, to serve, to give. I was just… here. Existing. And the startling thing? I wasn't afraid of it. I wasn't afraid of him.
The bright colors, the gaudy games, the absurd chaos of it all. Normally it would have clawed at my nerves, scraped at the edges of my control. But it didn't. Not with him beside me. Not with the space he gave me, the room to breathe. Maybe he had claimed me. But for the first time in my life, I understood what that meant: not possession, not chains, but protection. A shield against the others who would have taken everything from me. Left me an even emptier person. He filled me up. My cup overflowed. With joy, of all things. Joy. He hadn't bound me. He'd cut me loose. Gods help me, I wanted to see what I could be with that kind of freedom.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" His voice was quieter than usual.
I nodded, brushing my fingers over the doll's simple fabric. "I think I like it here."
When I looked up, he wasn't smirking. He was smiling, soft, real, unguarded. I hadn't realized how rare that was until just then.
"I'm glad you do," he said. "It's nice, isn't it?" I didn't answer. I didn't need to. We walked together while the world spun around us, and for once, it felt distant. Like maybe the carnival had never been the point at all.
The exhaustion hit me without warning. One moment I was watching lights swirl, strange creatures drifting by. The next, my legs felt heavy, my eyelids drooping. The steady rhythm of our steps, the warmth of the night. It all pulled me into something dangerously close to relaxation. Something I never allowed. I stumbled, sighing, pressing a palm to my eye.
"Annie?" Malvor's voice cut through instantly.
"Just tired," I mumbled. Before I could think of what to do, he swept me up. Strong arms wrapped around me, lifting me as though I weighed nothing at all. My breath caught. Not just from the shock, but from the strangeness of it. No one had ever carried me. No one had ever seen me falter and simply… helped. I wanted to protest. Gods, I wanted to. But I was too tired. Too undone by the gentleness. My head rested against his shoulder almost without my permission. He smelled like sugar and spice and something uniquely his, chaos, yes, but steady too.
In a blink, the carnival was gone. The flashing lights and spinning colors replaced by his castle, wild, untamed, shifting with every breath. Somehow it felt more like a home than any temple I had ever known. He held me tighter before lowering me onto his bed, pressing a kiss to my forehead. Once, then again, lingering. My heart stuttered at the simple intimacy of it.
"You don't have to do anything," he whispered, his voice softer than I'd ever heard. "Not tonight. Not ever, unless you want to."
The words disarmed me. Men had spoken them before, but none had ever meant them. Not like this.
"I know," I whispered back, though doubt tangled in my throat. He gave me a look that cut straight through me, one that said he saw every fracture, every scar, every reason I didn't believe. Instead of pressing, he kissed my wrist, my palm, then trailed down to my hip. His mouth trailed from my left hip to my right. Slow as smoke curling through the air.
"Mal—" My breath caught as his hands eased my thighs apart.
"Shh." His smile was faint, mischievous still, but softened with something gentler. "Just let me… give."
No bargain. No expectation. Just a gift.
His lips traced my thighs, warm, devastating, reverent. His hands held my legs in place. Firm but not painful. His mouth latched to my core. My whole body jolted. A startled cry tore from my throat before I could stop it. Instinct told me to tense, to retreat. But his hands grounded me. When he groaned against me, like the taste of me was some divine indulgence, I broke a little inside.
"Don't think," he murmured, his breath hot against where I ached. "Just feel. Let me give."
He was everywhere, tongue, lips, relentless worship. Licking, sucking, teasing with his teeth, overwhelming every nerve. My hands clawed at the sheets, my voice catching on gasps I didn't recognize as mine. I'd been touched before. Taken. Used. Expected. But never like this. Never with nothing asked of me.
"Gods, Annie," he groaned, voice wrecked, "you taste like everything I've ever wanted."
Pleasure rose sharp and dizzy, dragging me under. My body trembled, splintered, broke. His name left my mouth in a cry I couldn't hold back, as if he'd pulled it straight from my soul. He massaged my legs as I tried to tense. My back arched. The orgasm was hard, real and all mine. Only for me. No pretend. No trying. Not practiced. Not routine.
When it was over, I collapsed against the bed, panting, shaking. He pressed a kiss to the inside of my thigh, sealing something unspoken, before crawling up to gather me against his chest. His hands smoothed slow circles along my back, grounding me, as if reminding my body it was safe to rest.
"Why would you—" My voice cracked. I couldn't even finish the question.
His smile was wicked and tender all at once. "Because, darling Annie," he whispered into my hair, "pleasure isn't a transaction. It can be a gift. And you deserve every damn drop of it."
And for the first time in my life, I believed it. I believed him. My god. Not the one I worship. The one who worships me.