Page 13 of To Tame An Angel

At this, he chuckled. It was malevolent. “You’re so naïve. It’s almost endearing.”

I recalled the man kneeling before me at the pits, how terrible his wound had been. They had all looked broken. The taskmasters didn’t care if they were harmed and suffering infections.

“How do you think we survive?” he asked darkly, as if he could sense an opening to my shifting thoughts. “As a child, you get your wings shoved back into your body. Do you know how it happens? A cut must be made in the back next to the base of the wing, muscle is pushed to the side and the wing is tucked inside. An entire surgery in cold blood. Then you’re placed in a room with other boys who’ve suffered the same fate. Many have perished. Only those whose body is strong make it.”

I felt sick, and I had to swallow against the bile. Of course, I knew their wings were placed back into their bodies, but they’d made it seem like boys were magically put to sleep during the procedure. To think of him as a little boy experiencing this zapped all my anger at him running away. He knew no better. He thought I was only a taskmaster. Someone to hurt him for the sake of hurting him. Someone to hold him down and split him open.

There was a sharp to hold him, but I understood he wouldn’t appreciate it yet. He didn’t know comfort. That’s when I realized it wasn’t my task to break him or tame him. It was my task to help him. To show him how slight pain could be pleasurable. To show him the sexual intimacy forged by trust. A sense of protectiveness filled me, and my lips tightened. He may hate me right now, but he was mine to protect.

I swallowed and looked away. “We’ll, you’re no longer in the pit. Now you’re mine and I take care of mine. Even if you don’t wish it.”

He blinked at me. Now it was his turn at confusion. “Why didn’t you brand me?”

I glanced at him. “It’s supposed to be a bonding experience. A tender moment where you become mine and I provide you with pleasure for accepting me. Right now, you hate me. If I brand you now… it would be soiled.”

“Because being branded is such a sweet experience.”

“If you’re branded, no one is allowed to touch you, harm you, kill you. You belong to me, and I will protect you with my body and magic. No man or woman can change that. Not even the queen.” I looked away because his gaze was so steady. “It’s not perfect, but I didn’t make rules. The rules just existed.”

“The rules are wrong,” he snapped.

I was tempted to muzzle him again for his combative nature. I pointed to the discarded piece of leather, and he closed his mouth, his nostrils flaring.

Finally, I sighed and softened my stance, placing my hand on my hip. “Why don’t you want me to take care of you?”

“I take care of myself,” his voice is controlled rage.

I cocked my head. “You expect pus from cuts and dream of your body pushing out thorns. You also refuse to eat, refuse to sleep… you’ve not slept in days. You’re exhausted, won’t admit to it, and fight me when I’m trying to cure you.”

He yanked harshly at the chains. Since he was spread over my bed, all it did was jiggle his ass. “Stop pretending you care!”

Without saying a word, I turned back to the vials in the bag. He watched with hawk eyes when I chose the correct one.

“What is that?” He asked.

“Medicine. You drink it.”

“I won’t drink it.”

I opened the vial and sniffed it. It smelled acrid. Tastes awful, I had to drink it myself when I cut my stomach while training last year.

“It’ll help you heal,” I said.

“I don’t care.”

I wished to roll my eyes at his childish protests, but a thought came to me.

Smiling at him, I leaned down onto him. “If you do not drink it… I’ll spank you.” The idea came fresh from watching his butt wiggle a moment before. “I’ll place you right over my lap and redden your ass so you can’t sit down for a week.”

His lips parted. The strange scent is back, and I realized what it was. The heady smell of musk and citrus… he’s aroused.

I smirked. “You liked it earlier–”

“I did not!” He seethed.

“Well, if you refuse the medicine, I’ll assume you did enjoy it.” I looked at him triumphantly.

His nostrils flared. Then he opened his mouth. A thrill of delight gushed in me at besting him. But even more, a thrill that he enjoys the spanking, or he wouldn’t protest so loudly about it. I would bet money that if I turned him around, I would find a half-hard cock. There was also something so lovely about seeing such a large man tied up, looking up at me with his mouth open.