ChaoticArmcandy

  The heavy oaken door smmed shut on Roxa’s heels, and I slumped forward as the faint click of her boots receded impcably down the hallway.

  She’d just…left me?

  From the first moment she had swept into Aralia’s office and bared the keen edge of her emerald gaze, I’d held out some hope that Roxa was here for me.

  I barely held in the sob that threatened to break my throat.

  I’d thought that maybe–perhaps, especially when Aralia had id out my central part in st night’s gambit, all would somehow be forgiven. I’d clung to a toehold of a chance that I’d redeemed myself, that Roxa’s disavowals of my worth were a feint, part of a bluff, just another py in the masquerade.

  But then she’d left me here–like discarded trash–even though she’d just bested Aralia. I screwed my eyes tightly shut.

  Another thought, close on the heels of that one, almost too horrible to bear–even if Roxa was bluffing, did her leaving me here mean that Mi had cosigned my disposal?

  “Ellie?” Aralia was kneeling next to me, her clear golden eyes searching my face, and then my vision blurred and the sight of her was swept away by a wall of tears. I could not contain nor douse the sound that slipped out of me then–a raw red whimper of total pain.

  Did I care anymore? About anything? I didn’t think so. There was a ndslide in my chest, a cavern colpsing. Another ragged sob tore from my throat and I slumped bonelessly over to one side.

  Why was everything hurting so much?

  I just simply could not do this anymore.

  Then Aralia caught me, her grip firmer and more gentle than I could bear, hauling me back to upright, and I almost flinched at how good it felt to be reached for, grabbed, wanted–so, so unbelievably good.

  I raised my eyes to hers, shivering with the effort. There was a grim sympathy etched into the lines of Aralia’s face as she looked at me, as if she’d seen all this before.

  “Oh, you poor thing,” she sighed, and behind her gold-ringed gaze I saw a decision clicking open like some vast lock unfastening.

  I stiffened as Aralia reeled me into an embrace, guiding my tear-stained face into the crook of her shoulder, her warm skin pressing to mine.

  Her steady voice vibrated into my cheek from her throat, from her colrbone, as the rest of her words sank into my mind. “I won’t compel any answers from you, Ellie. Not with the colr, nor with any form of coercive power. Not about Roxa, not about Mi. So you can rest easy on that, at least.”

  I hesitated, tensing anyway, and then my body made the decision for me. I melted against her, a soft whimper escaping me. I was in no position to refuse her comfort, especially since she was the only one offering me any. It really didn’t matter if she wasn’t safe–she was all I had.

  So I nestled my face deeper into the fine, soft bck wool of her jacket, and cried even harder.

  “You’ve had to deal with far too much today,” Aralia murmured in my ear as I sobbed into her shoulder. “You were bound to crash sooner rather than ter. Just let go. We’ll sort this out, you’ll see. We’ve got you.”

  Time bleared as the tears slowed. I was aware, in increasingly hazy fshes, of her guiding me to the couch and pulling a bnket over me. I shuddered as her hand stroked my hair gently.

  Her golden eyes were soft, troubled, tired. Her tone brooked no argument. “You need to sleep, now, Ellie.”

  I slipped obediently into the warm burrow of oblivion.

  ~ ~ ~

  A pliable amount of time passed in deep dreamlessness, and when I fuzzed back in, Pasha and Aralia and Emilia were standing by the desk with their heads together, talking in low voices.

  I blinked and stretched, yawning hugely, and–

  “You look pretty cute when you do that.”

  I startled, eyes widening and mouth shutting with a snap, as I met the gaze of a smirking Monarda, kneeling beside the couch.

  I froze like a mouse before a snake. My mind reeled over the st few interactions we’d had and I began to redden involuntarily. Her face was so very close.

  “Ellie,” Monarda said slowly, her gaze boring into mine.

  “Y-yes?” I swallowed as her hand reached over and stroked my head, lingering gently in my hair.

  “If you would raise your head.”

  I blinked. “I–wut?”

  Monarda shrugged amiably as she stood, her rangy frame looming over me. “It’s a funny turn of phrase–Aralia says it won’t activate the compulsion colr if it’s not worded as a command.”

  I bleated in surprise as she tangled her fingers in my hair, and slowly but firmly began to lift my head up off the couch. Her other hand slipped down to cover my mouth and cut off the sudden noise. My cheeks burned at the way she was handling me, even as I continued to twitch and whimper through her grip.

  “Shh. I’ve been letting you sleep, but I want to sit down.”

  Monarda lowered herself to the couch, maneuvering my head into her p in one smooth movement that made of me a limp ragdoll. Her first hand went back to idly pying with my hair, while the second remained in pce over my mouth. My eyes turned upward to plead with her smug gaze.

  She giggled at me as I squirmed. “Could it be that you actually like this, Ellie?”

  I blushed harder. Why was it so hard to think when she talked down to me? My head was a-swirl in a warm haze of pleasure.

  “Show me,” she taunted.

  I moaned, my resistance melting as more blood rushed to my already hot face, and instinctively my tongue darted shyly out between my lips and began to p her callused fingers.

  “Well, you’re still adorable,” ughed Monarda, her fingernails now lightly tracing dizzying shapes on the back of my neck. “Really, I’m gd you’re okay. You did sooo well.”

  I slumped in relief as she continued to stroke and soothe me. This felt…way too good. There was a hot ache igniting between my legs.

  “You know, I was worried about you,” she whispered.

  I almost moaned. Really? Someone had been worried about me? Hearing that–it felt like a sunrise in my heart. Everything I’d just been through had somehow built in me a wordless expectation that I was basically worthless.

  I tried to mumble a question through her hand about what was happening next, but she shushed me.

  “We’re discussing all that,” she whispered back. “I’m so sorry about that horrible thing around your neck but we’re going to look after you, okay? I’ve got your back, don’t worry.”

  Her words went directly into my core, and I couldn’t keep my thighs from clenching as the moisture between my legs redoubled.

  I hoped she wouldn’t notice. I hoped that if she did, she would pretend not to.

  She noticed. She didn’t pretend not to.

  Monarda smirked down at me. “Is that all it takes to make you squirm? A few kind words and you turn into a needy mess, huh?”

  I shuddered, blushing hotly. My clit was pulsing with electricity, my mind swimming with heat. She was right–the way I was melting like putty in her hands was…so embarrassing. Why was I turned on by the mere suggestion of belonging or emotional affection?

  “I do like the way you respond when I say nice things to you, Ellie,” she confided, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’re like a really cute pet.”

  I gaped up at her, my brain melting, my wetness dribbling through my soaking panties.

  From the other side of the room, Aralia raised her voice, sounding irritable. “I told you to take care of her, Monarda, not tease her into a mindless puddle.”

  “Easy for you to say,” retorted Monarda. “But I’m not sure she can tell the difference.” She winked at me and I felt my whole face flush hot and dark. The hand on my mouth lifted away, only to drift down and linger, encircling my throat. “Ellie, am I not taking good care of you?”

  Whaaat? I shuddered, barely repressed a whimper. “I-I don’t know,” I choked, my thoughts a white-hot blizzard of arousal and humiliation.

  “Let her up, you absolute demon,” called Emilia impatiently.

  Monarda relinquished her hold, grinning mischievously. I struggled upright, my face burning under the combined formidable gazes of Pasha and Aralia and Emilia. They had all three turned to face me.

  I squeezed my thighs together and hid my face in my hands, trying to regain some measure of composure. Where in the nine Abyssal hells was this all going?