[Tyrell’s POV]

  I’ve been pacing outside this damn throne room for what feels like hours, my boots wearing a path in the polished obsidian floor. Jackie stands nearby, her rigid posture betraying none of the anxiety I know she must feel. The silence between us is thick with unspoken concerns.

  “Do you think he’s okay in there?” I finally ask, unable to bear the quiet any longer.

  Jackie’s eyes flick to me, cold and professional. “Lady Ruin knows what she’s doing.”

  Before I can respond, the massive doors swing open with an ominous creak. The fog that was filling the throne room billows out like ghostly fingers, curling around my ankles.

  Lady Ruin emerges from the mist, but something’s different. Her helmet is gone, revealing her face for the first time since I’ve known her. She cradles Luke’s unconscious body in her arms like he weighs nothing, his head lolling lifelessly against her shoulder.

  My heart drops into my stomach. She looks exactly like Super Star, the same elegant features, the same full lips, the same chestnut hair, except for the gaping socket where her left eye should be, surrounded by puckered, angry scars.

  “Holy shit,” I blurt out, my usual filter completely abandoned in my shock. “Did you kill Luke?”

  Jackie gasps beside me, her composure finally cracking. Her eyes dart frantically between Lady Ruin’s exposed face and me, clearly torn between horror at my bluntness and her own bewilderment at seeing her ruler’s visage for the first time.

  Lady Ruin’s remaining emerald eye fixes on me, her expression unreadable. A beat of silence hangs between us, heavy with tension.

  Then, unexpectedly, she laughs, a light, tinkling sound that’s somehow more terrifying than her rage.

  “No, Tyrell. He’s merely sleeping,” she says, adjusting her grip on Luke’s limp form. “We had an... emotionally taxing conversation. He needed rest.”

  I don’t miss the way her fingers possessively stroke Luke’s hair as she speaks. It sends a chill down my spine.

  “Shall I prepare his room for him, my lady?” Jackie asks, recovering her professional demeanor despite the slight tremor in her voice.

  Lady Ruin shakes her head, her single eye never leaving Luke’s peaceful face. “That won’t be necessary. He’ll be staying with me in my private quarters.”

  Jackie’s eyebrows shoot up before she can control her reaction. In all the time I’ve known Lady Ruin, she’s never allowed anyone into her personal space, not even Jackie.

  “As you wish,” Jackie manages, bowing slightly.

  Lady Ruin shifts Luke’s weight in her arms, her single emerald eye gleaming with determination. “I wish to erase Luke’s memories since he’s come to this world,” she announces, her voice casual as if discussing the weather. “It appears Super Star has left my husband stained. Is Mind Mistress up to the task?”

  “Wait, what?” I blurt out, my voice echoing off the obsidian walls. The words hit me like a physical blow, and I can’t help but stare at her. Did she just refer to Luke as her husband?

  Jackie, ever the efficient assistant, is already scrolling through her datapad. “Of known supers, her mental manipulation powers are the strongest,” she confirms, her fingers dancing across the screen. “Mind Mistress has successfully altered memories in several documented cases, though we don’t know for how long.”

  Lady Ruin considers this information, her emerald eye narrowing slightly as she gazes down at Luke’s sleeping form. Her fingers continue their possessive stroking of his hair, a rhythmic motion that seems to comfort her more than him.

  “Tyrell,” she says after a moment of contemplation, “go fetch Mind Mistress. She can at least temporarily ease Luke’s burden.”

  The command hangs in the air between us, heavy with implication. I shift uncomfortably, my boots scraping against the obsidian floor. This feels wrong, fundamentally wrong in a way I can’t fully articulate.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

  Lady Ruin’s eye flashes with fury at my hesitation. The temperature in the corridor plummets, frost crystallizing along the obsidian walls.

  “Disobey me, Tyrell, and I will replace you,” she snarls, her voice echoing with otherworldly power. “Have her here by tomorrow morning.”

  She shifts Luke’s unconscious form in her arms, cradling him closer to her chest like a precious doll. “For now, I’m off to remind my bratty little Luke, who’s really in charge of him.”

  Her smile spreads across her face, wild and unhinged, the scars around her empty socket pulling tight. It’s a grin that doesn’t belong on a human face, too wide, too hungry.

  I take an involuntary step back, my hands raised in surrender. “Got it. Mind Mistress. Tomorrow morning.”

  Lady Ruin turns without another word, striding down the corridor with Luke’s limp form. Jackie and I exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between us.

  “What the actual fuck?” I whisper once Lady Ruin is out of earshot.

  “I can’t believe she only had one eye the entire time i knew her.” Jackie says as if that was the only take away that mattered.

  *****

  [Luke’s POV]

  My consciousness returns gradually, like wading through a thick fog. The first thing I notice is warmth, a soft, familiar weight against my chest, and the gentle tickle of hair beneath my chin. For a blissful moment, I think I’m back in Boston with Super Star, wrapped in our usual morning embrace.

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  Then I try to stretch and realize I can’t move.

  Panic jolts through me. My eyes fly open, darting wildly around an unfamiliar bedroom bathed in soft morning light. The walls are pristine white, adorned with ornate golden moldings. Silken sheets beneath me, impossibly soft against my skin.

  I strain against whatever’s holding me down, but there’s nothing visible, no ropes, no chains, nothing but an invisible force pinning my limbs to the mattress. The magic, it must be magic, feels like gentle pressure all over my body, firm but not painful.

  “Don’t struggle, my love. You’ll only tire yourself.”

  The voice sends ice through my veins. I look down to find Skye, Lady Ruin, nestled against me, completely naked. Her single emerald eye watches me with an intensity that’s almost feverish, pupil dilated with what can only be described as ecstasy.

  She rises slightly, pressing her lips to my neck in a kiss that lingers too long, too possessively. I feel her smile against my skin.

  “Do you know how long I missed you?” she whispers, her breath hot against my throat. Her voice trembles with emotion, and when she pulls back to look at me, her eye is glistening with unshed tears.

  The raw need in her gaze terrifies me. It’s the look of an addict who’s finally gotten their fix after years of desperate craving.

  “Where am I?” I manage to croak, my throat dry. “What did you do to me?”

  Skye laughs, the sound light and musical, so achingly familiar it makes my chest hurt. She props herself up on one elbow, her naked body pressed against my side. I realize with a jolt of horror that I’m naked, too.

  “You’re home, Luke. Where you belong.” Her fingers trace patterns on my chest, nails lightly scraping my skin. “With me. Your first and only true wife.”

  As she speaks, her fingers drift lower, tracing the lines of my stomach. Her touch sends an involuntary shiver through me. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to will myself elsewhere. Anywhere but here, trapped beneath the weight of Skye’s obsession.

  I feel her shift, the sheets rustling as she straddles my hips. Her thighs press against me, pinning me with a strength that would be inescapable even without the invisible bonds holding me down. I can feel the heat of her body against mine, the slickness of her arousal as she grinds against me with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

  “You’re so hard for me, Luke,” she purrs, her voice thick with satisfaction. “I knew you would be. Just like always.”

  I choke back a gasp as she slides onto me, taking me in with a single, fluid motion. Her head falls back, the long line of her throat exposed as she lets out a low, throaty moan. The sound is one of pure, unadulterated pleasure, and I hate myself for the way it makes my pulse quicken.

  Skye begins to move on top of me, her hips rising and falling in a hypnotic rhythm that my body responds to against my will. As she rides me, she leans down, pressing hot kisses along my chest. I turn my face away, staring at the pristine white wall, trying to disconnect from what’s happening.

  “I’m disappointed in you, Luke,” she says, her voice a mixture of pleasure and genuine hurt.

  My body betrays me with each movement. The familiar sensation of her around me brings back muscle memories I’d tried to forget. Her body knows exactly how to move, exactly what pressure to apply. She clenches around me in a way that makes my toes curl.

  Through a grunt, I manage to ask, “How? How have I disappointed you?”

  She pauses in her movements, her single eye darkening as she reaches for my chest. Her fingers find my nipple and twist, not quite hard enough to be painful but enough to make me gasp.

  “Do you remember my last words before I died?” she asks, her voice suddenly cold. She stops moving completely, her eye boring into me with barely contained anger.

  The memory washes over me like ice water. The hospital room. The beeping machines. Her hand, so frail and cold in mine. The last whispered words as her grip weakened...

  I swallow hard and nod. “I would never forget that.,” I whisper.

  Skye’s face hardens. She quotes herself with chilling precision:” ‘You better not be far behind.’”

  Her words hang in the air between us, heavy with accusation.

  “I was too physically weak to kill you myself, Luke. But I believed you were loyal enough to at least follow me on your own.” Her voice cracks slightly. “Was I wrong?”

  “I tried, Skye,” I whisper, tears welling in my eyes. “I tried to follow you four times.”

  Her rhythm falters, her eye widening with surprise.

  “The first two times, I jumped off the Tobin Bridge,” I continue, my voice breaking. “Both times, someone pulled me out of the water. The Coast Guard the first time, some random fisherman the second.”

  Skye’s expression softens, her anger melting into something more complex, a mixture of satisfaction and sorrow.

  “The third time, I was home alone with a bottle of anti-depressants. Had the whole thing down my throat when my coworker showed up unexpectedly. He said he had a bad feeling.” I laugh bitterly. “Spent three days in the psych ward after that one.”

  Skye leans down, pressing her forehead against mine. Her hair forms a curtain around our faces, isolating us in our own little world. “And the fourth?” she whispers.

  “I put a revolver to my head and pulled the trigger. It just... clicked. Wouldn’t fire.” My voice is hollow as I recall the moment.

  Skye’s eye gleams with a dark satisfaction as she begins to move again, her hips rocking with renewed vigor. “You didn’t try again? Why stop?” she asks, grinding down harder.

  I turn my face away, shame and despair mingling in my chest. “Do you know how hard it is to try and kill yourself?” My voice cracks with emotion. “It was exhausting. Each time took everything I had.”

  A smile spreads across Skye’s face, the scar tissue around her empty socket crinkling. “Well then,” she purrs, “I guess you deserve a reward for your loyalty.”

  She tightens around me suddenly, internal muscles clenching with practiced precision. The sensation sends an unwanted jolt of pleasure up my spine, making me gasp despite myself.

  “See?” she whispers, leaning close enough that her lips brush my ear. “Your body remembers who it belongs to.”

  Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, trailing down into my hair.

  Skye kisses the tears from my cheeks, her movements becoming more urgent, more demanding. “You’re mine, Luke,” she breathes against my skin. “You’ve always been mine. Even death couldn’t change that.”

  “I’ll make you forget her,” Skye promises, her voice thick with pleasure and possessiveness. “Tomorrow, Mind Mistress will wipe her from your memory. It will be just like before. Just you and me.”

  Cold horror washes over me at her words, temporarily drowning out everything else. “No,” I gasp, struggling against the magical restraints with renewed desperation. “You can’t…”

  “Shh,” Skye presses a finger to my lips, her eye glittering with manic intensity. “Don’t worry about tomorrow. Focus on now. On us.”

  She leans down to kiss me, swallowing my protests. Her movements grow more frantic, her breathing coming in short, sharp gasps. I feel her trembling, teetering on the edge of release.

  With a cry that’s almost feral, Skye reaches her climax, her body shuddering above mine. The sensation pushes me over the edge against my will, my body betraying me one final time as I follow her into unwanted ecstasy.

  I release deep inside her, my body shuddering against my will. She collapses onto my chest, her skin slick with sweat, her breathing ragged against my neck.

  “Oh, how I missed this,” she moans, nuzzling against me like a contented cat.

  When she lifts her head, her single emerald eye gleams with feverish intensity. Her smile stretches wide across her face, bordering on manic, as she traces my jawline with trembling fingers.

  “Once you forget her,” Skye whispers, her voice thick with possessive joy, “we can live the rest of our days happily. We can just pick up where we left off...”

  She presses her lips to mine in a hungry kiss before continuing, “Our movie nights, our morning walks, our little rituals... it will be like I never left.” Her fingers tangle in my hair, gripping almost painfully. “Better, even. Here I’m a goddess, Luke. I can give you anything. Everything.”

  “Please don’t do this,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “Don’t take my memories of her.”

  Skye’s expression darkens. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” she hisses, her nails digging into my shoulders. “She’s poisoned your mind. Made you forget what obedience is. But that’s okay. It was fun training you last time.”