I hate my boss. He is a jerk, really.
The room is filled with a faint magnolia scent. I don't know which is scarier: his chest pressed against mine, his hair tangled on my cheek, tickling my skin like velvet; or the fact that I am aroused by him. I dry-swallow, trying to avoid his blazing gaze. Dear Nox, help me!
"So, did you print my document?" His voice is low, growling.
"Well," I say. Fuck you. "I did, but the amalgam broke."
He is smiling. A really scary creak that makes my skin crawl. "So, did you fix it?"
Fix what? My arse? I think it secretly, but my mouth says otherwise. I hate my cowardice. Sometimes I think my words will turn poisonous and kill me. "I did call the Machinarii." I pause, considering whether I should lie.
The answer? I lied. "But they won't answer."
He looks at me strangely. For a moment, I am terrified, thinking he is an Umbrae, or a mind-reader, but then I remember that I am. He, on the other hand, sits at the opposite end of the spectrum: the most powerful Talin in the hierarchy, a Carnifex.
This whole ordeal is a mess. I wish I could read minds properly, but my ability is whack. Sadly, I inherited the most useless and weakest power among the Umbrae: emotional haunting. Not even whispers; the luring voice that can hypnotise humans. As a master of words, I would describe my power as manifesting through the emotions of others, triggering psychic collapse or prophetic trances. In short, I am just a stress-release toy. Harsh words, but true.
"So you didn't fix it." His expression clearly says I know. "And you still expect to be paid, do you?"
"Of course I do." I bite my lip hard enough to almost taste blood. "But, sir… what am I supposed to do now?"
"I don't know," he says. "Quit your job?" He presses me back against the wall. "Or we could do something more interesting."
My blood boils. There is something hot inside me, straining to rise. At first, I am blinded by the fog in my head, ironic, considering I am supposedly gifted in "emotion manipulation".
Then it hits me.
He is using his power on me.
If I am right, he stands at the very top of the hierarchy. The one who has everything. His power, put simply, is control. Compared to my pathetic ability, his is flawless. Carnifex. Their bodies are living engines: blood binding, pheromonal compulsion, the transmutation of pain into power, healing through consumption, and most importantly, the privilege of controlling mating. They can dominate heats, especially in those of a lower order.
Like me.
Which means he is controlling my body right now.
That sounds horrible. Truly.
I try to stand on my feet, but my legs feel like butter. "Um… I promise I will, sir."
I force my voice to stay soft, sweet, careful not to provoke the grizzly bear while he's in a sensitive mood. He smiles at me, but there is nothing comforting about it.
"You'd better," he says, placing a hand on my hip, then sliding it lower, far too close to my groin. Alarm bells scream in my head. My back arches instinctively, and something crawls beneath my skin, as if I am wearing a flesh suit that doesn't quite belong to me.
"Yes… yes, sir." I try to calm him using my power. I lower my defences, let the hormones flow. Then I slip into his mind, nudging his chaotic aura with a subtle trance, easing it down with my scent.
He takes a deep breath. For a moment, his aura settles.
I thought I was safe, but it was only a trap. In a split second, faster than thought, his aura shifts into something sharper and more aggressive, like fuel meeting fire, hungry to burn everything down. The heat becomes impossible to endure.
His presence crashes over me, pulling me into a spiralling madness, hemming me in with a brutal, overwhelming sensuality. Something begins to move through my veins, flowing with my blood, rushing straight towards my most sensitive places.
I try to scream, but his lips seal my mouth shut.
"Mm… mm," I breathe through my nose. Try is the right word, because I am already overwhelmed by his heavy scent, searing itself into my memory. I can smell him clearly, a fresh floral note layered with something darker, sharp like leather and cedar. His tongue searches my mouth, greedy, claiming everything, as if he wants to take me whole and pull me deep into himself.
The way he kisses is animalistic, feral. It drags me into a distant place of longing, tangled with lingering, prophetic trances. Just when I think it is over, his strong arms lift me onto the table and pin me down, possessive and unrestrained.
What happens after that is a blur. I like to imagine that I am screaming, shouting even, my hands clawing at his skin like a cat's, raking down his back and leaving long, flaming marks. In reality, the only sound that escapes me is his name, torn from my throat, begging him to stop, pleading for him to let me go.
It is useless.
My clothes are ripped away under his force, piece by piece, until there is nothing left to shield me. He bends over me, greedy and unrestrained, his attention roaming over every vulnerable part of my body. Whatever remains is stripped away, leaving me utterly exposed beneath him.
"No. Please." I try to reason with him, but it only makes things worse. His aura presses down harder, crushing, suffocating. I can feel his control tighten, invading, overwhelming, leaving me arching helplessly as my body reacts against my will.
Movement blurs into sensation. Up and down. In and out. My thoughts scatter, reduced to heat and panic, until the only thing I can hear is his low laughter, echoing above me.
"You like it, honey?" It sounds more like a statement than a question. He knows I will like it. No, that I will love it.
For some reason I cannot explain, tears begin to spill down my face. My emotions slip out of control, breaking apart into uneven, breathless sobs as he pushes into me with such force that it feels as though my body is being torn in two. I cling to his back, fingers digging in, holding on clumsily like a drowning person grasping for something solid. He takes me with his body, steady and unyielding, dominant in the way his order has always been.
"Please," I hear my own voice, thin and fragile, just once more before I lose myself completely. "Please use protection. I'll get pregnant."
He leans down, brushing my tears away with his lips. "What if I don't?" His voice is teasing, edged with challenge. "What would you do then?"
That is the last thing I hear.