I couldn’t really manage any coherent answers, and most of my noises had lapsed into primal, unintelligible cries. All I wanted to focus on was us being together, the way it felt to have him pushing and rubbing, the way it must feel for him to be inside of me. I’d slid up on the bed; my head was practically in danger of hitting the headboard soon.

Suddenly, he pulled out abruptly and hovered back over me. His eyes, dark in this light, watched me, and I sensed that laconic, playful expression on his face. Both of us panted. I waited for him to return, feeling irate at this interruption. I’d been on the verge of coming again. Somehow I suspected he’d known that.

“What are you doing?”

“Waiting. Waiting for you to tell me to keep going.”

He wasn’t being cruel or mean. He was teasing me, toying with me the way he so enjoyed among the people around here.

“You fucking bastard,” I said. Somehow the profanity carried mild affection.

He laughed. “Should I take that to mean you want me to continue?”

“You know I do.”

“Then say it outright. Unless you’re going to get up and take me yourself.”

“Did I mention you’re a bastard?”

“Tell me you don’t want me to stop. Beg me. Beg me, and we’ll do this for the rest of the night.”

It was merely a game, another dimension of this power play and his dominance over me. And, much to my chagrin, it was a turn-on.

“Please,” I whispered.

“Please what?”

“Please…don’t stop. I want…I want you to keep…”

“Keep what?”

I sighed. “I want you to keep fucking me.”

He was back in me almost before the words had left my lips. I yelled out again as moments later, the delayed orgasm exploded in me. I shook and burned as that glittering sensation crackled through me. All the while, our bodies kept moving together. His face was near mine, watching with pleasure as I panted and struggled against a joy that was almost too intense.

“I hate you,” I gasped out.

He laughed and rained kisses down on my face. “No, you don’t.”

He was right.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

I stretched my arms above me, tucking my hands between my head and the pillow. Sunlight poured over me from the giant window but did little to help my troubled mood. I’d been sullen and quiet all morning. “Not likely.”

Dorian reached over to a tray of assorted pastries and sweets that had been sitting by the bed when we awoke. That and the newly built-up fire were only a couple of signs that tidying servants had been up and around in here. Their presence shouldn’t have bothered me; everyone had already believed Dorian and I were sleeping together. Yet, knowing others had moved around us while we slept still felt odd.

He popped a marzipan-stuffed tartlet into my mouth. I made a surprised sound but ate it anyway. He had excellent cooks. “Well, then, let me guess anyway. I do so love trying to reason out your thoughts.”

He grinned at me, every inch the lighthearted and frivolous man I usually knew. He bore almost no trace of the impassioned lover from last night, the one who’d repeatedly told me in explicit detail exactly what he could do to me if he wanted-and then proved that he could.

I rolled to my side, putting my back to him. “Knock yourself out.”

“All right. You’re now realizing you did the unthinkable. You made love to me-one of the shining ones. You crossed over that invisible line, and now the horror and regret of that is eating you up.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, that’s not what I’m thinking.”

“Oh.”

I heard him shift again and then felt a cookie balanced delicately on my arm. I snagged it and munched on it, getting crumbs on the sheets while he reconsidered. Lemon sugar.

“Very well. How about this: You’re thinking about the kitsune. About Kiyo. You miss him and lament what happened. Being with me makes you feel guilty.”

I hadn’t been thinking about Kiyo, but mentioning him suddenly brought him to mind. I did miss Kiyo. I missed the easy way we interacted, his solid and steady presence. I missed the way he held me and made me feel safe.

“No.”

“Hmm. Well, then. My perception appears to be off this morning. It has been known to happen once or twice before.”

I stared out the window, unsettled emotions turning over and over in me. Finally, I said, “I’m bothered by…how it was last night. How rough it was.”

“Truly? I really don’t know you so well. I thought you enjoyed it.”

“I did.”

He waited a beat. “Forgive me, then, but I don’t quite grasp your concern.”

I rolled back over toward him, and it all spilled out. “Don’t you get it? All this time I’ve been trying to avoid hordes of gentry and monsters from raping me. And yet…that’s essentially what happened last night. I let you…I let you be aggressive and possessive. And then I liked it. What’s that say about me? What’s wrong with me?”

Dorian’s face shifted to that rare and serious concern that sometimes seized it. He reached out and cupped my face with both of his hands. “Oh, gods, no. Is that what’s upset you? Eugenie, Eugenie. That’s not rape. Rape is brutal. Rape is done against your will, usually with someone you hate-or at least like a little less than me. What we did last night…that was a game. I believe it initially helped you get over a mental stumbling block, but after that…there was nothing violent or bad. It was a…novel way of approaching sex. You consented. There’s nothing wrong with you for liking it.”

Maybe he was right, but it still made me feel strange. “I’ve just never done anything like that. I’ve had rough sex before but never anything so…kinky.”

“Kinky. Fantastic word. It always takes us awhile to catch up with your world’s slang.”

“It makes things weird between us. I mean, weirder than usual.”

He ran his hand over my cheek and through my hair. “Then tell me how to make things right.”

“I don’t know.”

“Perhaps this will cheer you up: We’re ready to go to Aeson’s now.”

“What?” That didn’t cheer me up so much as surprise me. Where had this come from?

“We can go whenever you wish.”

“You’re giving in because I have morning-after regrets?”

“I’m ‘giving in’ because you crossed the point I wanted you to with your magic.”

I scoffed and rolled away. “Bullshit. I can make water drops appear in the air. Somehow I doubt that’s the life-or-death difference needed on this mission.”

“The life-or-death factor here is that you can control a fine portion of your magic now. I needed that to happen before I felt comfortable on this venture. I couldn’t risk your emotions flaring and creating a storm that might kill us. Now, you may very well still have some sort of magical breakdown, but I believe your current skills will go far to at least minimize the impact.”

“Then what you said before-about it being protection in case I was defenseless…”

“Yes. I’m afraid that was a ruse. I’d hoped the thought might spur you on to try harder.”

Typical Dorian. His absurdity made me half-smile.

“You’re happier now?” he asked.

“I don’t know if happy is the right word, but I will be when the Jasmine thing is over.”

“Excellent. Come here.”

He motioned me into his outstretched arm, and for a moment, I expected an advance. Like a Hey, baby, I’ll make you happier type thing. I moved over tentatively, and he only put his arms around me. Just that simple. No jokes. No kinkiness. Just a simple embrace between two people, two people close enough to have rattled the headboard last night. I took comfort in it, relaxing into his warmth and security. He wasn’t Kiyo, but he felt nice.

At last he moved his face away so he could look at me. “Very well, then. Tell me how you would like this to unfold.”

Staging another heist turned out to take a fair bit of planning and didn’t actually unfold until later the next day. We assembled all three of my minions in one of Dorian’s lounges. They waited patiently for orders, each watching me as their minds undoubtedly stirred with their assorted neuroses. As Volusian had once pointed out, they had little to lose. They couldn’t die. When Dorian called in Shaya to join us, I couldn’t help an exclamation of surprise.