Chapter 44: Answer [4]

"Yes, Lady Yelena," she squeaked, shooting Cane one last, wide-eyed, flustered look before hurrying back toward the main tents, her round ass jiggling in a frantic, hypnotic rhythm that Cane watched until she was well out of earshot.

Once the maid was gone, the silence between them stretched, thick and heavy with unspoken filth. The wind rustled the willow leaves near the pond.

Cane stayed flat on his back, hands resting behind his head, showing off the lean, defined lines of his chest and stomach. He looked up at her through half-lidded eyes.

"So? What’s the verdict, commander? Did you come all the way out here to surrender, or are you just admiring the view?"

Yelena’s fists clenched at her sides, her knuckles turning white against her short skirt. Her chest rose and fell in sharp, ragged pants, the fabric of her cropped blouse pulling taut over the tight, pert mounds of her breasts.

"I’ve made my decision," she said, her voice barely louder than the breeze, though she fought to keep it from trembling.

Cane’s smile widened, sharp and victorious. "Great. I’ll just unzip my—"

"No!"

The word cut through the air like a whip crack. Yelena glared down at him with enough murderous intensity to ignite dry timber, her cheeks burning a furious, dark red.

"I am not sucking your cock, Cane Valerian! Not now. Not ever. If that is your only condition, then you can take your five worthless disciples and starve in the woods!"

Cane raised an eyebrow, entirely unfazed by the outburst. He didn’t sit up. He just looked at her, letting the silence sit between them like a challenge.

"Alright," he drawled softly. "Then why are you standing over me looking like a girl who’s about to make a terrible mistake?"

Yelena’s lips parted, a shudder running through her slender frame. She looked away, staring furiously at the mud at the pond’s edge, unable to hold his gaze. When she spoke again, the arrogance was entirely gone, replaced by a humiliating, breathy submission that sent a savage jolt of heat straight to Cane’s cock.

"A compromise," she whispered, the words tasting like poison on her tongue. "You get them back in line. You make Marcus’s remaining dogs stand down, and you help me keep this camp secure until the proctors call the exam."

"And what do I get?"

She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing. Her fingers dug into the side of her skirt, bunching the fabric until her pale, smooth thighs were exposed nearly to the hip.

"You can touch me," she choked out, her face burning so hot it looked painful. "You can grope me. Wherever you want. However you want. As long as you like. But you don’t put it in, and my mouth stays clean. That is the offer. Take it, or choke on it."

Cane’s mind raced, running the calculations against the invisible architecture of the Bitch Stealer System.

Oral was the gold standard for immediate dominance, sure. But the system was a degenerate beast that operated on thresholds of submission and corruption. He’d triggered a massive quest completion just by looking up Aria’s skirt and catching a flash of pink cotton. An aristocratic, fiercely proud noble girl giving him carte blanche to fondle her body without restriction? Hands anywhere he pleased?

That wasn’t a compromise. That was a wide-open door.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face, lighting up his dark eyes with unholy intent.

"Deal."

Before the word had fully left his lips, Cane’s hand shot out.

His fingers clamped tight around her slender wrist. With a sudden, explosive heave of thirteen points of Strength, he yanked her down.

Yelena let out a sharp, undignified shriek as her balance vanished. She tumbled forward, her knees buckling, and landed squarely across his lap with a soft, breathy impact.

Her tight, rounded ass settled directly over his groin, the heat of her pelvis pressing hard against the rising bulge behind his trousers. The skirt rode up instantly, bunched around her waist, leaving the smooth, bare skin of her thighs splayed over his legs. She smelled incredible—expensive jasmine perfume mixed with the faint, sharp musk of terrified sweat.

Yelena went rigid as a board, her entire body locking up in sheer panic. Her hands flew to his bare shoulders, pushing against him with a frantic, token resistance, her hips wiggling in a useless attempt to break his grip. But every slight writhe of her backside only ground her plump, perfect butt deeper into his lap.

"C-Cane! Let go—wait!"

He didn’t let go. He slid one large, calloused hand flat against her bare stomach, right beneath the knot of her cropped blouse. Her skin was burning hot, satiny smooth, the muscles of her abdomen twitching and fluttering under his palm as he stroked downward toward the waistband of her skirt.

"Relax, commander," Cane murmured into the crook of her neck, his breath stirring the fine blonde hairs at her ear. "We had an agreement, didn’t we? Hands wherever I like."

From thirty yards away, Priya, who had stopped near the cooking pots to look back, froze in place. Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes practically bulging out of her skull as she watched her proud, untouchable mistress pinned across the scumbag’s lap like a tavern wench.

Yelena felt the weight of that distant stare. A strangled whine caught in her throat, her face buried against Cane’s bare shoulder to hide the mortifying crimson flooding her features.

"Not here," she hissed, her voice shaking violently against his skin. "Not in front of the camp, you monster. I swear to the gods, if you humiliate me in front of my own people—"

"Fair enough," Cane chuckled, his fingers tracing a lazy, insolent circle over her navel. "I prefer a little privacy anyway. A proper grope deserves an audience of none. We’re going into the woods."

Yelena’s teeth ground together so hard he heard the enamel click. She snarled, a tiny, feral sound of pure defeat, but she gave a single, jerky nod against his neck.

Cane glanced over her shoulder toward the camp.