The Love of a Slave

Arielle was sprawled across the bed when Coran walked into the room. She was laying sideways, her legs dangling off the edge as she kicked and folded them absently. She was intent on burying her nose further into her Cosmopolitan and pretending she didn’t notice him.

Coran smiled at the back of her head, using her constant contempt for him as a source of entertainment. “Good evening, love.” He said jovially, settling on the bed beside her. “I see your latest package was delivered to you.” He nodded toward the magazine in her hands. She spared him a quick glance and grunted in reply.

He moved closer to her, trying to ignore the way se shrunk away from him. “Don’t be this way, love.”

“Don’t call me that.” She replied, her voice ringing with hostility. “I’m not your love, or your pet, or your anything.”

He gave her a small, almost sad smile. “But that’s where you’re wrong, Kitten. You’re my everything.”

“Stop trying to butter me up.” She said, rolling her eyes. “You’re not going to get in my pants, no matter how hard you try.”

“Alas, I realize that.” He said, mocking sorrow. “I have given up all hopes of it long ago. However,” he pulled the magazine from her grasp. “That doesn’t mean I can’t have other sorts of fun with you.”

Arielle eyed him apprehensively, shifting to sit up. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He conjured a white rectangular box in his hands, wrapped with a blood red bow. He handed it to her, smiling indulgently at her look of surprise. “A gift for you, my dear.” He said, watching her intently as she untied the bow, glancing wearily at him out of the corner of her eye.

She lifted the lid of the box, her breath hitching in her throat as she pulled out the most beautiful gown she had ever seen. She hopped off the bed, holding up the dress so she could see it at full-length. “Coran..” she began uncertainly. “I… what is this?”

“Why, it’s a gown, of course.” He replied playfully.

She scowled at him, though he was pleased to see it didn’t reach her eyes. “I know that,” she said with irritation. “But, why are you giving it to me?”

“You are going to wear this beautiful gown,” he said, standing up to hold it against her. “At the upcoming ball.”

The dress slipped from Arielle’s hands as her eyes went wide with horror. “No…no.” she backed away. “I won’t go.”

“It’s not open for debate, Arielle.” Coran said, picking up the gown from its heap on the floor. “You are to be my guest.”

“I won’t…” she repeated. She looked almost desperate. “I can’t.”

Coran ran a frustrated hand through is hair. “Since I’ve brought you here, Arielle, you’ve scarcely even left my chambers.”

“And that’s not about to change.” Arielle replied haughtily, regaining some of her composure.

“When will you let go of your ridiculous fear, Arielle?” he asked, his eyes coming alight with amusement as her nostrils flared with fury.

“I’m not afraid of anything.” She snapped, stepping forward to confront him face to face.

“You forget, love,” he said with a bemused grin. “That we Fey Folk can read your deepest thoughts.”

Her defiance wavered for a moment to show a glimpse of her uncertainty. “You’re bluffing.”

“You are quite wrong.” He said, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist. He tightened them only when she tried to wiggle out of his grasp. “You see, the night my servants brought you to me, I probed your thoughts.” He grinned devilishly at her. “Really, Arielle, who would have thought a strong girl like you, would be terrified of faeries?”

“Shut up.” She snapped. “I’m not afraid of you---any of you.”

“Then you should have no problem agreeing to go to the ball with me.”

“I said I wasn’t afraid of your kind.” She muttered, still struggling against his embrace. “I never said I liked them.”

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And that is the end of the first chapter. I have the second chapter already written, so if you are all nice and give me at least 5 reviews, I'll get it to you superfast