Free Darkest Misery by Tracey Martin

Claudius. He was built much like Lucen—tall and broad-chested—but he had dark eyes, and his honey-blond hair spilled down past his shoulders. He was pretty, in a manly way. He looked like he’d stepped out of some medieval painting, or he would have if not for the perfectly modern shirt and jacket he wore.
    Also, and more importantly, power clung to him. My body was awakening with it. Although it was hard to tell how much of my reaction was caused by him and how much was due to my proximity to Lucen and Devon, I could smell his pheromones across the table, and that was enough to let me know they were working on me. His scent reminded me of the forest, filling my head with images of classical paintings. The sort that depicted satyrs of the mythological type playing pipes and frolicking with naked wood nymphs next to clear pools of water.
    Alluring and dangerous.
    So was the way Claudius’s gaze swept over me, as though he were evaluating me, and he likely was. I did my best not to squirm at the heat coming over my skin, but I could sense his magic brushing my mind like imaginary fingers running through my hair. My nipples hardened, and I was glad I wore a slightly padded bra so he couldn’t tell. This whole experience was icky enough without him getting to enjoy my reaction.
    From the corner of my eye, I could see Lucen and Devon both stiffen, but I held still and met Claudius’s gaze with every ounce of composure I could muster. Finally, his power withdrew, and he made a soft sound of satisfaction.
    Yup, I was being evaluated. Fuck that.
    â€œAre you going to introduce yourself or just mentally molest me for the rest of evening?” I faked a smile.
    Someone stifled a laugh—probably Devon—but I kept my attention on Claudius.
    To my surprise, he smiled. “I had to investigate you for myself. My apologies if you felt molested. Most people, I’m told, enjoy the experience.”
    â€œYour magic overpowers most people, and I’m not them. I’m a satyr.”
    Claudius rubbed his chin. “So I’ve been told, as well.”
    He sat back down, and the goblin pulled out a chair for me at last so I could do the same.
    â€œSo I’ve been told too.” I gave Lucen’s hand a squeeze under the table.
    Claudius leaned back, continuing to study me, but at least doing so less obtrusively. “I admit, I expected something more. You seem very human.”
    â€œI consider that one of my positive traits.”
    He didn’t respond directly, but he may have made a noise of derision. It was hard to tell, particularly since a waiter appeared with wine at that moment.
    Conversation turned to boring small talk while everyone ordered food. Polite questions were asked about Claudius’s flight, the local weather and the usual topics people discuss when they have nothing better to talk about. No one seemed to expect me to do much speaking, which was a relief. I sipped my wine and tore off bits of my dinner roll without tasting much.
    I was wondering if Lucen had been mistaken about the necessity of my presence when the conversation changed again with the arrival of the food. Dezzi brought up that tomorrow’s meeting would start at three in the afternoon.
    Claudius frowned, and something very weird happened. It was almost as though I felt his displeasure. Not tasted it, like I did human emotions, but felt it, like it had been planted in my mind. I could tell it was foreign, that it didn’t belong to me, but my body reacted to it all the same. Disconcerted, I picked up my utensils, hoping I was imagining things.
    â€œYou agreed to meet at such an early hour?” Claudius’s unhappiness was as evident in his tone as it was in my head.
    Dezzi set down her glass. “It is not an ideal hour for anyone. Such is the nature of compromise.”
    â€œNeither an ideal hour nor an ideal arrangement.” Claudius’s gaze fixated on me again, and I cursed