Possessing Allura by Reese Gabriel

it was straightforward. So long as the woman kept her distance she had all the power, but once she allowed the breaching of that barrier, though the touch be slight, everything shifted to the male. Her freedom, her very life was in his hands. ‘Uncle, you must give me a chance, alone, to explain,’ she pleaded, seeking to hide her increasing desperation. ‘There is more here than meets the eye.’
    â€˜What could there be to explain?’ Montreico argued. ‘The law is clear. Fortragian, do you not side with me?’
    The elderly grand duke frowned heavily. ‘The law is the law, Allura,’ he decreed. ‘I cannot override it, even for you.’
    â€˜She is spoiled meat,’ the baron pointed out, quite unnecessarily, ‘and she has but one chance at redemption; a legitimate union with the offended party.’
    Allura’s heart seized in her chest. The man couldn’t possibly propose marriage, not after all that had taken place between them. ‘Uncle,’ she desperately babbled, ‘I will never wed this man, do you hear me?’
    â€˜Allura, the choice is no longer yours. And need I remind you that should the baron refuse you I shall be forced to sentence you to slavery as a harlot?’
    â€˜Me, a slave?’ she gasped. ‘But I am crown princess!’
    â€˜If slavery be too good for you there is always the option of death,’ reminded the baron. ‘And I would be happy to loan my hangman to your uncle for the occasion.’
    â€˜I hate you!’ she screamed, turning on him with fists flying, but the baron made no effort to stop her pounding his chest, an action that only made her look all the weaker and hysterical.
    â€˜I shall have to consider the matter, Fortragian,’ he said flatly. ‘In the morning I shall give you my decision as to whether I’ll have her or not.’
    Allura stopped her useless attack, and burying her head in her hands she reverted to the use of tears. In the past it had helped her win her own way, but not now.
    â€˜I am afraid I have grown quite fatigued, your excellency,’ Montreico said. ‘Until tomorrow, then?’
    â€˜Very good, baron.’ The duke returned his crisp bow, then turning to his niece he said curtly, ‘Pull yourself together, girl. You got yourself into this mess. You’ve no one to blame but yourself.’
    He left her alone to contemplate her options. He was right; she must pull herself together. What was she going to do? Drawing a deep breath she gazed into the night. She could wait until the baron was asleep and slit his throat; she could hardly imagine anyone missing such a man. But what if she should fail in her attempt? Montreico was obviously a cunning and treacherous man, of the sort not likely to be overtaken even in his sleep.
    No, if she was to defeat him she must use her wits. She must beat the man at his own game. To begin with, she could be assured he would want her hand in marriage, which must have been his plan all along, to marry into the royal house, to gain leverage over the crown princess. And therein would lay his undoing. The man’s greed would fell him. She would make his life a living hell, removing from him every joy until he either begged her to release him from his vows, or to plunge a dagger into his heart to end his misery. In less than a year’s time, she predicted, she would be rid of him and sitting on the throne all by herself. Yes, it was the perfect solution. An immediate marriage would make her uncle happy and she would be one step closer to a life free of men all together.
    The only small hitch was her confounded libido. She must in no way succumb to her desires. She must never again give in to his kiss or melt at his touch, and she must never, ever, under any circumstances give herself to the brute physically.
    It would be a sexless marriage, and if she had to masturbate a hundred times a day or even give her favors over