Savage Satisfaction by Lila Dubois Page B

side of his chest. William nodded shakily and left, locking
the door behind himself.
     
    “I can’t stay locked in here.”
    “Would you please shut up about it?” Christoffer groaned.
    “This is prison.”
    “Yeah, it is. Guess what? You deserve it. You just attacked
him. If he went to human police about this they’d send you to prison. What did
you think you were doing? All he wanted was for you to be obedient. Change,
change back. That’s all he asked.”
    She fell silent over that. But—unfortunately—the silence
didn’t last.
    “I’m obedient,” she said.
    If she really believed that she was deluded. “No, you’re
not. You think you’re obedient but you want your own way more than you want to
obey. You may have been a good daughter, or whatever it was that made you think
you’re obedient, but you’re selfish.”
    “I’m not.”
    Christoffer rolled to face the wall, though the whole
building was dark so it didn’t make a difference what way he faced. He was
trapped, truly trapped, for the first time in his life. Before, he’d always
been able to call his father if serious matters intruded on his pleasure. His
father always found him a way out of whatever situation he was in.
    But his father would not find him a way out of this; it was
his father who had sent him here.
    “I am not obedient?”
    He gritted his teeth. He’d tried being nice to her, but
after what she’d done all he wanted was for her to shut up and not make the
situation any worse. She was selfish and annoying. “Glad you finally understand.”
    “If I am not obedient what’s going to happen to me?”
    “You’ll have to learn.”
    “What if I can’t?”
    “Then you’ll live in this fucking little prison forever.”
    She didn’t speak again. Christoffer lay awake in the dark
for a long time.
    * * * * *
    Mirela lay on her belly, arms tucked against her chest.
    The life she’d imagined under the rule of the lord was a far
cry from the life she now led. She hadn’t expected anything grand—a simple
room, chores and a few days each month spent flying for the lord’s pleasure.
She’d expected to, for the most part, find herself alone while at the lord’s
house.
    She’d been an obedient daughter, doing chores, helping her
mother, never sneaking out the way her sisters did.
    Lying in the dark with her face streaked with tears, she
could admit that her status as “tribute” had afforded her some leniency. Her
sisters had not been able to fly as often as she. There was always something
they should be learning—cooking, sewing, jewelry making—and so they did not get
to take to wing as often as she had.
    It was the same for her brothers—there was always something
to do as humans that prevented them from taking to wing.
    The wolf was right, she was selfish. She wanted her
pleasure—flying—more than she wanted to please Lord William.
    The next time Lord William came for her she would do exactly
as he asked. She winced at the memory of what she’d done to his face.
Christoffer had been right—she’d aimed for his eye. The confined space had
thrown her off and she hadn’t had the power to aim properly, which was a stroke
of luck. What would have happened if she’d blinded him?
    Despite the self-lecture and her remorse over the injury
she’d caused, Mirela wanted nothing more than to be free.
    * * * * *
    It took nine stitches to close up his face.
    William had gone to his personal physician—a woman he paid
privately rather than deal with the National Health Service. He suspected the
doctor did not believe his story of falling from his horse in the woods but she
said nothing. He was given lovely pain pills and it wasn’t until the first one
took effect that he realized how much pain he’d been in.
    He drove back to the house, in total disregard for the
warnings on the pill bottle, arriving well after midnight.
    He staggered up the stairs only to stop halfway.
    It had been ten hours since he fed Mirela and