"Why does it do that?"

"The haze?" He said absentmindedly as he took off his hat and put it on the corner of the chair before slowly beginning to unbutton his vest.

I found myself easing to the far side of the room and trying to distract him with talk. "Yes."

"It's not the robe. It's me. My magic leaves a film. Like frost."

"Why?"

He turned that blue gaze on me. "Do you truly care or you just buying time to put furniture between us?"

I found those keen eyes inescapable. I swallowed hard.

"Why am I here?"

"For my pleasure."

"But you said-"

"I said I wouldn't try to ravish you." He dropped down in the seat and thudded his boots up on the corner of the table as he linked his hands over his middle. "I've no qualms about wholly doing so."

"You tricked me!"

"I'm a mage." He tilted his head chidingly.

As if it's my fault for believing him.

"Everything I do is constructed of trickery."

I swallowed as I found more furniture to weave behind until I was as far from him, and that bed behind him, as I could possibly get.

He sighed. "Is this how you truly wish to play it?"

"Play what?"

"You're here to please me, you know you are."

"You told the king I was powerful."

"No." He stared intently at me. "I did not."

I racked my brain. Suddenly realizing that I needed to be far more careful when interpreting what he said.

"I'll help you..." He purred darkly. "I said 'power'."

"Well, what's that supposed to mean?" My voice rose.

"That you can be source of mine."

"H-h-how?" My back hit a wall and I realized I was in the corner.

"Nowhere to go now, is there?" He tipped his head forward. Blue eyes nearly glowing in the dim room.

I realized he'd not lit any candles and in my panic my eyes were now yellow. Wolf's eyes.

I'd instinctively changed them to see in the dark. "H-how can I feed your power?"

"By sating my hunger."

I wanted to turn and try and claw through the wall. "I don't know what you mean."

"I believe you wolves call it a Mating Moon."

"But you're a mage!" I objected.

"And a wolf." He said in a low echoing voice that made me feel like the walls were closing in.

"Now come to me." He coaxed.

I shook my head but despite myself I suddenly felt sleepy, bleary and my legs were moving back around the furniture and heading for him. "Please. Please stop."

"What?"

"Whatever you're doing to me."

He laughed coldly. "You'll learn, My Dear, no one tells me what to do."

"But you obey the king?"

He scoffed. "I do what suits my intent for the moment."

I swallowed hard. Clutching my thighs in some attempt to get them to stop moving forward.

Once I stood before him, he lifted his head. Letting it fall back against the chair and staring down his nose at me.

I was so close. Too close.

He was as unmoving as a statue. "Take off your dress."

I shook my head. Lips tight.

"If you want to save the dress, you'll do as I say." Warlord's tone was cold and decisive. As unfeeling as the mage, himself.

And despite that I knew I was trapped I couldn't help my obstinate nature. I'm going to lose this.

"No." I knew my eyes were bright with defiance. My hands fisted as I fought against the urge to obey him. Realizing his voice was doing something to me.

"Wet..." He lifted his chin and said the word slowly in that far off rumbling voice.

I yelped as I felt between my legs suddenly heat and dampen. I gasped as I clutched at myself trying to stop it. "No!"

What's happening to me?

"Yes." He dismissed. Emphasizing to give me another chance. "The dress."

I was panting in fear, but I couldn't pry my hands from my lady parts if I'd had to. They suddenly ached so bad it was nearly blinding. I felt as though I needed to stuff something inside me to make the nearly cramping discomfort stop.

"What are you doing to me?" I pleaded.

"Not nearly what I will." He eyed my hands clutching myself.

He leisurely lifted a hand from his stomach and pointed two fingers at me and made a slitting motion.

Mage magic.

The shoulders of my dress were ripped free, and the top of the gown folded forward. Exposing my thin chemise over my breasts and stomach. Catching only on the strings tying my apron at my waist.

He'd barely moved, and he was shredding my clothes from my body.