Under Imperial Discipline: Courier to the Tsar - Prologue: Part 2

MIKAEL: Asteria’s Lair, Another Dimension & Time

Asteria was His Mistress, the one who chose His missions and the worlds He was sent to conquer. She owned Him completely. When He pleased her, she guided Him. When He failed her, she disciplined Him. When she wished, she used Him.

White hair drifted around her in the starlit void. Her dark blue eyes burned as they pinned Him in place. The gown she wore was almost nothing, a strip of violet silk that barely contained her, clinging to each curve with every breath. It was the tight grip of her body around Him that bound Him to her. She moved with a rhythm He recognized, slowly drawing Him deeper. She set the pace and He accepted it.

He lifted His hips to match hers, to take back even a shred of control. He was not being rebellious. He was used to being in charge. Lifetime after lifetime, He had been the dominant force in every room but this one, and His mind drove Him to lead before His instinct could stop it.

She reacted the moment she felt Him try to take control. She lifted a hand and rested it on His chest.

“Stay,” she said calmly. “Forget yourself. Let me do the work.”

He exhaled, the reflex eased, tension draining out of His shoulders. In the void there was no ground and no gravity, only her body holding Him there. He had grown used to drifting there, but it always took a moment before He could surrender to her again.

She drew her nails down His chest.

“Empty your mind,” she said. “Forget the throne. Forget your consorts. In here, I am the only thing that matters.”

She laughed softly as she shifted her hips, pressing Him deep inside her. He felt Himself push harder into her.

“Did you miss me as much as I missed you, Mikael?” Her voice purred.

He tried to piece together how His life could have ended. His first thought went to the goblet Cora had handed Him. But it could not be poison or an assassin; His luck would have pushed back hard against that. A freak accident, then? He had missed something, some sign. His failure troubled Him.

Asteria was smiling, and that reassured Him. Maybe He’d already completed the mission she’d assigned to Him. The thought of what might happen if He failed made His erection soften inside her. He’d only been in the white room once, and that was more than enough.

“Mikael.” Her fingers stroked His chest. "Stop thinking. Be here, with me."

She shifted. Her inner muscles locked around His cock, a grip so sure it blurred His vision. Only she could do that to Him.

In the beginning, He’d often arrive here like this, wired from battle, unwilling to face the fact of His death. She’d use sex to burn off the adrenaline and quiet His mind.

It had been lifetimes since He’d needed it like this. Longer than He cared to count.

Eventually, He’d learned to be more careful, avoiding those situations where even His luck could not save Him. Now He’d choose when to die, hand His realm to His offspring, then lie down knowing she would be waiting here.

He’d forgotten the shock of losing command in the middle of it.

How much harder it was to give up a life without preparation or goodbyes.

“Let go Mikael. Feel our bond.”

She was the origin of the seed, the magic that kept His body in constant arousal and bound whoever received it. Now it called for her. It was the first bond, and stronger than any He had ever made.

Her hips ground down. His thoughts scattered, leaving only her above Him, dark blue eyes on Him. Her lips brushed His ear.

“Yield to me.”

The last of His tension snapped. He wanted nothing except to please her. His old life was over; it was time to surrender and prepare for the next mission. He loved having a place where He had no decisions to make. He wondered how long she would keep Him this time. He found Himself starting to look forward to it.

“You are mine.” Her pace increased, each thrust demanding His full attention. “Finally you remember what is good for you.”

Her body jolted as she came, and the bond drove her climax straight through Him. He shouted as it ripped His own orgasm out of Him in a shattering explosion, flooding her deep with pulse after helpless pulse, emptying everything He was deep inside her.

Her warm breath passed over His skin as she gave Him a knowing little smile. Her lips brushed His in a slow kiss. Then she lifted herself off Him steadily.

“I needed that,” she said with satisfaction. “And I do prefer you young and hard, rather than the tired old man you usually bring me.”

She stepped back, her gown shifting, glittering in the dark. Her eyes fixed on Him with a look He could not resist.

"Good. You’ve calmed down. Speak."

He got up, stretched, then looked back at her.

“Thank You,” then, “Mistress.”

“I love the sound of your voice, so young and full of vigour.” She laughed.

“Now,” she said. “We begin.”