Dago was meditating.

Or at least he was trying to meditate. Usually he recharged his mana in a different way. More social. The word “sensual” would be better, but that was forbidden…

Focus, he reminded himself again and again until he remembered that meditation was about relaxation.

Breath, he told himself, struggling to tear away his thoughts from the word “relaxation,” which he associated with other ways to relax—ways which he should not be thinking about, even though they were measurably more pleasant than sitting on the pool edge.

It wasn’t that he had something against the pool. He loved his pool. Tiled in black like the rest of the bathroom, with its glass roof that let the sunrays in to dance on his silver-white scales, exposing their beauty while he enjoyed his bath. It was his favorite place in the entire castle.

Except, perhaps, his bedroom, which he liked just as much but which decisively didn’t fit into meditation practice.

Breath, he repeated, really decisively.

He took a slow breath…

…almost not remembering Hera Galenos taking a sharp breath in response to his touch…

…and slowly emptied his lungs, decisively pushing away the memories of her trembling body and her titillating taste on his tongue.

Again. An inhalation…

…his, not Hera’s…

…and exhalation.

I can do this, he thought, summoning his confidence in his abilities.

Of course he could renew the reserves of magical energy alone. He didn’t need anyone.

He couldn’t need anyone. It was his mana.

If people found out that he, Dago Midais, was unable to recover on his own after a three-day flying castle trip, it would be a disgrace not only to him, but also to the entire ancient line of businessmen who shared blood with the Queen of Nightmares herself.

But no one would know because he could recover. He just hadn’t done it alone for a while, and he hadn’t done it alone because it was more pleasant to do it together. Everyone had the right to pleasure, didn’t they? And certainly everyone would choose pleasure if they could…

But he couldn’t, and there was no point thinking about alternatives. At this moment, neither general memories of pleasant mana recharging nor specific visions of Hera Galenos caressing him with her sensual lips would help him.

Feeling a dangerous hardening below his stomach, Dago took a deep breath—pushing away associations with the word “deep”—and exhaled, desperately trying to remember why he’d refused an attractive proposal from an attractive woman who was the reason he was now so magically exhausted that he had to park his castle on a hill instead of several hundred chariots above the hill. It would only be fair for Galenos to help him restore the reserves he’d sacrificed for her sake. Especially since this whole trip was unnecessary, because—as he found out when they were already there—the maga hadn’t intended to fish for koralion from the beginning, even though that was the purpose of their trip.

Sweet nightmare, she should be licking and sucking him as if her life depended on it…

Dago swallowed and opened his eyes, hoping that the dark mirror of water would cut off his imagination and cool down the desires burning within him. He’d never before associated the word “attractive” with Hera Galenos, and now it seemed to be synonymous with her. That disturbed him. The fact that his perception had changed so much in just a few weeks worried him even more. But in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter. What counted was what he could gain.

An empowering promotion—that was what he’d wanted when he’d proposed the pact to Hera, and that was what he should focus on now. Her being a feast for his senses was just a bonus. Until the woman signed the marriage contract, thus lending him her exemplary reputation, the position of Archmagus remained a dream, and the wedding would not take place if he did anything that would scare or alienate her. He needed to encourage her and that meant that he should be fulfilling her desires. For now, at least.

There would be plenty of time later for fulfilling his desires. After the wedding, all the visions his imagination had been producing would become true. Hera Galenos in his bed, on the table, in the pool, face to face, from behind, standing, on her knees… Every part of her body would belong to him. Her every thought would follow his touch. Every sound that left her throat would be a paean praising him. He would possess her body and soul, and she would think that she gave them to him…

Dago swore under his breath and stood up. He couldn’t ignore the hard need throbbing between his legs any longer. He didn’t intend to immerse himself in his fantasies so deeply, but he’d never had a fiancée. It was natural that he needed time to get used to this state.

He went over to the shower in the corner. Leaning against the wall with one hand, he embraced his stiff manhood with the other and began to stroke it, imagining Hera Galenos caressing him. She would probably do it shyly at first, embarrassed to touch her long-time rival in such a way, but then she would swallow the shame and kneel before him like he was her king…

…and not a thoughtless lover to whom it didn’t occur that the woman pleasing them might have needs similar to them.

They didn’t offer and I didn’t ask.

Dago froze, feeling a new kind of craving. A dangerous craving. Dangerous not because someone might get hurt if he let it out—in his opinion, someone should get hurt—but because in the shadow of this brutal craving was another, more subtle and therefore even more disturbing.

He partially recognized it. How could he not when the desire to possess had driven him his entire life? But this… this differed from what he felt when he was thinking about power and gold. It was more like what he felt when he fantasized about taking possession of the body and soul of Hera Galenos… only deeper. Primal.

Dark.

Dago swallowed. Though he didn’t move his hand, his lust grew harder. In his mind’s eye, he saw Hera with her arms and legs tied to the pillars of his bed. There would be nothing surprising about it if it weren’t for the fact that this image did not fully satisfy him. At the bottom of his soul, there was a part of him that demanded more.

The body and soul weren’t enough.

The exclusive access to them was.

Dago lowered his hand. If there was one thing he knew about Hera Galenos, it was that she wouldn’t allow anyone to lock her in a treasury. He had to come up with a plan more subtle than kidnapping, but he wouldn’t be able to do that until he cooled down.

He turned on the cold water tap and stood in the shower until he couldn’t think about anything other than the cold biting his skin. When he finished drying himself with a towel, he looked up and saw that the crystal balls, which had been empty when he placed them around the octagonal pool, now glowed like a bright constellation in the night sky.

Really. He was so concerned about charging mana, and a simple technique had been enough to not only recover his own power but also create a reserve.

That’s what I need, he mused, looking at the little suns.

Simple solutions were usually the best.

Dago put on his robe and left the bathroom, heading toward the library on the floor below. In a few days, he and Galenos would go on their first public date. Since its main goal was to show themselves to as many people as possible, he couldn’t rely on carnal pleasure as much as he’d done when they’d been alone in his castle. He needed something more. Something spiritual. Something the woman would not only like but would appreciate so much that in the blaze of her genuine gratitude, there would also be a spark of equally genuine sympathy.

What would an exemplary student and science fan like? The answer was so simple it was funny.

A book.

A perfect bribe—no, a perfect gift for a grind.

A book was too spiritual to be a bribe, right?