The locked door clicked. Having quickly learned her lesson, she stood well back from it. The wizards that had brought her food and water the last several times had a tendency to jolt her with punishing pain—another indication she was in Sammael—if she stood too near the door.

There were no clocks in the room—apparently those weren’t considered necessary to sustain life—but it seemed like the wrong time for the delivery of the adequately nourishing and totally boring meals. The lack of time also meant she wasn’t entirely sure how many days she’d been kept captive. Maybe three, counting by fairly predictable routine. This visit was at the wrong time, she was sure of it, which did not bode well.

Sure enough, Sergio Sammael swanned into the room, smug smile distorting his handsome features as he looked her over. “Darling Veronica, you’re looking lovely.”

Nic plucked at the revealing black slip of lacy lingerie she’d been wearing when she awakened, her dress gone and no other clothing options available. At least they’d taken the collar off, too. “The latest fashion at Convocation Center? I must be behind the trends.”

Sergio smiled thinly. “You belong to me now, so you will wear what I please.” His gaze raked her with lewd interest, leaving her feeling soiled. “And your current apparel pleases me greatly. Mind your tongue, familiar, or I’ll keep you entirely naked.”

The threat worked all too well, and Nic bit her tongue, much as she wanted to point out that, in no permutation of Convocation law, did she belong to the odious wizard.

Appeased, Sergio glided toward her. “I’ve come to service you.” His black eyes glittered with malicious glee, and she took an involuntary step back, hitting the curved wall of the small room immediately. “Not that,” he snapped, though his gaze dipped to her scantily clad bosom. “Not until you’re a bit more tame,” he added silkily, absently fingering his bruised and bloodied lip.

He’d tried to embrace her in the carriage, and she’d fought him, managing to land several punches along with a bite on his lip. Sergio, a coward at heart, eyed her warily. He’d managed to immobilize her with pain so searing she’d dropped to the floor, unable to breathe—probably that’s when she’d passed out—but he clearly hated experiencing any pain himself. There was a reason Maman had recommended him for a potential match. If Nic had been bonded to him, she could’ve found ways to use his fears and weak will against him.

She also would’ve suffered greatly in his hands, which she had no intention of doing now. She might be his prisoner, but she was far from helpless.

“I’ve come to tap your magic,” Sergio informed her. “You must be needing the relief by now.” He managed to make the word sound dirty. His wizard-black eyes glittered with lascivious greed.

“You can’t,” she replied firmly. “I’m a bonded familiar. My magic belongs to Lord Phel.”

“Your former master is dead,” Sergio spat. “We both know that. You weren’t even clever about how you tried to conceal that from me, but I knew before we arrived. Such a pity House Phel commands so little loyalty from its minions. Sammael would never tolerate such latitude.”