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[Xoriah]

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“Please, Mistress.” His fervent plea hastened her heart, and instantly she was awash with the exhilaration of his will bent to her. “It would seem the chains are required as part of the Covenant.” He lifted his eyes, seeking her face, and her response.

Xoriah nodded once and touched the top of his head lightly as he knelt. Her fears and suspicions had been well-founded, and the day she had hoped would not come, had. The pale white orbs of her eyes searched his, and found only earnest hope and devotion. “As you wish, Angel, so would I have it.”

Soft leathery wings furled upon her back, she went to the hook beneath the wall torch and lifted the golden chained shackles and key, then returned to where the angel knelt. She tilted her head, watching the convergence of emotion in Mikhaeil’s eyes as she fastened first one wrist, then the other, and locked the shackles securely.

Mikhaeil again lifted his gaze to hers, searching for any sign of guilt or distress for her having granted his request. Xoriah gentled a gloved hand against his cheek and smiled in response. “I gave you permission to turn from me, Mikhaeil. To hate me as any slave should his captor. That you still look upon me with such adoration is amazing to me. How can I possibly refuse you fulfillment of this Covenant, or your desire to return to the arena? If the shackles are required, so be it. I will not mourn the loss of a minor freedom if it will allow you to pursue greater ones.”

The flaxen-haired angel looked down at the shackles, the merest hint of trepidation clouding his pale green eyes. He pondered, no doubt, how the chains might impede his ability to train and fight.

“You will find that I have paid a goldsmith to add five links to the chain.” Xoriah offered matter-of-factly, without a shade of remorse. “It should futher your reach. Any more, I’m afraid, might only serve to encumber.”

Mikhaeil lifted his gaze, eyes alight. The succubus wondered whether it was gratitude for her gesture or for her acceptance of the shackles without guilt, that shone in his eyes. Perhaps, she thought, a little of both.

The angel’s response was as simple as it was heavy-laden, and sincere.

“Gratitude, Mistress. Thank you.”
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Come with me where chains will never bind you...all your grief at last, at last behind you. ~Les Miserables

[Mikhaeil]

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Mikhael stood beside the chair, his malachite gaze soft as he watched Xoriah in slumber. He'd asked much of her over recent days. Remove the chain. Replace it. Then there had been last night's penultimate request: Keep the covenant with me. Tighten dominion over submission. There exists no allotment for less, as such is the demand of this Providence. He had no right to ask her for anything, he literally had no rights at all.

He shifted his stance, lowering his eyes to the golden shackles encircling his wrists and the chain that bound him to the weight of their purpose. He must appear weak to those who took notice, little more than a muscle-bound submissive. This was a different world than that from which he'd come, a completely different existence. It begged him a great challenge. With his Domina's consent and the love shared between them, it was a challenge that would not go unconquered.

[Mikhaeil]

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"Gratitude, gypsy." Mikhaeil took the plate of food offered him, sparing a slight smile in Agositino's direction. "Give thought to your words before speaking them. Next time may not find me as forgiving."

"Yes, Doctore." Agostino's face betrayed no emotion, his voice no hint to his thoughts.

"Go now. Enjoy your day off, free man."

Mikhaeil set the plate aside as soon as he was alone. While the fried eggs and venison sausage certainly looked appetizing, he had no need for such sustenance. Sending the gypsy to task in the kitchen had been an act of discipline meant to serve no other purpose. Acquainted too well with that agony, the idea of taking a whip to another man's back still repulsed him although he knew it was only a matter of time before some circumstance would come to require it.

He shifted his gaze toward the dying embers of the fire Agostino had used for cooking. If only the flames that burned deep inside him would also extinguish. Instead their intensity had steadily increased over recent days. And what of the unusual fatigue?

Something was happening he couldn't explain.