Moral Compass

Chapter Five

Fallon, the moral enforcer of the Amazons, wasn't shitting around when she told him they had five minutes. Her eyes rarely strayed from her watch. She alerted him with the pass of every minute until their time ran out.

He was still waiting by the final minute for Evie to jump out from behind some furniture and tell him he'd been punked. But she didn't show and the Amazon displayed no signs of changing her mind.

Her bag was already fixed over her shoulder, her trench coat abandoned on his floor and forgotten about.

In a physical fight with Fallon, Seth didn't stand a chance. Everything about her screamed power. From her built thighs to the defined stretch of skin he saw of her stomach.

She'd dominate him in every sense of the word. Sense told him he'd never be given the chance to see that dominance take form in the bedroom.

A pity. This woman would be his latest wet dream.

He'd always dreamed of being dominated. Dominated in ways he was sure only this woman would know how.

With only seconds left, she grabbed his rucksack, completely unfazed by the weight. She slung it over her shoulder, grabbed his arm and slammed down on her portal jumper.

He was assaulted by the heat before he could find his bearings. The heat didn't touch that of Veneficus, but it was still heat he hadn't been expecting. Everything threw him. He was thrown by the heat. By the rubble of the ground beneath his feet. By the sun battering down on his shoulders. When his eyes opened, the sun was in his sights, well and truly blinding.

The effects of a portal jumper were immediate. Fatigue hit him. He wobbled, stumbling to catch his footing. Meanwhile, the Amazon had no problem steadying herself. Worse, she wasn't suffering the way he was at all.

She dumped his backpack to the ground, unfazed by the intensity of the sun and sighed. Then, like an afterthought, she dropped the portal jumper too.

He stared at it for a second, contemplating making a dive—only she beat him to it.

She stomped on it hard, crushing it beneath her gladiator sandal, and gave it a twist for good measure.

Stomping on my heart.

He was stuck out here with her. The most terrifying woman he'd ever laid his eyes on.

Hot.

"Why would you do that?"

"We won't be needing it," She answered blankly.

"They—you—holy shit." He bent over, clutching his knees as he fought to gather his thoughts. "I'm Nazreen. I'm literally freaking Nazreen." Not cool. Not cool at all. "How is that fair? This is exactly like what happened to Nazreen. I'm the vulnerable Princess and you're the hardcore hunter inserting yourself into my business."

It was funny when it happened to Nazreen. Funny, because he'd sat back in his room at the castle hearing about it. He had no desire to experience it for himself.

"You can't do this to me. You just can't."

She didn't dignify that with a response.

"You're the hot, mysterious stranger and I'm the timid failure."

She rolled her eyes, scanning her surroundings.

"This is real," He noted, digging his fingers through his messy hair. "You're seriously not a stripper. This is seriously what's happening. This is all real."

"Do you need a moment?"

"Do I need a moment? I need multiple moments." She'd dragged him to his deathbed. Sure, he was used to merciless heat in Veneficus—but not like this. The heat was fine, with air-con, and fancy drinks, and back massages. "And a glass of something strong. And some freaking suncream. And a wank. What is this?"