Above the Winter Skies [English Version]

20

Before we left the ship, he had draped a coat over my shoulders. Fortunately, it looked completely innocuous and reached down to my knees, so I was showing more leg than I was used to in Hjartvik, but my time on the ship had desensitized me to such things. The coat at least concealed my fox tail and the fact that I was bound and nearly naked underneath. However, Cassiel still held the leash attached to my collar, leading me through the city in a way that was more than humiliating.

Despite this, I managed to enjoy the outing. I relished the cool evening breeze on my flushed face, admired the half-timbered buildings that looked so different from what I was used to in my former home. I was impressed by the cobblestones that covered the narrow alleys and the colorful flower boxes in front of the windows. I observed the people who were still out and about; they looked different from those I had known before, less harsh, less grim, but perhaps I was just imagining it. I tried to ignore their unabashed stares, curious and a little ashamed of my obvious humiliation.

What I liked most was the scent in the air, which did not carry the smell of cold and snow but of rain, wet grass, and old leaves. Hjartvik had somehow smelled of despair and loneliness. This place smelled of awakening and new beginnings, of hope.

I didn't know if it was the fresh air or the adrenaline coursing through my body because of Cassiel, but that evening I felt incredibly alert and alive.

The Seraph showed and explained everything he knew about the city to me, and I listened silently yet patiently. An hour later, darkness had already fallen, and we stopped at the door of a tavern. A wrought iron sign hung at the entrance, swaying slightly in the wind, with the words Taverna Nebula inscribed in thick gold letters. The murmur of voices and music reached my ears, suggesting a lively atmosphere inside. Cassiel abruptly opened my coat and slipped it off me. Cold rushed over my body, cutting like a knife, but I barely felt it. My heart raced wildly, and heat flushed my cheeks as I tried to push away thoughts of the impending humiliation. I glanced up and looked into the Seraph's face. He could sense my emotions, so he had to know the inner turmoil I was experiencing—that fear, insecurity, and boundless shame were driving me nearly insane, yet he showed no sign of it. A faint smile played on his lips, and his eyes sparkled. Then he grabbed my braid, pulled my head back, and kissed me. His tongue danced with mine, his body pressed against me, the rough fabric of his fine suit rubbing almost painfully against my bare skin. Then he caressed my breast with his free hand until my nipples strained towards him. Shocked, I gasped, but no sound escaped my throat; I was obedient and remained silent, as he had ordered me to do for the entire evening.

Cassiel ignored my reaction, only tightening his grip on my hair, and began to twist my nipples, first one, then the other. Heat rose in my lower abdomen without my wanting it, moisture gathered between my legs, and my knees grew weak. I let out a soft whimper.

Then he suddenly let go of me. "That's good," he whispered in my ear, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. "Just don't think, sweetie. Let the people enjoy the show."

In the next moment, he pushed open the door, and we were instantly engulfed by the noise of the tavern. Smoky, warm air billowed towards us, loud chatter filled my ears, and dozens of faces turned towards us, but Cassiel's words still echoed in my mind.

Panic threatened to overwhelm me.

What show?

He hadn't mentioned anything about a show. He had said that I should accompany him, but now, for the first time that evening, I realized that wasn't all he had planned—that he wasn't going to let me off easily this time either.

I followed Cassiel through the crowd—unwillingly, as he still held me on the leash wrapped several times around his wrist—but I couldn't manage to lift my gaze. Suddenly, the bar had fallen silent. It was too quiet, far too quiet, and my steps in high-heeled boots echoed too loudly on the floorboards. Blood rushed in my ears, and only slowly did I begin to hear soft murmurs around me. My cheeks burned with shame. I was painfully aware of how obscene I looked. With every step, I felt my short skirt ride up, revealing everything it was supposed to hide, felt the pressure of the fox tail inside me, my breasts bouncing, and the ropes cutting into my bound wrists, marking me so obviously as a whore. And I felt every single gaze on my skin, burning like fire.