Mirelle invades my dreams the way she invades everything else in my life, completely, without permission, and with disturbing enthusiasm. I jolt awake, heart hammering against my ribs, sweat cooling on my skin as the last fragments of the dream dissolve into consciousness. For a moment, I'm disoriented, the phantom sensations of Mirelle's body against mine still tingling across my skin. My eyes snap open to find myself exactly where I fell asleep, wrapped in Mirelle's naked embrace, her arms locked around me like living shackles. The curse holds me paralyzed, unable to even shift away from where her bare breasts press against my back. Her electric blue hair tickles my neck as she stirs behind me, her grip tightening as she nuzzles closer. "Good morning," she purrs, her voice thick with sleep. "You were making such interesting noises in your sleep." My face burns with embarrassment. "Can you let go of me?" She chuckles, the sound vibrating through her chest and into mine. "Not just yet." Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my arm, each touch reinforcing the curse's hold on me. The pre-dawn light filters weakly through our inn window, painting the room in shades of gray. It's obscenely early, the kind of hour when even roosters are still contemplating whether it's worth the effort to crow. "Why are we up so early?" I ask, trying to ignore how her skin feels against mine, warm and soft and absolutely unwelcome. "Healing practice," she replies, finally releasing me from her grip. The curse lifts, and I immediately scramble away, putting blessed distance between us. "We need to figure out how your power works without you nearly killing yourself." I rub my face, trying to banish both sleepiness and the lingering images from my dream. "Couldn't we have started this at a reasonable hour? Like when the sun is actually up?" Mirelle sits up, making no attempt to cover herself as the blanket pools around her waist. Her blue hair stands out vividly against her pale skin, the only real color in the dim room. "Healing magic drains your mana," she explains, stretching her arms overhead with casual immodesty. "You'll need time to recover between attempts, which means we need all day." I look away, but not before catching a glimpse of her entire naked form as she stands up from the bed. My cheeks burn hot when I notice the unmistakable wetness between her thighs, glistening in the dim light. My body betrays me with an immediate physical response. "Well, well," Mirelle says, her voice dropping to that dangerous purr. "Looks like someone's ready for morning exercises of a different kind." She steps closer, electric blue hair crackling with anticipation. "Want me to help you with that?" I close my eyes, Kayla's face flashing in my mind, her smile, her laugh, the way she'd hold me during my worst days of treatment. The memory strengthens my resolve. "No," I say firmly, meeting Mirelle's gaze. "Please stop asking." Something flickers across her face, disappointment, frustration, maybe even hurt, before it's replaced by that predatory smile I've come to dread. Without warning, she reaches for the small knife on the bedside table. "What are you…" I start to say, scrambling to my feet. Before I can finish, Mirelle drags the blade across her palm with alarming force. Blood wells immediately, bright crimson against her pale skin. She lets out a guttural grunt of pain, gripping her wrist tightly as blood streams between her fingers. "Try to heal me," she commands through gritted teeth. "Without touching me." "Are you insane?" I stare at the blood dripping onto the floorboards. "You can't just…" "Focus, Sam!" Her eyes are fierce, almost manic. "Concentrate on the wound. Picture it closing. Draw the energy from within you and direct it outward." My heart pounds against my ribs as I stare at her bleeding hand. "This is your idea of practice? Mutilating yourself?" "Look, Sam," Mirelle's voice tightens with urgency as blood continues to drip from her palm. "I only have so much blood to spare, so please just try!" I swallow hard, trying to quell the panic rising in my chest. Closing my eyes, I search within myself for that golden energy I felt before. There, a warm, pulsing light at my core, like a miniature sun nestled beneath my ribs. I grasp for it mentally, trying to coax it outward. My skin begins to glow with a soft golden radiance, an ethereal light that bathes the dingy room in warmth. I can feel the power flowing through me, but it stops at my fingertips, refusing to project beyond my body. "It's not working," I mutter, opening my eyes to see Mirelle's blood now pooling on the floor. The sight makes my stomach lurch. "Shit, you're bleeding too much." Without thinking, I lunge forward and grab her wounded hand. The curse activates instantly, freezing my muscles. "Damn it," I hiss through clenched teeth. "Command me to heal you." Mirelle looks at me with disappointment clouding her eyes. With a firm shove, she pushes me away, breaking our contact and ending the curse's hold on me. "No," she says sharply. "You need to learn how to do this without touching. That's the whole point of this exercise." My heart races as I watch more blood seep from her wound. Panic floods my system, making my hands shake. "But you're bleeding everywhere!" "Focus, Sam. You can do this." I take a deep breath and channel the golden light again. It responds, flowing through me, but flickers erratically with my anxiety, dimming and brightening like a faulty lamp. "You're struggling because you don't believe in yourself," Mirelle says, her voice softening despite the pain she must be feeling. "But I know you can do this. I've seen what you're capable of." Her words hit something deep inside me. Not a command this time, but something more powerful, genuine belief. The golden light steadies slightly. "I believe in you, Sam," she repeats, her electric blue hair framing her face like a halo in the dim morning light. I close my eyes tightly, blocking out everything but the warm energy pulsing through me. With all my might, I push the healing light outward, imagining it extending beyond my fingertips. It feels like pushing jelly through a too-small opening, thick and resistant. "That's it," Mirelle whispers encouragingly. "I can see it." I open my eyes to see a thin tendril of golden light extending from my palm, barely an inch long but definitely there. My first projection of healing magic. Walking toward her, I'm already sweating with the effort of channeling so much mana. My legs feel wobbly, but I force myself forward until I'm standing directly in front of her. I don't touch her, but hold my hand over her wound, the golden light hovering just above her bleeding palm. The light connects with her injury, and I feel an immediate pull, like someone's attached an invisible straw to my energy and is sucking it out. The wound begins to close, flesh knitting together under the golden glow. Mirelle's eyes suddenly go wide, her pupils dilating as she stares at the golden light connecting us. There's something in her expression that makes me take a half-step back even as I maintain the healing connection. "That's it," she breathes, her voice husky and strained. "Don't stop." The intensity in her gaze confuses me. Her breathing has quickened, and a flush creeps up her neck that has nothing to do with blood loss or pain. "What's happening?" I ask, feeling the last of the wound sealing beneath my hovering palm. "Do you have some kind of healing fetish or something?" The golden light fades as the healing completes, and I stagger backward, suddenly dizzy. My knees buckle, and I barely catch myself on the edge of the bed. Every muscle in my body feels like I've run a marathon, and my head pounds with the worst headache I've ever experienced. "Holy shit," I gasp, fighting to stay conscious. "That took... a lot more out of me than I expected." Mirelle examines her newly healed palm, flexing her fingers with a look of wonder. "Being healed has... certain effects on women." "Effects?" I echo weakly. She runs her tongue across her lower lip, her electric blue hair practically standing on end with static. "It makes us very... responsive. Aroused." I stare at her in disbelief. "That's ridiculous. I healed you nearly back to life after I almost burned you to death, and you didn't mention anything about this then." Mirelle laughs softly, the sound low and intimate in the dim morning light. "You were pouring your entire life force into me, Sam. You almost died saving me." She shrugs, her naked shoulders rising and falling gracefully. "Survival trumped horniness in that moment." I groan, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. "Of course it did. Because this world couldn't possibly get any more ridiculous." "How do you feel?" she asks, suddenly concerned as she notices my pallor. She reaches toward me but stops herself before making contact, seemingly remembering the curse. "Like I've been hit by a truck," I admit, blinking away spots dancing in my vision. Mirelle gestures toward the bed with a concerned expression. "Sit down before you fall down." I comply, grateful for the chance to rest my trembling legs. She sits beside me, close enough that I can feel her body heat but not quite touching. The mattress dips slightly under our combined weight. "What's a truck?" she asks, her head tilted with genuine curiosity. I wave my hand dismissively, too drained to explain the concept of automobiles to someone from a world with dragons. "Just something heavy. I'm just... really exhausted." "I imagine channeling healing energy outward like that multiplied the mana drain," she says thoughtfully, studying my pale face. "When you touched me before, the flow was direct.” I nod weakly, still struggling to keep my eyes open. The room tilts and sways around me like I'm on a boat in choppy waters. "You'll improve with practice," Mirelle assures me, her voice softening. "We have all day to work on it." When I glance at her, I notice she's sitting unusually rigid, her hands gripping the edge of the mattress so tightly her knuckles have gone white. Her electric blue hair crackles with barely contained energy, and her pupils are still dilated, giving her a slightly feral appearance. She's breathing through her nose in measured counts, like someone trying desperately to maintain control. "You know," she says after a moment, her voice dropping to that dangerous purr that makes my skin prickle, "there are ways to restore mana quickly." I raise an eyebrow, instantly suspicious of her tone. "Oh?" "Sex," she states bluntly, her blue eyes locking onto mine with predatory intensity. "It stimulates mana regeneration. It's basic magical theory." I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head despite the wave of dizziness it causes. "Of course it does." "I'm serious," she insists, inching closer without actually touching me. "It's why battle mages often have partners waiting after major conflicts. The physical connection creates a feedback loop of energy." "That's convenient for you, isn't it?" I mutter, scooting away until my back hits the headboard. "Let me guess, it works even better with cursed men?" Mirelle's expression shifts, her eyes darkening as she stares at me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. "I don't know about that," she says, her voice strained. "But what I do know is that I'm struggling to hold myself back right now." Her electric blue hair is practically standing on end, crackling with static electricity. Small blue sparks dance between the strands as she grips the edge of the mattress even tighter. "Is this as bad as what happens during the full moon?" I ask, worried. She shakes her head, a shiver running visibly through her body. "No, not quite that intense. But..." Her gaze drifts to my lips, then quickly away. "If we keep practicing healing all day, I can't promise I'll maintain this level of restraint." I swallow hard, the implications sinking in. Great. So now my healing abilities are basically an aphrodisiac. I watch as Mirelle's internal struggle plays out across her face. Her electric blue hair crackles with energy, small sparks dancing between strands as she fights against whatever primal urge my healing has awakened in her. There's something darkly fascinating about seeing someone so powerful battling her own desires. "You need to get dressed," I suggest weakly, trying to sound firmer than I feel. "It might help if you're not... you know... naked." She laughs, a sound caught between amusement and desperation. "I don't think clothes will make much difference at this point." Without warning, she reaches out and places her hand on my arm. The curse activates instantly, locking my muscles in place as that familiar purple glow fills my vision. "No lies," she says, her voice tight with restraint. "Do you want to have sex with me?" The question hits me like a physical blow. The curse compels truth. "No," I say firmly, the single syllable somehow containing all my determination to remain faithful to Kayla. Mirelle's eyes narrow as she glances down at my body, where my physical reaction to her nakedness is painfully obvious. "But you're hard as a rock." She tilts her head, genuine confusion crossing her features. "I don't understand." There's a pause as she searches my face, her electric blue hair settling slightly as her curiosity temporarily overrides her arousal. "I make you horny," she states, not really a question but demanding confirmation. "Yes," I answer, unable to deny the obvious physical evidence. "Then why don't you want to fuck me?" The frustration in her voice is palpable, tinged with something that might almost be hurt. I take a deep breath, grateful the curse at least allows me to choose my own words when telling the truth. "Because I'm committed to my wife," I explain. "Physical reactions don't change that." Mirelle sighs, the sound carrying equal parts resignation and determination. She shifts suddenly, swinging one leg over to straddle me. Her naked body hovers above mine, her heat radiating through the thin fabric of my borrowed sleep clothes. "Are you going to be upset if I fuck you?" she asks, her eyes locked on mine. The curse pulls the truth from me once more. "Yes." Mirelle's face falls slightly, but only for a moment before that predatory smile returns. "But you'll still physically enjoy it, won't you?" "Yes," I admit, hating how the curse strips away my ability to lie. She nods, as if that's all the permission she needs. In one swift motion, she hooks her fingers into the waistband of my sleep pants and yanks them down. "Look at you," she breathes, her electric blue hair crackling with static. "So ready for me despite all your protests." I feel her warmth hovering just above me, her thighs trembling slightly with restraint. "Will you be less upset if I just..." She lowers herself slightly, pressing her wetness against me without taking me inside. The sensation makes my breath catch. "If we just do this instead?" "I'm telling Kayla everything regardless," I manage to say through gritted teeth, my voice strained as she begins to rock against me. The slick friction sends jolts of pleasure up my spine. Mirelle sighs, but doesn't stop her movements. "Then just enjoy the ride," she whispers, leaning down until her lips brush my ear. "There's nothing you can do to stop it anyway." Her hips work against mine with surprising gentleness. This isn't the frenzied, almost violent passion of the full moon night, this is calculated, deliberate, her movements designed to maximize pleasure. She rocks against me with maddening precision, her breathing growing heavier with each slide of her body against mine. "Relax," she commands softly. "And be as loud as you want." My muscles instantly loosen, the tension draining from my body as the curse accepts the order. A moan escapes me before I can stop it, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet room. "That's it," she encourages, her movements growing more insistent. "Let me hear you." Another moan tears from my throat, this one deeper, more guttural. My hands remain frozen at my sides, the curse preventing me from either pushing her away or pulling her closer. I'm completely at her mercy, a passenger in my own body as she uses me for her pleasure. "You feel so good," she gasps, her electric blue hair swirling around her face like a storm cloud. "So perfect." Her rhythm grows more insistent, and I can feel her wetness increasing as she slides against me. Each movement becomes slicker, more deliberate. Without warning, she shifts her hips, and I feel the tip of my cock catch at her entrance. "Oh," she gasps, her blue eyes widening with sudden intensity. She holds perfectly still, just the very tip of me inside her. The sensation is maddening, her warmth enveloping just enough to make me crave more despite my mental protests. Her electric blue hair crackles with renewed energy as she stares down at me, her pupils dilated with lust. "Do you want kids, Sam?" she asks suddenly, her voice husky. The curse compels truth from my lips. "Yes." A smile spreads across her face, triumphant and hungry. "I bet your seed would be wonderful," she whispers, rocking ever so slightly, keeping just the tip inside her. "Strong. Powerful." She leans closer, her breasts brushing against my chest. "Do you want to get me pregnant?" For the first time since she activated the curse, I find myself genuinely struggling against it. The question hits something primal in me. My mind races, conflicted between my loyalty to Kayla and some dark, instinctual desire I hate having. "I... I don't know," I finally manage. Mirelle's eyes narrow, studying my face with newfound curiosity. "You're conflicted," she observes, not a question but a statement. She leans down, her lips touching my neck in a trail of feather-light kisses that make my skin tingle. "Yes," I breathe, unable to deny it. "Why?" she murmurs against my skin, her teeth grazing my pulse point. The truth spills out of me, raw and unfiltered. "I don't want to betray Kayla, but..." I swallow hard, shame burning through me even as arousal builds. "I think you'd be even sexier if your belly was plump with my baby. I have a breeding fetish." Mirelle pulls back slightly, her blue eyes wide with surprise. "A breeding fetish?" she repeats, her voice caught between amusement and genuine interest. "Yes," I admit, my face burning with embarrassment. "The idea of... you know... actually breeding someone, seeing them swell with my child... It's a pretty normal fetish." "Then get me pregnant," Mirelle commands, her voice dropping to a husky whisper that sends a shiver down my spine. Something snaps inside me. The last thread of resistance breaks as primal instinct takes over. With a strangled groan, I thrust upward, burying myself completely inside her in one fluid motion. The sensation is overwhelming, hot, wet, perfect. "Oh god," I whimper as my body betrays me completely. I feel myself pulsing, throbbing, releasing deep inside her. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me as I empty everything I have into her waiting body. Mirelle throws her head back, electric blue hair crackling wildly with static. "Yes!" she cries out, her inner muscles clenching around me. "That's it, Sam! Give me everything!" Her body shudders above mine, her own climax triggered by my release. Her nails dig into my chest as she rides out her pleasure, grinding down to take me even deeper. I can't stop. The curse makes sure of that. Each pulse sends another wave of shameful ecstasy through me. My mind screams Kayla's name even as my body surrenders completely to Mirelle. When it's finally over, I lie there paralyzed, my mind a battlefield of shame and rage while my body still tingles with unwanted pleasure. Mirelle remains on top of me, her breathing gradually slowing as she takes in what just happened. After a moment, she sighs, her electric blue hair settling as the static dissipates. "How do you feel?" she asks, her voice surprisingly gentle. I glare up at her, fury burning through my exhaustion. "Sticky. Like I was raped by you... again." The words come out sharp and bitter, each syllable dripping with resentment. She winces slightly but doesn't deny it. Her eyes shift, studying my face with an odd clinical detachment. "No, I meant your exhaustion. How's your energy level?" The question catches me off guard. I take a deep breath, mentally cataloging the sensations in my body. The bone-deep fatigue from the healing is gone, replaced by a humming vitality that feels strangely familiar. It's the same energized feeling I had after our first encounter at the castle. "I... need to stand up," I mutter. She releases my wrist, breaking the curse's hold. I immediately scramble away from her, grabbing my pants from where they're tangled around my ankles. I pull them up with shaking hands, desperate to cover myself. As I stand, I'm surprised by how steady my legs feel. The dizziness has vanished completely. My headache is gone. Even the soreness in my muscles has disappeared. "Oh," I say, realization dawning. "I think I'm good to go again. With the healing." Mirelle reaches for the knife on the bedside table, her movements deliberate and unhurried. She tests the edge with her thumb, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Alright. Let's do it again then."