by Kitty Thomas
Several feet up—where the flow of water started—was a nook one might curl up in to read a book. She couldn’t see any detail in the space itself. She only knew that a person could fit in there and sit and look out over the rest of the room.
“That’s where my pet sleeps,” Ari said. Saskia knew he didn’t mean a dog or a cat. He meant the girl she’d met the first time in the club who’d been wearing the school girl uniform. On closer inspection, Saskia could see light glimmer off the link of a metal chain. She imagined there was a cuff on the end that might be locked around the girl’s ankle at night.
“Where is she?” Saskia asked.
“She’s spending the night in one of the guest rooms.”
Not a cage isolated in a gallery?
The fireplace against the wall crackled and spit some more, and Ari put another log on the fire.
There was a large white bed opposite from the hot tub with an endless pile of pillows on top of it. Metal chains hung from the ceiling, ending in white leather cuffs at various points over the bed. The bed itself was a four poster, the posts made of a sturdy gleaming steel.
There seemed to be endless ways to tie someone to Ari’s bed.
The floor was a blond hardwood, but it was nearly covered in white fur rugs so only a few inches of floor peeked from under them at a time. Small white pillows were clustered in a haphazard pile around the fireplace.
“Undress, please,” Ari said. “Boots, too.” His words were directed to Saskia, but Quill removed his shoes as well to avoid tracking anything onto all of Ari’s fine rugs. Ari also removed his shoes, but Saskia was the only one among them who was to be nude.
She wondered if Ari’s hands had been on her at the club when she’d been locked inside the birdcage, or if he’d stayed back and watched. She didn’t ask because she doubted either of them would tell her.
Quill looked back and forth between Saskia and Ari as if searching for some clue in a great mystery. He seemed to find whatever it was he was looking for.
“Saskia?”
“Yes, Master?”
“I’m going down the hall to play with Ari’s pet. You will stay here and do whatever he asks of you.” He didn’t frame it as a question, but something in the cadence of the sentences made it play that way despite his best effort.
“You aren’t staying to watch?” She felt her skin heat when she caught the smirk on Ari’s face at that.
“Not this time,” Quill said. “You’re in good hands.” His gaze shifted to The Viking. “I’m sure we won’t have a misunderstanding like last time?”
Ari shook his head. “No, Kane. We’re good. Besides, where would I take her? We’re already at my house.”
“Exactly.”
Quill shut the door softly behind him. He left his shoes behind in Ari’s room.
The Viking moved closer and began to unbutton his shirt. He tossed it onto a chair near the door. He left the pants on for now, but hooked his thumbs into the front pockets as if it were the only way he could control some wild thing inside him that wanted to devour Saskia whole.
He was so tall. Quill was tall. The two men were close to the same height, in fact, but Ari’s long blond hair really did make him look like a warrior off an ancient battlefield. As if to put a finer point on it, a faded angry scar slashed across his chest.
Saskia reached out—unable to help herself—and traced the scar. She drew back immediately as if burnt, remembering Quill’s sharp rebuke when she’d touched him without permission.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“It’s quite all right,” Ari said. His smile was easy. There weren’t a million cunning calculations going on behind those eyes. Not like with Quill. It seemed that every man she was with was somehow an easier or better option than Quill, yet in spite of all sound reason, Quill was the one she wanted to be close to, and she felt that every man’s bed he sent her to warm was just another way to keep her out of his heart so she could be kept at an emotional distance.
Saskia’s attention went back to the scar on Ari’s chest. “How did it happen?”
He chuckled. “I got that little souvenir when I didn’t listen to a safe word during edge play. As soon as I untied her, well... this is what happened. She had a few issues and was off her meds, but I still deserved it. And I knew she was off her meds, so shame on me for that, too. I took advantage from start to finish.”
“Oh. It wasn’t your pet?” It could very well be his pet, but the way he spoke made it seem more casual.
“No, just someone I was playing with for a night. Don’t worry. I learned my lesson. And I have a harsh reminder every time I look at it. It won’t happen again. It’s one of the reasons I was so concerned that you were truly there at the club of your own free will. I didn’t mean to try to take you away from somewhere you wanted to be or from someone you wanted to be with. I never should have doubted Kane.”
Oh, no, those instincts were good. But aloud she only said, “It’s okay.”
Ari moved closer. One hand cupped the back of her neck drawing her forward. He kissed her forehead. “You say Red, if you need it. Just like at the club.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Are you hungry?”
She looked uncertain.
He laughed. “Food. I’m asking about food, doll.”
“A little,” Saskia admitted. Dinner felt far in the distant past.
“I’ll be right back.”
Several minutes later, Ari returned with a large glass tray. He laid it on one of the rugs in front of the fireplace.
“Come, we’re going to play a game.”
There was a pitcher of water and two water glasses. In the center of the tray was an assortment of catered finger foods. There were mini-quiches, chicken salad tarts with grapes, something that looked like cream cheese mixed with something on crackers, butter mints, and fancy chocolates. Each portion on the glass was maybe a full bite or two at most.
“I had a party the other night. These are the leftovers. Unfortunately, some of the better stuff ran out first. Like the shrimp, and my pet polished off the last of the salmon puffs this afternoon.”
Saskia glanced toward the door, suddenly wondering what Quill was doing with Ari’s pet. A twinge of jealousy shot through her.
Ari’s hand pressed against her cheek, directing her attention back to him. “You must pay attention, or I’ll have to punish you. I’ll be gentle tonight if you’ll let me.”
Ari’s arctic blue eyes seemed to freeze as if mere verbal warning weren’t enough.
“Y-yes, sir.”
He nodded, the glaciers melting back into a warmer shade. “All right. How hungry are you?”
Now that she thought of it, and now that the wonderful smells were drifting toward her nose... pretty hungry. The Viking only had to see the look in her eyes for his answer.
He smiled. “Good. This game is better if you’re very hungry.”
Saskia swallowed around a lump forming in her throat. Quill wouldn’t have left her alone with him if he wasn’t sure, would he? It was just occurring to her that there had been a comfort in knowing Quill was on the other side of a screen watching, that he’d intervene if anything happened that he didn’t like. Or when Marcus had been just outside the door waiting to pounce if anyone crossed any lines. They’d both guarded her in their own ways.
But it was just her and Ari tonight.
“Don’t look so terrified. I won’t be too horrible with you. The game is simple. I issue an order. You do exactly as I say, and then I let you have a bit of food.”
Saskia nodded, looking from the tray to Ari.
He poured water in each of the glasses and took a sip from his, then he leaned back against the pillows. “Whenever I issue a command, you will say, ’It would be my honor, sir’, and then do whatever it is I’ve ordered. Sound simple enough?”
“Yes, sir.”
“First, I want you to crawl around the room so I can get a good look at you from every angle.”<
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Saskia dropped to her knees. “It would be my honor, sir.” She crawled slowly around the circumference of the room, avoiding the furniture and the hard marble around the hot tub.
When she returned to Ari, he motioned her closer and fed her one of the chicken salad tarts—or half of one, anyway. It was all she could get in one bite.
He pulled the rest of the tart away. “Don’t be greedy. If you please me, you won’t have to worry about starving in my care.”
Ari watched her kneeling on the rug waiting for his next command for several moments, then he said, “Go stand under the waterfall and wash yourself for me. I like my toys freshly cleaned before I use them.”
“It would be my honor, sir.” Saskia rose and climbed the marble steps, then descended into the hot bubbling water. A bar of peppermint soap rested on a ledge just to the right of the waterfall. The entire suite made her think of winter, from Ari’s long blond hair, to the fireplace, to all the white fur rugs, and now the soap that made the air feel colder when she breathed in its scent.
She bathed under the flowing water, its warmth hiding how her nerves were beginning to get the better of her. Saskia found herself captivated in Ari’s warm gaze. She didn’t know how eyes so pale blue could sometimes be so warm. Why couldn’t Quill look at her with just a fraction of that?
How pathetic. Her master was pimping her out to all these other men and rather than be horrified by it, instead of hating him, all she could do was wonder why he couldn’t touch her with Phillip’s care or caress her with the warmth of Ari’s gaze. Or why he couldn’t watch over her and stay close like Marcus. He seemed to have Nolan’s single-minded fixation with little else attached to it. And yet Nolan had made her the most uncomfortable—the one who’d seemed most like Quill. Shouldn’t that tell her something?
“Saskia?” Ari’s voice dropped deeper. A reprimand.
She looked up, startled. “Yes, sir?”
“Where did you go just now?”
“N-nowhere.”
He didn’t believe her. “Dry off and come back to me. I don’t want any water dripping on my furs.”
“Yes, sir.” Saskia took a towel off the rack next to the hot tub and carefully dried off. She left the towel wrapped around herself, even knowing that Ari probably preferred her to leave it behind. But he made no comment.
Instead, he pushed the tray toward her. “Eat whatever you want.”
Something had shifted in him, and the game was over before it had started. While she ate, Ari stripped off his pants and got into the water. He stood under the waterfall and used the peppermint soap. By the time she’d finished the food on the tray, Ari was next to her, a matching towel wrapped around his waist.
He offered her a helping hand up from the ground and led her over to the bed. He lay down and motioned for her to join him. They both wore their towels.
“What was that back there with you in the water? Seriously, where did you go? What’s wrong?”
Saskia shook her head. She couldn’t tell him. She was sure he’d only go behind her back and tell Quill, and then the two men would have a good laugh about it. No, Ari wasn’t like that. And when she really thought about it, Quill wasn’t either. Her master was hard and demanding and intense, but he didn’t make jokes at the expense of others. At least he never had with her, and she’d never seen any indication that such a thing was part of his character makeup.
Tears began to fall down her cheeks before she could stop or hide them. Ari pulled her against him and petted her hair. “You can talk to me. Whatever you say is just between us.”
Did he still think she was some unwilling captive? Was she? Was The Viking still trying to save her? There was nothing that could save her from her own self-destructive need to truly be Quill’s.
“What’s wrong with me? Why doesn’t he love me? He’s so distant. It’s like he doesn’t even want me around.”
“Kane?”
That ridiculous name. If Ari didn’t know any of Quill’s multiple aliases, how could he understand any of this? But then, maybe Kane was just who Ari thought of him as, like Saskia thought of him as Quill. There was nothing to indicate how close Ari truly was to her master or how much he knew or didn’t know about him and all his myriad lives which lay parallel to one another, trying desperately not to cross-pollinate.
“Saskia, you are the second person he’s ever put a collar on. Trust me, it means something.”
But did it? If Ari only knew the truth of how she’d come to belong to Quill, it might not look the same. Whatever Quill had with the last girl he’d collared... surely it had been voluntary and mutual. Saskia was certain that the unnamed mystery woman had held some true place in his heart, that she wasn’t just some thing he possessed. She hadn’t been an impersonal acquisition... an asset. Not like Saskia.
Saskia couldn’t imagine him keeping that other woman locked away in the gallery away from him. If he had, how could he be surprised she’d left? If he was so empty inside that he couldn’t offer even the barest real connection... why did he care who stayed or went?
“Give him time,” Ari said. “Do you remember at the club when you screamed?”
She nodded.
“That look in his eyes when he confronted me about trying to take you out of there... I’ve only seen him that intense about one other person. Maybe he’s afraid you’ll walk out like she did.”
Saskia almost laughed out loud. As if Quill would ever allow that to happen. She’d lain inside her cage in the gallery at night when it was still and quiet, taking her master apart in her mind and putting him back together, making up all sorts of explanations for his behavior. She was sure he’d taken her and started their relationship with a felony just so she couldn’t walk out. He’d already set the tone and pace for them with that one criminal act. So what the hell could he be so afraid of now?
She’d swung almost immediately back to the idea that he didn’t care. He just wanted to punish her for tricking him out of all that money and wounding his ego.
“Can I ask you something?” Saskia said.
“Ask, doll.”
“What happened tonight at the club? I thought he was going to sell me to someone, maybe permanently.”
“It was an auction, you’re right. But just for the night. I was there to make sure it didn’t get out of hand because he would never sell you—even for a night—to someone he didn’t know well. I jumped in and outbid them to get you out of there without any bruised feelings.”
“But I thought this was your rain check from... from before.”
“It is. But the others in the club don’t know that.”
“You still haven’t really done anything with me,” she said, beginning to feel guilty that he kept getting screwed over, when she really did want to play with him.
Ari pulled her closer, his lips brushing softly against hers. “Just forget about all those buzzing worries for tonight.” He gently pulled her towel away followed by his own. And then he proceeded to make slow careful love to her, the kind of thing people who paid for sex didn’t offer. When you paid, you were there to take, but Ari just gave... all the things she’d wanted to come from Quill.
Afterward, he stroked her back until she fell asleep.
Saskia woke with her back pressed tight against a warm, solid chest. But Ari was in front of her, perhaps a foot away. At some point in the night, Quill had slipped into the bed. It wasn’t his bed, but it was a bed with him in it, his arms wrapped around her like she was something he didn’t want to let go of. She wondered if he’d pulled her to him immediately when he’d climbed into the giant bed, or if he’d instead unconsciously reached for her in his sleep.
Had Ari said something to him?
She remained very still the rest of the night, afraid that if she moved, the spell would break and Quill would release her and roll back over, shutting her out again.
Chapter Eighteen
Weeks passed. Or maybe it was months. It was so hard to tell with ho
w the world all blurred together. Fucking and sucking and painting and being painted and being passed around.
Each time she felt there was some turning point between her and her master, it turned out to be nothing more than the same smoke and mirrors. He always pulled away again as if he’d catch on fire if he allowed even the slightest intimate ember to burn between them.
She had stopped lying to herself, stopped pretending that her master must share her out of fear of intimacy. That would mean he cared. And it was just another fantasy to keep her warm at night. Perhaps he just shared her because he got off on sharing her, on proving how deep her submission to him had grown, how lost she was, how enslaved.
And it had never been about what she’d stolen. She’d abandoned that theory early on. He’d only made the smallest pretense with the ledger. She wasn’t even sure he was still keeping a record of what she’d “paid off”. Quill got off on prostituting her, on being paid ridiculous sums of money to allow all of his wealthy perverted friends to part her thighs over and over.
So few men had the patience he had... to turn a mind and body and soul so that they craved the chains locked around them, so that they squirmed and mewled and begged shamelessly for more. He was an artist far beyond mere painting.
When Saskia had first been inspired by his work enough to attend art school, she’d imagined that somehow while there she would discover some artistry hidden deep within her. She’d credit Joseph Quill with inspiring her, but secretly she would know that all along she’d had it, whatever that meant. His work would have just unlocked it. There would be parties and acclaim. And her work would be talked about in hushed, reverent tones.
But over time with him, she began to realize that maybe she didn’t have it after all. Maybe she’d only ever been kidding herself. He must have believed in her at one point. Why else would he have become so frustrated when she couldn’t deliver what he wanted on the canvas? If he didn’t think she could do it, he never would have invested so much of his own hopes and expectations on what she might become.
