Bloom: A Dark Romance (The Order, 1)

by Nikki Rae

  “You like to read?” he asked, though it wasn’t quite a question.

  I pretended to sip from my own glass, not wanting to lose control of myself. I had no idea how the wine would affect me, and I didn’t want to find out right now. I had to pace myself, which was something my new Owner had neglected to do.

  “I do,” I said.

  “What’s your favorite book?” He asked it like we were on a first date at a coffee shop, trying to find something in common.

  “I don’t really have one, sir,” I said, playing with the foot of my glass with a finger. “There aren’t many books at the Compound. I’ve had to reread the same few over and over until today.”

  I knew what it sounded like. I didn’t want him to fake feeling bad for me or my situation, but I also didn’t want him to think I was feeling sorry for myself, so I added, “I’m excited to read what else you have.” I smiled. “If I’m allowed, of course.” Couldn’t let him think I didn’t know my place.

  “I’m sure you’ll find something,” he responded.

  “Anything you’d recommend?” I asked. “Do you have a favorite, sir?”

  Master Lyon slid my plate over so it was in front of him and began finishing what I couldn’t. “You wouldn’t enjoy what I like to read.”

  I knew what he was doing: trying to bait me into challenging him again so I could prove him right. I could let him think I was falling for it.

  “Oh?” I asked. “Why’s that?”

  He ate most of what was on the plate before he answered. “I read mostly about botany and biology, ma petite. Of course, you can try if you’d like.” He chuckled to himself. “Who knows? Perhaps your favorite book will be Darwin’s Origin of Species.”

  I had heard of it somewhere, but I couldn’t remember where. “Is that your favorite, sir?”

  He shrugged. “If I could have a favorite,” he said, “I suppose it wouldn’t be a bad one.”

  I nodded like I understood whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

  Master Lyon looked down at his plate like he suddenly realized it was empty. “It appears dinner is over.”

  “So soon?” I was quick to say.

  He practically snorted. “You can’t be disappointed to be going back to your room,” he said. “You’ve been a good sport, talking to me and being friendly, but we don’t need to prolong it.” The words sounded like they should have been harsh, but his tone was light and he softened it even more with a tipsy smile.

  He had known I wasn’t being genuine from the beginning. I had to force myself not to panic and think quickly.

  “But…” I said, knowing that talking back would only sour things, but I had to try. The longer I paused to think, the more likely it was that our evening was over. Unfortunately, I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “But…?” he repeated, slowly tilting his palm in the air to indicate he wanted me to continue.

  I glanced at the table before looking back at him. I was unsure how to approach this, what to say.

  “You can speak freely,” he said. “Remember, ma petite?”

  Right. He wanted me to talk. “I…would rather not go back to my room just yet.”

  He cocked his head to the side like he had heard me wrong. “Why?”

  Folding my hands on top of the table, I pretended to be thinking. I already knew which angle I would use. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had real conversations with anyone.” As I said it, I realized how true it was. No one spoke directly to me unless it was to scold or pity me. Even though this wasn’t completely real, it was hard to deny that I enjoyed speaking with someone who wanted to discuss things instead of hurting me or making me feel inferior. Before he could answer, I added one more thing. The one piece of information I had on a weak point in this false knight’s armor.

  “I guess I’ve never really thought about how much I missed it before.”

  I stared at the table for half a second so he would think I was shy or unsure. When my gaze next met his, I said, “I didn’t realize how…lonely it’s been.”

  He sat back in his chair, studying me and thinking of how to best respond. I could only hope that this new deception was a better attempt than the rest of dinner had turned out to be.

  Finally, he stood and pushed in his chair. “It’s too bright in here,” he said as if this was an excuse for the decision to leave the table. “Let’s sit in the lounge.”

  I forced myself to stand, not ready to go back into the room so soon after facing that awful man. But this was more important.Besides, that man was no longer there. I couldn’t let memories, no matter how recent, distract me.

  TEN

  Master Lyon was careful than usual as he led me towards the lounge; pushing in my chair when I stood, waiting for me to take the first few steps before the palm of his hand rested on my lower back. He held my hand as I sat on the white sofa, sinking into the cushion, and then let go as he did the same. He’d brought my glass of nearly untouched wine with him, setting it on the end table closest to him so I’d have to ask for it if I wanted more. The room was considerably dimmer than the dining room, but the fire was still burning and crackling, casting shadows onto the walls and our faces. I hadn’t realized just how chilly I’d been before now and I was grateful for the warmth.

  “The heat should be back on in a few days at most,” he said as if he had noticed my slight shiver as I adjusted from one temperature to another. “I wasn’t expecting to be back so soon.”

  “Back?” I questioned. “Where had you been, sir?”

  Taking a long drink from my wine—I guessed it was his now—he stared into the fire as he answered. “I was on business,” he said simply. “And then I hadn’t intended on moving you here so soon, but after I saw you I wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  My stomach ached at the words, but I did my best to ignore it. Why would he purchase me, a damaged girl with a history, so suddenly? Was this not his choice? Was this not all done completely on his terms? I was too afraid of his reaction to ask. It was probably too private, too personal. Instead, I stared at the fire too.

  “This is nice though,” I said. “There was a fireplace in the main hall at the Compound, but I was never allowed to go near it.”

  A short laugh left his lungs. “Too much risk,” he said, glancing at my thighs. Though they were completely covered, my hands unconsciously moved over top of them, the welts beneath the jeans flaring. “I don’t think you would do anything quite so stupid now.” He grinned; it was a joke, but there was an obvious undertone to it.

  “No, sir,” I agreed. I wanted to laugh too, just so he would think I hadn’t taken offense, but I didn’t think it would come out sincere and he most likely didn’t care either way.

  He did me the courtesy of ignoring my discomfort.

  I didn’t want our conversation to die just as I had convinced him to let me stay downstairs and talk to him a while longer. I tried glancing around the room, but there wasn’t much that I could see in the dark. The only thing the fire showed completely was the coffee table in front of us, which only vaguely reflected the flames.

  “We’ll also get you some clothing that fits,” he said, taking over so I didn’t have to. He noticed that the sleeve of my sweater had slipped down my shoulder again and fixed it without making further comment. I wasn’t quite prepared for his touch and I flinched. I hated that I couldn’t control myself long enough to sit still.

  He sighed, leaning back and taking another gulp of his drink.

  Then we were quiet for too long. The only sound between us was the fire as logs popped and him swallowing what he already had in his mouth. When neither of us said anything, he silently stood and walked towards the fireplace. The metallic sound as he shifted the grate made way for the logs cracking and hissing as he poked at the embers with the rod that had been sitting in a copper bucket nearby. I stared as the flames sparked with newfound life, bright yellow and orange and lighting a new log as he added it to the fire.<
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  Instead of taking his seat on the sofa next to me again, he sat crouched by the fireplace, staring into the flames without the protection of the grate.

  I had brought things to a screeching halt, and it all could have been avoided had I been paying attention to how my body was reacting. I was usually so good at keeping track, at not letting on to what was going on in my head—consciously or unconsciously. I opened my mouth to say something even if it was just an inaudible sound to get us back to talking. I didn’t know what I could possibly say other than apologize, but then what would I be apologizing for?

  “No one has ever touched you in that way,” he said so softly that his voice blended in with the hissing of the flames.

  I swallowed around a lump in my throat. I knew what he was referring to of course, but I wasn’t ready to discuss this—least of all with him. Sometimes the best option was to play dumb.

  “Touched…on the shoulder, sir?” I tried sounding as sincere as I could, but even I could hear how childish and ridiculous it was.

  Master Lyon only sighed as he stood and replaced the metal grate before sitting back down on the sofa. This time, he slung one of his arms over the back so he was half turned towards me. I only moved my head in his direction; anything more would indicate I was more comfortable than I actually felt.

  “No,” he answered, a not so humorous smile tugging at the corner of his lip. “Not the shoulder, Doe.” When I didn’t respond, he continued. “I expected as much, but I’m sure you’ve heard the stories.”

  Stories. Was that what they were? Suitors paying Guards to leave them alone with the girls so they could take advantage of them before they had ever paid a cent. It seemed to me that the daily possibility of assault and rape were more than just stories.

  “And what about you?” he asked and my heart inflated with the thought of changing the subject. “Have you ever touched yourself in such a way?” My heart plummeted and my stomach hurt. I didn’t want to talk about this either, but it wasn’t like I couldn’t answer him now. He’d asked me a direct question.

  “No, sir,” I said in the firmest and most even voice I could manage.

  He tilted his head to the side, unconvinced yet playful. “Not even once?” he asked in a teasing tone. “You’ve never been curious?”

  I did not like where this was heading. “No, sir.” My voice was even stronger than before. “Never.”

  His eyebrows rose slightly. “Why not?”

  “I’ve never seen the point, sir. That’s the only way I can explain it.”

  I made sure I added the last part so he would maybe stop this line of questioning, but no such luck.

  “I suppose…” he said slowly, deliberately, thinking of what to say next. “You’ve never been touched in any sort of…positive way.”

  I blinked a few times and gave him a tight smile that felt like it would tear my face in half. “I’ve never thought of it that way,” I said just as slowly, “but I suppose you’re right, sir.”

  Master Lyon nodded to himself, satisfied with what he thought and how it matched with my answer. Since we had sat down, he had become bolder, less reserved. I figured it was because of the bottle of strong wine he had drunk, but it could have just as easily been the darkness. People were always braver in the safety of shadows.

  “Is that why you bit me earlier?” he asked.

  I stared at him, unable to answer. Was it? Was I always so prepared for someone to hurt me that when I was shown the smallest kindness—or at the very least, the absence of harshness—my automatic reaction was to hurt them before they hurt me?

  He smirked. “I think I am beginning to understand you, ma petite.”

  I stared down into my lap, my folded hands as the knuckles turned whiter and whiter. “I don’t think I understand what you mean, sir.” I only hoped he wouldn’t notice my lack of eye contact.

  Master Lyon uttered a small exhale of a laugh. His knee grazed mine. “You’re used to cruelty,” he pointed out what I already knew—what was obvious to us both. “As you have already experienced,” he went on, “I can also be just as cruel.” His fingers lightly traced part of my jeans, exactly where one of the welts was located. As fast as he had reached out, his hand was back at his side and I could breathe again.

  “I know your situation is not ideal,” he surprised me by saying and my eyes widened at the admission.

  “You do?” I asked before I could stop it from leaving my mouth.

  He smiled wider and I didn’t know what it meant. “I think,” he said, “that in time, you’ll see that I am not your enemy.”

  My skepticism must have shown on my face.

  “I’m trying to make things easier,” he added. “You don’t need to fear me as you feared them.” He leaned back towards the end table to retrieve the wine. “That is all I’m trying to say,” he slurred as he finished what was left in the glass.

  I sat motionless and silent for what seemed like a long time. “I’m sorry I bit you earlier, sir. Truly. I hadn’t realized the way I was acting.”

  He nodded once; this time my apology was acceptable. “Sometimes you cannot predict how your body will react.” Then he sat up straighter, bringing his hands together. “So this is what I propose,” he said as he folded them in his lap, albeit more loosely than I was holding mine. “Next time, I’ll let you begin.”

  My heart thudded in my ears. This was too good to be true. I suspected he knew that, but he said it anyway. The only reason I could think of as to why was that he wanted me to trust him. He wanted me to lower my guard and he was going to do it by giving me this false sense of control.

  I could do the same. I just had to be more careful than he was being—getting drunk in front of a ‘dangerous’ girl and all but laying out his plan in front of her.

  “Does that sound reasonable to you?” he asked after I hadn’t responded. He even stuck out his hand expecting a shake.

  “Anytime I want?” I asked in the shyest voice I could conjure.

  Master Lyon laughed silently to himself. “Yes,” he said. “Whether it’s now or a week from now.”

  I decided not to acknowledge the short amount of time he’d chosen. It didn’t matter anyway. Not for the purpose of my own game.

  Slowly, I stuck out my hand and grasped his. My new Owner’s fingers curled around my hand in a firm yet gentle squeeze as we both shook up and down.

  “It’s a deal,” I said a moment before we let go of each other.

  “Yes,” he agreed, his grin showing once more.

  Now it was my turn to put my own plan into play. As much as I didn’t want to, I knew it was important to lay the groundwork of this relationship early, and I might not get an opportunity such as this again for a long time. Time was something I no longer wished to waste.

  “Is…now okay, sir?” I asked timidly, folding my hands in my lap again, squeezing them together. The tone was intentional, but my nerves were real.

  Now he looked genuinely surprised. “Now?” he asked. “Is that really what you want?” His skepticism dripped from every word.

  I had to clear my throat before I could answer.

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “Only…” I glanced away, hoping it didn’t look too dramatic.

  Master Lyon lifted my chin with one finger so I was looking at him again. “Only what, Doe?” His voice and the gesture were shockingly gentle.

  I let out a breath and closed my eyes for a moment. “I’m just…unsure, I think,” I said. “I…” I had to steel myself for what was about to leave my mouth. “I want to do a good job and I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  He let go of my chin. “You want my help.”

  I bit my lip and I wasn’t sure if I was acting anymore. “Yes, sir,” I said. “Please.” Then I changed my tone to playful, purposefully trying to entice him. He liked it when I flirted. “I promise to keep my teeth to myself.” I even managed a good-natured grin.

  He mirrored it back at me. “Yes, I will teach you how to do a
good job.” He said the last part of the sentence as if the way I’d worded it was funny to him.

  “O-okay.” Part of me couldn’t believe it was this easy. “Thank you.”

  There was a long moment where neither of us moved. He remained staring at me, the slight smile still on his face. I wasn’t sure what he saw as he watched me, waited for me to do or say something.

  After what felt like an eternity, he laughed softly and moved closer. His thigh was directly against mine, my welts screaming in protest. I forced myself not to flinch like last time. I would not back away or cower.

  He moved my hair off my shoulder, leaving me cold despite the warmth of his touch and the fireplace.

  “You think too much,” he said, hand lingering on my back. “I can tell behind those eyes of yours that you are plotting, planning.” He smiled wider, catching me and proud of himself. “I understand,” he added. “This is the way you’ve had to be to survive. I admire adaptability.”

  Anger flared in my stomach, but I wouldn’t let it travel to my eyes.

  So he had seen right through me this entire time as well. He had known even in his state what I had been up to. I was frustrated, mostly with myself. Was this why he’d picked me then? I was smarter, less willing to go along with this entire thing than some other younger, more naïve girl? And if so, why wouldn’t he let me get away with anything?

  “I try to adapt whenever possible, sir,” I bit out, letting confidence ooze into my voice even though I didn’t really feel it in my body.

  His fingers played on my back, causing goose bumps to rise on my exposed skin. I hated my body for reacting, even if it was completely involuntary. Someone I barely knew. Someone who had paid money for me. Who owned me. That was who I was responding to, and I hated myself even more for it.

  “Weak people accept their fate,” he finally said. “Strong people, if they cannot change their circumstances, change their approach so they are not completely miserable. They look at things differently.”