Wilt

by Rae, Nikki

  He made me feel feverish and sick. The old Fawn would have thought so, throwing myself at my captor the way I was. But she was dead and buried. I had to kill her so I could grow into who I needed to be in order to survive. The old Fawn had been a weed choking me. Now I was free to breathe, blossom into the perfect flower for my Owner. I would be the softest petals to the man in front of me and the prettiest poison to the man he would surrender me to. By the time the Vulture got close enough for a taste of me, it would be too late. He’d be dead along with Fawn.

  Master Lyon’s lips were slick against mine. Until this moment, I hadn’t realized how much I’d craved them. It was confusing and overwhelming when I thought about why. What did the reasons matter? He made me safe; he made me feel cared for and even loved, if it was something people like us could experience. I would soak up as much of him as I could before I was denied these feelings no matter how they might hurt me later.

  His hands tangled in my hair and he pulled. It was slow, firm, and deliberate; it didn’t hurt. My legs naturally wrapped around his waist, nothing but his clothing between us as his mouth moved down my throat, nipping and making the fever within me rise.

  My hips moved on their own, eliciting a groan from deep within his chest as I felt him beneath me, lengthening and hardening with each movement. I didn’t know what I was trying to accomplish, and maybe I wasn’t trying to accomplish anything. For the first time, I was doing what my body wanted without my mind having ulterior motives. I had no plan, no goals. Just this moment; just this closeness to the one who Owned me. For now.

  More than anything, knowing I affected him—that I had made him want me in this way—gave me some sort of power. I wasn’t the only one confused, hurt, or scared. I wasn’t the only one giving in to what my body wanted. I could make him feel as good as he could make me feel. I wasn’t completely powerless.

  My fingers were around his belt buckle, tugging and attempting to free him of it. He let me get as far as the cotton of his black boxers before he stopped me, breathing heavily into my ear as he brought me close, pinning my arms at my sides in the process.

  “Je ne pense pas que tu saches ce que tu fais, Biche.” I don’t think you know what you’re doing, Doe. His breath was hot and wet in my ear, making me shiver and wish we would continue.

  “I want…” the words wouldn’t come. The question of what I wanted was ridiculous. What did it matter what I wanted? No one got what they desired in our world.

  He pulled on my hair again, close to the scalp as his other hand cradled my face. “I know what you want, ma petit,” he whispered, capturing my lower lip between his teeth before releasing it. “But we don’t get to make these decisions for ourselves.” When his eyes met mine, I was shocked to find them shimmering with what could only be unshed tears. I’d never wanted to delve into those eyes and pull out each painful thing he hid more than I did now.

  My first instinct was to apologize. My second was to get angry. Intact. That was what he meant. The word was enough to set off the dormant rage within me. He wouldn’t give this to me because it belonged to someone else.

  Instead, I stayed where I was, slipping my arms free so I could pull his head to my chest. At first, he tensed, thinking about resisting, but then his arms were around me and his face was pressed against my skin, against the scar where his tracker once lived.

  “One day,” he whispered so low I wasn’t sure I’d heard him or imagined it. I lifted his chin with a finger, the way he’d done to me so many times. It felt strange, this role reversed even if it was only for the smallest of gestures. I didn’t say anything, only giving him a patient, questioning expression.

  “You’re mine,” he said a little louder, but not by much; the conviction in that declaration was as clear as if he’d screamed it. “A piece of paper set atop a mountain of lies doesn’t change that.”

  I had a hard time comprehending what he was telling me. There was no possible way he would ever choose me over his wife. That he’d put her life in danger just to keep me for himself.

  I understood where he was coming from. It was all nonsense when it was laid out in black and white. Wealthy men and women playing with those deemed lesser than them as if they were dolls. I wondered what the Mainworld thought of us. What they would think if they knew the whole truth to the Order.

  Vultures were powerful. They ran our world and theirs. If my Owner made a deal to transfer me to a blacklisted Member and backed out, it wouldn’t just be me and his wife in danger anymore.

  I tenderly kissed his forehead the way I imagined a mother would—a real one who didn’t give up their children because of a glorified cult based on fairytales. “You wife is yours, sir,” I whispered, hating myself for voicing this agonizing truth.

  Now he looked confused, eyebrows drawing together. “Yes,” he said, straightening yet still staying close, “and so are you.”

  I wanted to cry mostly because I knew it could never be a real possibility. Both of his hands were on my face, fingers grasping the very edge of my hair. When my eyes met his, they burned into me as if I’d slapped him across the face. The same why they had looked when I bit him and drawn his blood.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  I couldn’t answer. A lie was just as bad as the truth.

  The muscles in his jaw twitched as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. “Non,” he whispered to himself. “Comment peux-tu?” No, how could you?

  Master Lyon paused for too long, thinking, sinking even more into his mind and the thorns that crowded it. Then, as if he had been in a storm and the clouds had just parted, he looked up at me with clear eyes and grinned. “Come.” He stood and took me with him, setting me on my feet in one swift motion.

  Without the warmth of his body against me, I stood near the bed and he went into drawers to gather clothing.

  Although I was more than capable now, he dressed me, only letting me lift my arms or legs to help. I noticed how his fingers idled anywhere there was exposed skin, how they trailed over the arms of the fuzzy rose-colored sweater or the waist of the black pants he swiftly buttoned.

  When he was done, he placed a wool hat on my head, taking his time to arrange my hair over my shoulders before he stood there studying me.

  I wasn’t sure if it was safe to ask questions just yet, so I watched him watch me, waiting for him to speak first.

  “So quiet, Doe,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Are you still thinking about my cock against you?” He smiled.

  I couldn’t even be embarrassed about the question. The sensation was still fresh in my mind and my lips formed into a grin of my own before I realized it was happening. “No, sir,” I answered, trying to wipe the expression from my face.

  Thankfully, he abandoned the topic before it could get too real, too uncomfortable. He took my hand and led me out of the room. I expected the house to be empty aside from us and Mr. B—the way things had always been—but people wearing crisp black and white uniforms filled the downstairs area, bustling into and out of rooms, cleaning and rearranging. My feet froze on the landing, unwilling to carry me any farther.

  Master Lyon immediately felt the tension in his arm and turned to me. “It’s all right, Doe,” he said as if I was being ridiculous. He tugged on my hand and I still couldn’t move.

  Now he frowned. “You need to behave,” he said quietly, so serious that I saw a glint in his eyes as he calculated what could happen if I didn’t.

  “Who are they, sir?” I watched as Mr. B entered the foyer among them, directing women with bouquets of flowers larger than their heads towards the kitchen.

  “Pay them no mind,” he said, waving away the question. This time, he moved closer so he could better guide me down the stairs with one hand between my shoulders. “They’ve been instructed to ignore you. They won’t bother you, ma petit.”

  Had anyone been paying attention, they would have only seen two people casually making their way to the ground floor, but I could tell Master
Lyon was being overly patient with me. Though this favoritism wouldn’t help me in the long run, it felt good now. I didn’t feel like I needed to pretend to be brave, which I had a feeling I would be doing a lot of in the near future.

  However, his actions also told me something else: whatever was happening tonight really was big.

  Once we were in the foyer, Master Lyon retrieved our coats from the hook by the front door; mine had stayed there since I ran and I hadn’t needed it for anything since. My eyes widened in astonishment and he couldn’t miss it.

  He chuckled softly. “Yes, Doe. We’re going outside.” He slipped on his jacket and then helped me into mine. “I expect you to stay by my side. Unless you’d like a beating…?” He grinned as he flipped the fur-lined hood over my head. “You’re healed enough to endure one. Your injuries can’t protect you anymore.”

  I knew he was kidding, and I tried with everything within me to tell myself it was his way of coping with the situation, but as he bent to slide on my boots and tie the laces, I found it hard to keep the sting of tears out of my eyes.

  Zipped up to the neck, he nodded once to himself, satisfied that I would be warm. Just as he was opening the door and letting in a gust of cool wind, Mr. B came back into the entryway. He wore his usual butler’s uniform: Black pants, vest, and jacket with a white shirt underneath.

  “Dinner will be at nine, Master Lyon,” he said as he passed, but I didn’t miss how he glanced at me. He seemed happy to see me, yet there was something else. Pity or guilt. I wasn’t sure and I would have much rather ignored it.

  “Thank you, Marius,” Master Lyon replied, already distracting me as he pulled me outside. We only took a few steps away from the house, towards the wooded path on the other side, before he stopped to face me.

  At least he didn’t ask me what was wrong. More than likely, he knew how terrified I was and how that overrode an otherwise amazing experience of being in the fresh air for the first time since my attempted escape. Maybe he felt the same way.

  I hadn’t noticed that a few tears had slipped free and his hands were on my cheeks, wiping them away. His eyes bore into mine and my fingers unconsciously wrapped around his wrists like I was afraid I’d fall over.

  It was beyond improper to question your Owner’s actions, even if it was silent like this.

  Yet I didn’t let go. I wanted to touch him, to feel the smooth, delicate skin of his wrists as the tendons beneath my fingers flexed to clean my face.

  “No more tears,” he whispered. “That’s an order.”

  Glaring up at him, I did my best to gulp down the rest of my tears before they could overcome me.

  I took a few deep, slow breaths and he waited, expression unchanging, body unmoving. Finally, he kissed my forehead. The motion was so deliberate it almost made me shiver with its sincerity. His grip around my face was so loose now that I knew he was about to pull away; the only thing stopping him were my own hands. I wanted to stay this way as long as possible. Be these people a moment more. Instances like these were when I saw him, truly, no matter what he wanted to be called. I could see how a woman like his wife would marry him. How anyone could fall in lo—

  “Come, Doe,” he said as if he’d seen me gone adrift and wanted to tow me back without waiting for the rough waters to do it for him. He let me go and any skin he’d touched turned colder than the winter air surrounding us.

  His fingers woven through mine, we continued onto the path and into the trees. The morning sun shone through the gaps in the needles, teasing my skin with the sensation of the briefest warmth before they were gone. There was more snow on the ground than the last time we’d taken this route and it crunched like glass under our weight. We were so silent I wanted to scream.

  “Sir,” I almost whispered, voice unprepared, “may I ask where we’re going?”

  Of course, I had already guessed we were going to the stable to visit his horse, but I needed something to talk about. If we didn’t talk, it would be that much harder to remember his voice when he was gone.

  He blinked a few times, the sun playing on his lashes. “You may, but I’m afraid the answer would only ruin my plans.” Master Lyon paused for a moment so I did too. “Speaking of which…” he said to himself, digging in his coat pocket. When he produced a black length of cloth, my grip around his fingers tightened.

  It must have showed on my face how nervous it made me because his expression softened as he came closer.

  As the soft material slid over my eyelids, he said, “I don’t want you to know where we’re going.” It was meant to be reassuring, but it only formed a rock in my stomach.

  His hand was on my shoulder, arm across my back, and I was too aware of the knotted fabric behind my head, keeping me in the dark. We started walking again and I stumbled over a tree root.

  He laughed softly. “You need to rely on your other senses,” he said. “When one freedom is taken away, you must learn to use what you have left.”

  I was confused as to why he was choosing now to become so deep in thought. I assumed from his tone that he was speaking about more than just me wearing a blindfold.

  The rest of the way, we said nothing. I wanted to talk, to hear his voice, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything besides not tripping and not crying. Instinct told me that this was a bad idea, him blinding me to take me somewhere I’d already been, but again I reminded myself that I was not in trouble. If I had been, I would have known by now. He would have wanted to make the suspense more painful than this.

  Only his one hand on the small of my back guided me; he wanted me to feel out my path, to recognize what was going on around me and the proper way to react with my sight stolen. He was patient, letting me feel out the terrain and avoid any obstructions when my boots touched them. I could hear and feel when the wind slightly changed, indicating what I quickly learned were tree branches or fallen logs. In my mind’s eye, I could conjure the image of the area, almost able to see what lay ahead of me.

  Finally, after what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, he stopped me., yet I could hear and sense him standing in front of me, both hands on my shoulders.

  “Don’t move,” he said as if to steady me further, my feet planted in the snow.

  I heard him shuffle a few paces in front of me, something clinking against a hard surface and a small series of metallic clicks. It took me less than a few seconds to register where I’d heard those sounds before.

  A lock. A lock to a cage.

  “Please, sir,” I blurted out, unaware my mouth had so much as opened before the words left it.

  “Hush, Doe.” He said it pleasantly, as if playing a game. “If you use that mind of yours, you will find there is nothing to be frightened of.”

  The noises had stopped and it gave me an opportunity to catch my breath. He was right. When I got past the immediate association my brain had used to send me into a panic, I reminded myself of what I’d already known before the blindfold was on: The only thing in this direction was the stable. We hadn’t taken any longer to get here than the two times I’d visited previously, and it had a lock on its doors. I even heard him opening them.

  “You know where you are now?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yes, sir.” I felt stupid for overreacting, but didn’t blame myself. Besides, I shouldn’t get used to things turning out for the better. From now on, I needed to believe the exact opposite.

  If I hadn’t guessed where we were by now, the smell would have given it away. Next was the sudden change in temperature from frigid to warm. He must have known I’d immediately figure it out because the blindfold was removed. I blinked a few times to adjust from complete darkness to the soft light streaming in from the entrance. He hit a button somewhere on the wall and the overhead lights came on, but by then my vision had adapted.

  Down the corridor, Onyx’s shiny black velvet head poked out from his half-opened stall.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Relieved, sir,
” was my reply.

  His eyes narrowed slightly. “Relieved?” In contrast, his voice was overly relaxed. “Where did you think I was taking you?”

  I shrugged, cheeks flaming as he stepped towards his horse so he could pet it.

  He watched me, maybe waiting for a better explanation, but fortunately he didn’t ask for one. “Come here, Doe.” He held out his free hand, yet now that I’d ridden the massive animal, my fear for it had somewhat subsided.

  I stood beside him, not as concerned as I had been the first time to reach out and pet Onyx. “Thank you for bringing me outside, sir,” I said instead. “Thank you for taking me to see your horse.”

  The animal’s head was as soft as I remembered, and I blocked out any thought of what it felt like to be in control of something so massive, so loyal to its owner—even if it had only been a short while before he threw me off. I stared into his deep shiny eyes. Was this one more thing Master Lyon Owned? I wondered what the horse had seen, where he’d been, if he felt taken care of or just taken.

  Straightening his posture, Master Lyon smiled. “This was not the reason I brought you here.”

  My hand stilled and Onyx pressed his head into my palm, asking me to keep going. “There’s more, sir?”

  Master Lyon extended his hand and this time I accepted it without hesitation. We walked a short distance from his horse’s stall, passing a few empty ones before we stopped.

  The doors to the stalls were all wooden, welded bars at face level which could be closed when—I presumed—the horses went to sleep for the night. I didn’t get a chance to look into this one before he spun me around to face him. “I was going to give this to you tomorrow,” he said. “Forgive the lack of a bow, but I think you need to see this now.”

  I stared back at him, confused, scared, and a little tiny part of me intrigued.

  He nodded once in the direction of the stall. “Go see.”

  As I spun back around, I took a deep breath to clear my head and see what was in front of me. The massive white head of a different horse greeted me as if it had been expecting us. There were no imperfections to its flawless iridescent coat; nothing but a pure white so lustrous that when it shifted in the light, a rainbow of muted colors revealed themselves.