Blackwood

by Celia Aaron

  I slowed to a stop in the middle of the levee, water sparkling on either side. My thoughts strayed back to the scars on Stella’s wrists and the knife she’d hidden in her nightstand. I’d almost taken it from her as she slept. My fingers had traced the handle, the blade. Somehow I knew it was the same one she’d used on herself. Ultimately I’d left it there. I shouldn’t have. Another mistake.

  The engine roared to life beneath me and the bike ate up the smooth road through the woods and over the waterways. Wild turkeys scattered as I raced through their territory. I made the entire loop around the property before cruising down the winding lane and out to the front gate.

  Approaching the bottleneck of woods and metal, I saw the glint of something metallic through the bars. A car sat on the outside, foolishly seeking entrance to my territory. I grimaced at the idiocy of the attempt, the sheer lack of understanding this visit revealed. Still, I knew he’d come.

  I pulled to the right so I could stand broadside against the wrought iron. When I killed the engine, a heavy silence fell.

  “Mr. Rousseau. Nice to see you.”

  He peered through the bars and vines, his eyes red and watery. There was nothing to see. Only me.

  “Let her go.” His wavering voice made me sick.

  “No.”

  “You, motherfucker!” A younger man leapt from the car and rushed over. “Bring her out or we’re coming in.”

  I laughed. “That’s adorable. If there’s nothing else, I’d best be going. Pressing matters and all.”

  He gripped the bars and tried to shake them. Nothing. This fence could withstand a lot more than some prep school prick in lacrosse gear.

  “Dylan, stop. We can’t win that way.”

  “Listen to the old man, Dylan.” I let the venom that had welled up inside me over the past twenty-four hours infect my words.

  “Please.” It was a teary plea from Mr. Rousseau. “Just let her go. I-I’ll go to prison willingly if you’ll just let her go.”

  Pathetic. “Too late. The deal’s done. If that’s all the business you have to transact, I’m sorry to say you wasted your trip. Goodbye, Mr. Rousseau.”

  Dylan erupted in yells and a respectable amount of profanity.

  I cut off his cries with the fire of my engine, and left them standing at the gate as I screamed along the smooth road toward the house.

  They were fools.

  She was mine. No one could take her from me. Not even her own blood.

  Stella

  I stayed in my room for the rest of the day. There was nowhere I could run, nothing to do. I took a long, hot shower. While I’d been out for breakfast—and the run across the lawn, and the nude exhibition—someone had come in and put luxurious shampoos, soaps, and other thoughtful amenities in my bathroom. The mental image of Farns daintily stacking tampon boxes actually pulled a laugh from me. So, that was something.

  After my shower I lay on my bed, cooling off, wearing just a towel around my hair. I clicked on the overhead fan with the remote from the bedside table, letting the cool air waft down over me. The quilts along the walls ruffled with the breeze.

  I was warm, relatively well fed, and had a modicum of safety in this room. It didn’t erase my unease as much as I would have liked. I was still caught in a web, even if the silken threads that bound me were soft and beautiful.

  My eyelids drooped, the heat from the shower and the run from the morning pulling me downward into sleep. But I wouldn’t go. Whenever my eyes finally closed, I saw Vinemont’s face. His anger. And something else, too. The heat when he’d been on top of me in the grass, his hand between my thighs.

  I knew it was a transgression. I shouldn’t have wanted it. His voice was a subtle poison, creeping into my system, luring me deeper into his hell. My nipples pearled as I remembered the feel of his hard shaft against my thigh. What would it feel like inside me?

  I tried to swat the thought out of my mind, but my fingers crept down to my still damp pussy. I teased my hard clit with the tip of my finger, sending a jolt of need pulsing through my body. I tried to pull my fingers away, hating the image of Vinemont in my mind, looming over me, his mouth cruel and sensual.

  How much of him was covered in the vine tattoos? How low did the ink go?

  My finger disobeyed, dipping lower, swirling around my aching clit. My hips rocked up to meet each stroke, the tension rising like someone slowly pulling a string taut. My breaths came in quick pants as I continued working myself, visions of Vinemont’s face between my legs driving me wild with the need for release. When I imagined his eyes lit with desire for me and only me, I couldn’t hold back the wave of pleasure. I bit my cheek to keep from crying out, though I still made some high-pitched noises that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.

  Something slammed somewhere nearby in the house, like a heavy book falling from a high shelf. Embarrassment and worry cooled my brief, blissful high. I whipped the blanket over my body. After a few moments, my breathing returned to normal. I wasn’t sated exactly, but I had cleared my head enough to remember that Vinemont was my enemy, nothing more.

  I began to drift into sleep when there was a knock at my door. I sat up and glanced to the closet where my few clothes were hanging.

  “It’s just me, miss.” A woman’s voice.

  “Oh, come in?” I didn’t know who ‘me’ was, but she sounded harmless enough.

  She entered, a middle aged woman in an understated maid’s uniform, black except for the white Peter Pan collar. Her hair was strikingly dark, cascading down her back in a shiny mane. If there were any grays, I couldn’t see them. She could have been no older than 45.

  She smiled, warm and friendly, despite a distinct look of sadness written in the wrinkles around her dark eyes. “Welcome. I’ll be your personal maid during your stay with us. If you need anything, just ask for me. I’m Renee.”

  “So you’re the one who put all the good soaps and things in the bathroom?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I also took the liberty of ordering some more clothing items in your sizes. Of course, Mr. Sinclair assisted me in choosing for you.”

  I frowned. The thought of Vinemont choosing my clothes was beyond irritating. I wasn’t his pet or a doll he could dress. I was a prisoner.

  She folded her hands in front of her. “I know how you feel. It’s all more than a little off-putting, but things will fall together in time.”

  I pulled the towel from my head and rubbed my temple with one hand, the other still holding up the blanket. “You know how I feel? Are you a slave, Renee?”

  Her deep brown eyes lit for just a hint of a moment. “I am not, ma’am.”

  “Then I don’t think you could possibly know how I feel. No offense.”

  “None taken, ma’am.” Her gracious smile returned despite my barb.

  I sighed. I’d been an Acquisition for less than a day and parts of me—the kind ones, the gentle ones—were already splintering. “I’m sorry,” I said as she retreated to my bathroom. “This isn’t your fault.”

  I was the one who signed the contract. Renee didn’t force me into it.

  She came back with a brush and sat down on the bed next to me. “Here.” She put her hands out, offering to brush my hair.

  I scooted around to her, still keeping the blanket pressed to my chest.

  “It’s fine. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t angry.” She started at the ends of my hair just like my mother used to do. “The path of least resistance” Mom used to call it, working out the kinks from the bottom up until my hair was smooth.

  “How many of me have there been?”

  She kept brushing with careful strokes. “How many Acquisitions?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to say.”

  I sighed and let my chin fall to my chest.

  She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Two that I know of in the Vinemont family in the past twenty years. There were more before that, but I don’t know all the details
.”

  “So few? It isn’t an annual sort of thing?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “You said ‘in the Vinemont family’? Are there Acquisitions in other families or something?”

  “Yes.”

  “But why? What’s the purpose?” Why would they do this? What could possibly be the reason for enslaving people just for the sake of enslaving them? Maybe that would be the best outcome—a kept slave for a year. No labor, no punishments, no ill treatment. I shook my head. It was all too good to be true. Fear crept up my spine as my question lingered in the air. Something told me there was more, far more to all of it than I could even guess.

  “Just tell me why.” My tone had gone from curious to desperate.

  She hesitated, the brush in the middle of my locks. “You’ll see tomorrow.”

  “What’s tomorrow?” Dread settled like an anchor in my gut.

  The brush continued, smoothing the waves as it went. “The Acquisition Ball.”

  Lucius and Vinemont had spoken about a ball over breakfast, but I hadn’t realized I would be going.

  “A ball? I’m a slave and I’m going to a ball?”

  “I really can’t say any more.”

  My mind was whirling. What was this ball? Was it the actual reason, however twisted, for Vinemont to have forced me into the contract?

  She reached the crown of my head, still easing the bristles down through the strands. “There, I think we’re done.”

  She rose and then stopped, noticing the photo of my mother and me on my nightstand. “She’s beautiful.”

  I nodded. “She was.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Yes.” I studied the picture right along with Renee. I’d been trying for years to divine what she was thinking, why she would leave my father and me the way she did. I supposed I shouldn’t have looked too hard, especially given that I’d done the same thing. I just didn’t see it all the way through the way she had.

  “I’m sorry.” Renee put a comforting hand on my shoulder.

  She gave me a light squeeze and returned the brush to the bathroom. “I’ll have Laura bring your lunch in fifteen minutes if that’s all right. Or you can take it downstairs with Mr. Sinclair and Mr. Luciu—”

  “Here is fine.” The thought of having to see either of them in the same dining room turned my stomach.

  She gave a slight bow and left. I dressed in a t-shirt and some pajama bottoms and sank down on the window seat, letting the sun bathe me in afternoon light. The trees were starting to give away their leaves, a brown and orange carpet amassing at the edges of the grass expanse. I pushed the window open and let the cool breeze rush into the room. It carried the smells of grass and woods and water.

  I breathed it in, reminding myself I was alive. Even if my life belonged to another for some ridiculous expanse of time, I was alive and I would fight to stay that way. I ran my hand along the scars on one of my wrists. I wouldn’t break. I wouldn’t go willingly into darkness. Never again.

  I spent the rest of the day in my room. Thankfully, I was able to talk Laura into bringing me a sampling of books from the library downstairs. The books were older, but well worth reading, especially the few bodice rippers she’d found.

  I’d wanted to wander around the house and investigate, but I kept getting the mental image of two knights in armor crossing their swords in front of me and blocking my way. More than that, the thought of running into Lucius without anyone else around was a chance I wasn’t willing to take.

  Vinemont didn’t summon or visit me at all, which was a relief. He’d gone into town, apparently, to handle some official district attorney business. Sure. I supposed the work of railroading innocent citizens was a constant, thankless job.

  When Laura brought my dinner, I asked if she could get me some painting supplies. She promised to make my request to Renee. If I were going to spend all my time hiding in my room, which was my game plan so far, then I would need plenty to keep me occupied.

  The night passed without incident or even a hint of Vinemont.

  The next morning, I was already up and dressed in a light sweater and jeans when the knock came at my door.

  “Come in.”

  Instead of Farns, it was Renee. She was still dressed in all black with the white collar, and her dark hair was arranged in flowing waves.

  “Good morning, ma’am.”

  “Morning, Renee. And please call me Stella. What happened to Farns?”

  “He’s with Mr. Sinclair all day. I’m with you. I hope that’s all right.” Her gaze dropped to the floor.

  “Oh, no, no. I didn’t mean it that way at all. I was just curious. I’m happy to see you again.”

  After the words fell out, I realized they were true. I was happy to have someone to talk to. Maybe I could even call her a friend, such as they were in this new world.

  She raised her face, her smile making her luminous in the morning light. “I’m happy to see you, too. I must admit, I asked to be assigned to you as soon as I heard about your arrival.”

  “Why?”

  She put her hands in her skirt pockets. “I just feel like we may have some things in common is all.”

  “Oh, so you hate Sinclair Vinemont, too?”

  She laughed. It was an open, inviting sound that held nothing back. “I certainly don’t, and I don’t believe you do either.”

  I leaned back against my bedpost. “Pretty sure I do.”

  “Well, in any case, you have a big day and an even bigger night. I’m here to help you through all of it.”

  “You told me about the ball tonight. So, what are we doing today?”

  “Getting ready, of course. Mr. Sinclair gave me explicit instructions on how he wants you prepared. He ordered your gown the night you arrived, and he picked out your jewels and accessories with me this morning.” She walked to me and took my arm. “You are going to be the most beautiful Acquisition they’ve ever seen.”

  I pulled my arm from her grasp, anger rushing through me like a wildfire. “You’re excited? About putting Vinemont’s property on display before some other loathsome people just like him?”

  She returned her hands to her pockets. “I was only trying to…” She shrugged and met my eyes again. “I can’t undo the contract. I can’t stop the ball or anything else that goes on, but I can help you if you’ll let me. I can see you through until the end when your year is up and you can leave. That’s all I want to do.”

  The earnestness of her words struck me like a bolt to my heart. She was right. I had signed the contract and now I was bound to it. If she wanted to help, then I would be wise to let her. I only wished I knew more about the Acquisition. Still, I would take whatever allies I could get.

  “I’m sorry, Renee. I’m just…”

  Emboldened by my apology, she took my arm again. “I know. Like I said yesterday, I understand. Now, let’s get you to the spa.”

  I almost fell back against the bed. “The spa?”

  “Here on the property, of course. Mr. Vinemont called in professionals from all over the country for this. You’re going to get the royal treatment.”

  She pulled me out into the hallway and down the front steps.

  “What does this entail, exactly?”

  “First, breakfast.”

  I dug in my heels and stopped despite the angry rumble of my stomach. “I don’t want to see them.”

  “The boys are already out and about today. Don’t worry.”

  “Boys? You mean the two sadistic men who live here with their third clueless brother?”

  She walked me into the thankfully empty breakfast room. “I’ve known them since they were wee ones, so I still think of them as boys.”

  She called for Laura, effectively cutting off my incredulous commentary with the sight of a breakfast tray piled high with deliciousness.

  Renee sipped her coffee as I demolished my breakfast. If she was right about having a big day planned, I certainly had a big enough breakfast to p
ower through it.

  I wiped my mouth daintily, though it did nothing to undo my earlier lack of manners.

  Renee finished her coffee. “Ready to get started?”

  I stood and stretched like a lazy cat. “Lead the way.”

  “One more thing.” She showed me down the hallway, leading me deeper into the house than I’d been as of yet. “You are about to meet some new people. They’re outsiders. They wouldn’t understand what’s going on. It would be best if you told them as little as possible in order to avoid any unpleasant complications. They know you’re going to a ball. Just keep it at that.”

  “So I shouldn’t tell them that I’m an Acquisition and utterly at the mercy of Vinemont?”

  Her quick step faltered for a second but then she regained her pace. “Exactly.”

  The spa was in a wing toward the back of the house. It was in what seemed to be a converted sunroom. The walls and ceiling were made of paned glass, letting in natural light and warmth. It was an open area with river stone floors, a sunken hot tub in the center of the room, a large wood sauna set to one side, and massage tables to the other. It smelled wonderful, like expensive bath oils and some sort of woodsy incense.

  Two men and two women stood waiting for us. Renee went in first and introduced me down the row of staff.

  “This is Alex. He’s from New Orleans. He’ll be in charge of your hair and makeup for the night.”

  He was a young man with a bright orange faux hawk, multiple piercings in his eyebrows, peacock-colored eyeshadow, and colorful tattoos on each arm.

  “Nice to meet you, Ms. Rousseau. When I’m done, you are going to be the belle of the ball.”

  I looked at Renee, my eyebrows high. “Does everyone know about the ball but me?”