Cam opened his mouth, then closed it. There was a pink essence of light playing about his blond curls. “No. Zanti doesn’t take lovers.”
Ren sat forward. “Sorry I asked. I was going to take a swim. Do you mind?”
Cam’s hand shot out, steadying Ren. He wasn’t rough or even firm. Just insistent. “Please. Let me talk for just a minute. I know you’re curious.”
Ren leaned back, feeling his brow furrow.
Cam took his hand away. “I want to tell you about—about him. At least what I know.”
Throat going a little dry, Ren thought about getting up and getting a soda.
“Zanti isn’t like the rest of us.”
“I sort of noticed.”
“I mean, right, he doesn’t talk. He’s odd, of course. He obeys Master, but not for the reasons you think.”
“What reasons? We’re all slaves. We don’t have a choice and we know it going in.”
“It’s not like that. I’m like the greeter. You know, how I received you, checked off the stuff to orient you into the harem. My tablet has files on all of you guys. Histories. Bios. The webpage the Palace made for you. All your videos. Your essay. Master put me in charge of that. He greets each slave he buys after Niko prepares them. But I’m the hands-on guy. So I know stuff. Zanti can’t talk, but I have his profile. His history. At least part of it.” Cam tapped his tablet. “All here.”
Ren looked at the man’s forefinger tapping the glass of his screen. “So?”
“Zanti is the only one of us not here by consent.”
“He’s not a trained slave?”
Cam shook his head. “Not in the way you know it. Or I. I’m not Palace trained, but I had private training. Consensual training. Then I had an owner before I came here who furthered my training in all ways. For two years. He died.”
“I—I am sorry, Cam.” He wanted to ask if they were close. But he didn’t have to. He could see it in Cam’s now-clouded eyes, and in the way his aura drew in and grayed.
“It’s fine now. I’m happy here. I really am. Master found me and bought me and brought me here. A lot of our stories are like that.”
And Zanti’s? Ren did not care, but then again, he did. That damned boy was on his mind. Often. His head began to ache, which was rare for him, and a sign of stress. And what was Cam really trying to tell him? That Master was some sort of altruistic collector?
“Zanti was taken when he was underage,” Cam began.
Ren closed his eyes and put his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “By Master?” Why was he asking? He didn’t want to know anything about Zanti.
“No. Master has given me permission to tell you this much. Ever heard of Mister X?”
Everyone had, Ren thought. He’d been caught several years ago. The most notorious kidnapper and serial killer of the Northern provinces. Ren had been about fifteen when the guy had been caught. Mister X kept his victims, all men, in cages in his basement in deplorable conditions. Some had been there for years. Others he raped and killed and dumped. He had been known for cutting off their hands and heads so if their bodies were ever found, they would be difficult to identify.
“Why are we talking about serial killers now?” Ren asked.
“I’m trying to tell you!” Cam let out an exasperated breath. “Zanti was one of the boys in the basement.”
If that was true, then how had Zanti come to live here?
“He was there for three years. Can you imagine? He was fifteen when he was abducted,” Cam continued. “Tortured. Raped.” Cam lowered his head. He whispered the rest. “Over and over. Still a boy. Just a boy.”
Ren felt himself go cold. It wasn’t because he didn’t care that an innocent boy had been treated this way. It was the opposite. He didn’t want to see. He didn’t want this to be true. Zanti’s truth. Somehow, it tainted the harem.
Cam said, “Do you remember any of the details of that case from the media?”
Ren really did not. He shook his head.
“The cops had no leads. Everything they had to finally solve the case came from an anonymous tip.”
“Yeah, I sort of remember that.” Ren sighed.
“The thing is, and I’m not really supposed to talk about that… but after what happened with Zanti the other night…” Cam paused. “You’ll keep this to yourself, right?”
“Keep what to myself?”
“Master has connections everywhere. I don’t know much about him except how his tastes run here with the harem, or who he even is. But Zanti… Zanti came from Mister X. Master bought him for a large sum.”
Ren’s blood turned icy. “Master had contact with a serial killer? With that guy?”
Cam nodded. “Master rescued Zanti. They others were too far gone. Remember the news? The film footage? They were catatonic. There were five in the basement. Three died pretty quick. The other two are in institutions. But Master got Zanti out of there first before the cops broke into the house. He made a deal with the killer. Then the cops came, acting on that anonymous tip.”
“You think Master was the anonymous tip?”
Cam nodded.
“But Zanti… he’s, he shouldn’t even be here, then?”
Cam nodded. “He wasn’t for a long time. He had a year of rehab, all on Master’s dime. Master oversaw all of his treatment. Master communicated with him daily by email and text. Zanti never talked but he would respond to Master through letters. The only communication I’ve ever heard of. He doesn’t write anything for me. Doesn’t even try to sign. But with Master, he did. It’s in his file. The letters between them. I am the only one who’s seen them. But after what happened to you… that’s never happened before. Zanti isn’t really violent. And he never has had an orgasm that I have ever known of. This, you coming here, it’s changed things. Zanti is weird, but he doesn’t hurt people. Aaron told me it was like a rape for you and I saw your face when you came downstairs after that night. I’m sorry but I don’t know what happened. Master let it happen for some reason. But you came back hurt. And Zanti hasn’t been the same. And you need to know that. Master told me you needed to know the background, at least.”
Ren’s shoulders hunched. He wasn’t sure what to feel. And he certainly didn’t like the idea that maybe he had disrupted the harem. Had Master done all this on purpose? “All that happened was a stupid play. A story. Zanti was the star. He liked it. Until I touched him.”
“Until you touched him?”
“Yes. He didn’t like me to touch him.”
“He doesn’t like to be touched. But he will for Master’s sake and he’s used to the others. He will obey anything Master tells him to do. But him not liking your touch… well, that’s not what the others are saying. He liked your touch too much.”
“I don’t care what they’re saying. He hates me and I don’t know why. Master didn’t tell him to hurt me. He did that for revenge or something.” He didn’t want to say anymore. He didn’t want to talk to Cam.
“I know Master didn’t tell him to hurt you. It was you he reacted to. And he doesn’t hate you. He’s dealing with the fact that you made him feel.”
“Maybe he doesn’t want to feel.” Ren’s skin heated. He tried to keep his voice down.
“You touched him and that can’t be undone. What he wants and what he feels are a conflict for someone like him.”
“The others touched him.”
“Yes, but you touched him. I repeat, he doesn’t like to be touched. Not even by me. He follows me around, hangs around me a lot, I guess he likes me in his way. We are a thing as you described it, but not in a sexual way. He sleeps with me once in a while if he can’t sleep alone that night. He trusts me. But we’re still not all that close. But he does not like to be touched beyond that, in a sexual way, except in a play for Master it’s okay because he’s a character. Not himself. But you touched him. That’s what happened. From what I hear, anyway.”
Ren re-played the moment in his mind, even though it was the last thing he wante
d to think of. How Zanti’s aura had burst to pinks and lavenders. Pleasure centers on overload.
“Zanti liked it,” Ren whispered, but not with pride. Zanti had liked it, but had not given consent. He’d made a mistake, then. He’d read Zanti wrong, all the colors, the auras of Zanti spoke a different language, one Ren did not himself speak.
Cam gulped. “That’s the problem. He liked it but maybe he doesn’t like that he liked it. So you got the brunt of his frustration. And I just wanted you to understand.”
It was a lot for Ren to take in. All he could think to say was what he’d already said. “He shouldn’t be here.”
“Master invited him. He accepted. But like I said, Master rescued him. Master is everything to him. All of this…” Cam gestured about the atrium. “He didn’t ever in his entire life consent like we did to being a pleasure slave. He doesn’t have a brand like the rest of us. There’s the reason.”
Ren’s eyebrows rose. “You told me it was because he was so strange you thought he would freak out at the pain.”
“I lied. It’s about consent. It’s about Zanti and his rescue and everything else. Do you understand now?”
“No. I don’t understand. I still don’t know why Master would have him here in the harem. It seems wrong.”
“Zanti is safe here. He can relax here. He’s like the wiriest, slipperiest guy, but on rare nights he curls against me and relaxes. Finally. He can sleep. He doesn’t dream. He’s safe. He’s as happy as he’ll ever get. He would not survive out in the real world. This is what he knows. This is familiar to him. As long as it’s safe. He’ll play roles, but as Zanti himself, he does not play with the rest of us.”
“But why did Master—“ Ren was going to ask how Master could have let the play get as far as it did, with Zanti’s actions turning toward sexual assault.
“Master doesn’t control Zanti,” Cam said as if reading his mind. “I’m sorry about what happened to you. And on your first visit upstairs. But I have looked at your profile and I know you were bought and brought here for reasons more than just Master’s whim. What I mean is, I saw you with the other guys. Li Po. Jaxon and Calder. You’re different. You’re very special with that talent of yours. You said Zanti liked it when you touched him. That’s not normal for him. And there is the reason, perhaps, that you are here.”
“For Zanti?”
Cam nodded.
No. It couldn’t be. Ren thought about the play, about the evil count who’d bought Zanti and kept him to try to break through to him. No one could touch Zanti. Until Ren in his mask came forward. The play had been more than just a play. A carefully planned metaphor? A test?
“Aaron told me Zanti came,” Cam said. “Uh, orgasmed. Zanti doesn’t do that. He can get hard, but he doesn’t ejaculate. He doesn’t finish. Not even for Master’s plays. He performs. He’s pretty and he does what he’s told. He can make the others come.” Cam smiled wistfully. “But he doesn’t do that himself. Come, I mean.”
It would have been nice if Ren had known this beforehand. Keeping him in the dark did him no favors. And now, with this new information, what was he supposed to do about it?
When Ren did not immediately reply, Cam sat forward. “So now you know.”
Ren could only nod. The information was too much all at once. He had made Zanti respond. Come. How was that even a good thing? It had obviously made Zanti hate him all the more.
Finally, he spoke. “I don’t know what you want me to do about this information. Zanti should stay away from me, of course, if he doesn’t want to feel. And he should not be part of any plays. Master should know this. But Zanti should also be made to understand that none of this is my fault. He did try to hurt me— No, he did hurt me.”
“I know. I know.” Cam held his hand up. “So we all have to live together here in somewhat harmony. I do my best to orient newcomers, putting in requests, supplying Master with reports.”
“Reports?”
“Yes. I submit one very day.”
“About us?”
“All of us, yes. It’s my job.”
The change of subject helped Ren focus. More questions pummeled his thoughts. “But you have actually never met Master?”
“No. I spoke the truth about that before. I haven’t. Not me. Not any of us. Except I think Zanti has. I can’t know for sure. If I ask him direct questions like that—anything to do with Master—even though he trusts me, he won’t even nod or shake his head. I can get him to acknowledge liking a movie, or if he’s hungry, but that’s about the extent of it.”
How had the conversation gotten back to Zanti? Unable to let go of his resentment, Ren focused his interest on Master.
“You put in requests to Master.” Ren did not form his statement as a question. “Put this one in. Ren would like to meet Master.”
Cam let out a long, low laugh. The skin around his eyes wrinkled, clueing Ren into the fact that Cam was older than he let on. Maybe as old as thirty. But he wore make up to soften his features, and his hair was so bright and thick and curly it gave him a boyish demeanor.
“Everyone asks that at some point,” Cam replied. “Everyone except Zanti, of course.”
“And their requests are refused.”
“Well, duh.”
“Put mine in anyway. I don’t want to be left out,” Ren said.
Cam tapped his table half-heartedly.
Ren said, “Do you know why Master sees no one?”
“Only gossip and theories, so no.”
Ren sensed movement behind him, and turned. Zanti was sidling up to Cam, a rather vicious look to him, which was normal. But still. Vicious was the only word Ren could think to describe it. Or feral. He liked that word. Wild. Untamed. It did not excuse Zanti’s behavior, but gave some reason to it.
But more words quickly came to him as he kept his gaze averted. Ethereal. Devilish beauty. Bewitching, striking, dazzling asshole. And surviving victim of a notorious serial killer.
Had Zanti been eavesdropping on their conversation?
His heart skipped, then quickened. He blinked hard.
“Zanti,” said Cam in a welcoming voice. “Ren and I were just talking.”
Zanti’s chest rose as he took a deep breath and held it. His eyes flickered. His aura remained dark, almost solid black. Ren could not read him.
Zanti’s gaze switched from Cam to Ren and back to Cam. His mouth was a tight line.
Ren said, “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel uncomfortable.”
Zanti’s eyes filled, but the tears were like angry sparks, not sadness, not forgiveness.
“Zanti,” Cam said softly. “Nothing Ren does here is his fault. You know that. You hurt him. Ren has apologized. Can you? Maybe just shake his hand.”
Ren watched the man. He looked as if he were about to explode with emotion.
Zanti lifted his hand, then batted at the air.
“Zanti.” Cam cocked his hip. “Come on. We all have to get along. And Ren is new. We need to help him fit in.”
Zanti crossed his arms over his chest and turned away.
Ren stood quickly. A hurt came over him, turning to annoyance. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll just stay away from him.”
Zanti turned back to look at him, brows narrowed as if he were the hurt one.
“What?” Ren held his hands to his sides, palms up.
“Well,” Cam said. “If you’re rejecting him it just makes things more awkward.”
“I’m not. He’s rejecting me.”
“Zanti? Is that true?” Cam asked.
Zanti let out a whoosh of breath and turned his head so his long bangs slapped across his face.
“I’m not rejecting you,” Ren said again.
Zanti shook his arms, his beautiful body shuddering in response.
“Well, that’s my answer,” Ren said. “I’ll stay away from him. And if Master calls us again, I’ll protest it.”
“You can’t.”
“I will.” Ren turned. “I’m going
for a swim. Don’t forget. Tell Master to think about a garden for us. I want a garden. I don’t care if it takes a year like Aaron’s piano. And please put in the request that I also want to meet him.”
Cam tapped his tablet screen again.
Zanti glared at him as he moved away. Ren pretended not to notice. But he couldn’t help but hear a strange sort of hum that came from Zanti’s direction.
What the fuck? Was the man growling at him?
Despite Ren’s conviction to dismiss the guy, and not care, his spine tingled and stiffened at the sound. The body’s instinctive response to a threat. But Zanti was not a threat, was he?
His thoughts fumed. He held no ill will toward anyone. Ever. Not at the Palace and not here. He’d had rough sex plenty of times and held no grudges because of it. But Zanti—even now that he knew more from his talk with Cam, for some reason it only made things more complicated.
Ren saw Li Po walking toward the pool, and called out to him. “Swim?”
Li Po gave him a thumbs up.
Together they met by the side of the pool and dived in.
The cool water muffled all sound. Ren’s vision blurred. The only auras underwater were refractions of real light rays shattering as his legs and arms broke the liquid surface.
With Li Po beside him as comfort, Ren swam laps with powerful strokes until he was worn out, until he couldn’t think anymore.
Chapter Eighteen
Fight
Daylight stabbed its silvery rays through the open window.
Two nights in a row, Master had called for men from his harem, three at a time. First the twins and Tomo. Second, Aaron along with Calder and Jaxon. But not Ren.
Maybe Master had heard Ren and Cam’s conversation. Or maybe Cam had put it in his report that it was best of Master kept Ren and Zanti apart.
The ones called had returned with sexually satisfied grins on their faces. All fucked out.
Li Po said to him, when Ren mentioned feeling a twinge of rejection. “There are some of us not called for as much as a year. Then suddenly we’re requested several nights in a row. It doesn’t matter really, does it?”
Ren shrugged. It did to him. He wanted to live for Master. Be everything for Master. He was perfectly fine playing with the others. But he could not feel that somehow this feeling of being left out was about Zanti.
The Slave Harem: A Kingdom of Slaves Book Page 15
