Li Po smiled and reminded him, “There are cameras hidden everywhere. Everything we do here is a show. Seen by him.” He grinned. “When you have sex with me, he’s probably watching.”
Ren lifted his chin. “You’re right.” He smiled at Li Po’s sweet face. “That’s a great idea. Let’s make him watch right now.”
Li Po took his hand and pulled him to a wide, soft couch. They were good together. Really good. Who wouldn’t want to watch?
Well, one person who watched was Zanti. Again. And he scowled at Ren when their gazes met. Then he flipped him off.
“What the fuck did I do?” Ren murmured. He was incensed. He scowled back, shaking his head hard.
“What?” Li Po asked. He hadn’t seen.
“Nothing.” But it disturbed him greatly. The mad boy had it out for him, and for nothing he had willingly done to him. If Zanti thought he rejected him, he needed to be told otherwise.
Ren decided to have another talk with Cam. Later.
After Ren and Li Po finished making love, they rested in each other’s arms, then took a dip in the pool.
Ren held his breath and swam the full length of the pool underwater, feeling his chest expand, his muscles burn with an enticing tingle, encased and enchanted by the water’s embrace. It comforted and calmed him. Everything was white and blue, bright and cool. Clean and chlorine fresh. In this moment, he did not long for a different life. This was good. He felt accepted, even somewhat loved by Li Po although they weren’t really in love. Maybe things might escalate to that. If he couldn’t have Master’s hands-on love, he could have Li Po. Li Po did not have the penchant for taking charge that Ren might like, but sex was good with him. Great, even.
Propelled by a new energy at his thoughts, Ren did not stop at the pool’s wall for a breath, but pushed himself off in the other direction to see how far he’d get holding his breath. Could he do two lengths?
The opposite end came closer and closer. He was letting out little bubbles from his nose, but he knew he’d make it. It was shallower here. His feet hit the bottom and he popped himself up like a dolphin, water showering from his body as he gasped for air.
He heard echoes of a voice. Master’s. But he’d missed the command. But most of the men of the harem had gathered and as Ren stood dripping in the water, clutching the side of the pool, they turned their heads to stare at him, eyebrows raised or narrowed, mouths in tight thin lines or opened in some strange look of disbelief.
“What?” he said breathlessly. “I’m not…”
Before he could finish, or even register that something had happened that concerned him, that Master’s voice had given a command which he had not heard, Zanti strode toward him so quickly he did not have time to react.
Cam, not seeing Zanti at first, wiggled his tablet in the air. “You and Zanti have been called. Shall I make a protest?”
“What?” He looked from Cam to Zanti, whose face fell. Then anger blackened his aura and white sparks flew from the edges.
Ren looked up at him as Zanti approached the side of the pool. Angry fairy. Wicked imp. Aura like pitch surrounding that beautiful body, those beguiling eyes.
“Get away! I’ve done nothing to you! I would think you would want to protest!”
Quick as a blink, Zanti’s foot came up and smashed itself into Ren’s chin, sending him reeling backward. Well what the fuck did the guy want, then? He heard Cam’s startled voice. “Zanti! Stop!”
Without really thinking, the water buoyant enough to delay his fall, Ren snatched at that foot trying to avoid it, and pulled Zanti into the pool on top of him.
The splash sent a million water droplets into the air. The liquid of the pool’s surface enfolded them both as they flailed, arms out, Zanti’s legs kicking at Ren as he went under, butt first.
Ren came up, braids whipping the water that flashed about his head. Zanti’s body was already launching himself at him, like a fish, and down they went, the water pushing at them as they sank. Water got up Ren’s nose and stung. In a burst of bubbles, he gave an underwater cry and shoved, but Zanti’s arms were already coming about his shoulders, his hands at Ren’s throat.
Cam’s very short list of rules came back to him. No fighting in the harem. Cam had said men had been permanently removed from the harem for fighting, for violence. But Zanti had an edge. He was a favorite. The rescued orphan. The tortured boy from a serial killer’s cage.
Zanti was not here by his own will, but through some agreed-to plan of Master’s that was different from why Ren and the others were here. They were all pleasure slaves. Except Zanti. Zanti pretended. Zanti obeyed Master’s commands. But he was different. The rules were different for him.
It dawned on Ren, even as he fought for the surface, for breath amid Zanti’s crazed attack, that Zanti was exempt from being banned from the harem, or taken away, or sold. But Ren was not. Was Zanti manipulating Ren in an effort to get Ren tossed for good?
The two men came up to the surface, gasping. Zanti had his hands around Ren’s throat. Ren gripped his forearms, fingernails digging in. In the distance, men yelled but Ren could not determine if they were frightened voices, or excited and encouraging the fight. A louder voice came through the din, strained but deep. Cam’s voice. “Stop! Stop this at once! Zanti! Ren! Stop!”
The water frothed and lapped the sides of the pool in great waves, some swells arching over the tiles just enough to get the closest men wet.
Zanti was a slippery, feisty devil, surprisingly strong. Ren could feel his own throat closing. The hands at his neck clenched hard but they were both wet and luckily Zanti could not get enough purchase to go any further with his attempt to strangle Ren.
Ren bounced on the water’s surface, kicking up to keep them from both going under again. He flailed, hitting Zanti in the chest and face. Zanti’s grip gave way and his fingers slid down Ren’s chest, scratching over his still tender brand, making Ren livid.
It was simply too unlucky for him—or ironic, perhaps—that he’d just been feeling good, calm, and content to be part of this harem-family. Now this. It was so unfair!
Ren bobbed back in the water and Zanti smashed his palms hard on the surface, legs pumping, moving toward him.
Cam continued to yell. Men’s voices echoed words of disbelief. “He’s crazy!” “This won’t end well.” “Look at him go!”
Ren backed up more in the water, but Zanti was an unexpectedly fast swimmer. They met again, hands clashing, bodies wrestling and went under again, both coming up sputtering. Ren shouted between breaths. “You crazy fuck!”
He never bullied, or called others bad names. Not even when he was a kid. But right now, on this day, in this harem, he couldn’t help himself. You crazy fuck. He should not have said it. He felt bad. Zanti was a victim. This wasn’t his fault. But then Zanti shouldn’t be in the harem. It was Master’s fault for putting him with the rest of them.
Cam was still calling. “Zanti! Zanti!”
Suddenly there was more motion. White on white. Bodies. Splashes.
Ren could not comprehend any of it until he realized he was being held by another man dressed in a white shirt and white shorts. A groom. And Zanti, hissing and spitting and panting, was being held by another groom.
The grooms wrangled them both from the pool, all four of them soaked and dripping on the tiles. Zanti still fought, but Ren held himself back, no longer giving any fight to the groom who held him.
Ren looked about him and saw all the other men standing in a semi-circle, watching. Cam was crying. “This is wrong. So wrong.” His tablet lay at his feet, the glass shattered, puddles of water seeping around it, and Li Po was absently petting his hair.
Ren was still mystified. What had happened? Why had Zanti attacked him? He gazed about him. Everyone watched him. The groom still held his arms behind his back.
Calder stepped forward, cheeks flushed, eyes wide. “If you didn’t hear it, Master called you upstairs.”
“I know. Some of us hav
e been called.” Cam had re-stated the order when Ren had surfaced for all to hear.
“He called you and Zanti. Just you two. No one else,” Calder finished.
Him and Zanti. Alone. Well, yeah. That was just nuts.
Unbidden, an image of Master Locke came to him. If Locke could see him now, dripping and enraged, would he be disappointed? Why it mattered to Ren in that moment what Locke might think, Ren didn’t know. But just that thought, that image of Locke in his regal stance, with his powerful dark gaze made Ren calm down.
But before Ren could say anything, the groom still holding him spoke. “Come with me.”
The groom gave a tug on Ren’s arms, holding them tight by the wrists. The guy was slightly shorter than Ren, but strong. It didn’t matter. Ren wasn’t going to resist.
The groom shoved him toward the entrance behind the waterfall where the door to the room of masks stood open.
He heard shuffling behind him, and beneath the constant fall of water, bare feet hitting tile. A voice said, “Cooperate or you will be bound.”
Ren glanced over his shoulder to see Zanti in the grip of the second groom, the fiend half-heartedly trying to pull away.
Ren wondered if the groom might really tie Zanti’s hands and feet together and then carry him. He surely looked strong enough. But Zanti, still shrugging and tugging at the groom’s grip, complied enough to walk on his own two feet.
Past the threshold and into the room of masks they went. Ren thought they might stop there and get a scolding from Master through all the hidden speakers. But they kept going until they reached the porch, then down the steps and along the path that led to Niko’s house.
Ren’s skin prickled at the thought his first and only visit to that house. His brand itched, the supreme pain of it still fresh in his memory. Niko had talked about punishments for misbehavior. Whippings, even.
Was this where they were headed?
But certainly not for Zanti. Nothing so extreme for the boy who survived Mister X.
They walked along the flowered path, the green of the grass between the buildings and along the hillside so brilliant it hurt the eyes. Birds called. The sunlight was warm and yellow. Ren blinked at the glare.
As they walked up to the tiny porch of Niko’s house, Ren’s groom opened the door with a key. Niko was nowhere to be seen.
The grooms led Ren and a somewhat subdued Zanti through the front living area and down the hall to the large shower room. There they met two more white-clad grooms waiting with soaps and towels, the huge shower already turned on and steaming.
With a few sharp commands, the grooms ordered them both into the shower. Ren stayed as far away from Zanti as he could.
The grooms washed them all over with handfuls of liquid soap that smelled of deep summer and overgrown gardens. The enema tube was stuck into Ren first, and he nervously made his way to the toilet.
Zanti made a soft cry as he was similarly dealt with.
Ren stood by his groom drying off while Zanti suffered and glared.
When they were clean and dried, the grooms escorted them into the next room where Ren had gotten the brand. His muscles tensed. He felt his breathing quicken.
Inside the room was a long, black couch Ren had not seen on his first visit. His groom shoved him onto it at one end. Zanti’s groom pushed him to sit at the other end.
Another groom approached with a tray of two drinks. Ice water in wine glasses where the condensation was already beading. Ren took one.
When Zanti was offered his own glass, he shoved at the tray and turned his head, his wet dark hair falling into his eyes. His collar chimed with his fast breaths.
Ren was thirsty so he sipped at the cold water, feeling it go all the way down into his body.
The four grooms stood, arms crossed, watching them. Two were on Zanti’s side of the couch, two on Ren’s.
There was no sound in the room but their breathing, both men still huffing a little. Ren’s heart hammered, nerves on edge. Even though the shower had cleansed his body, he’d begun to sweat again.
Minutes passed and the guards said nothing, did nothing. They just watched them, their auras muddy with indifference.
Zanti, back stiff, hands clenched into fists, looked ready to pounce. Ren had his own hands clasped on his lap.
They waited.
Finally, footsteps sounded in the hallway.
Black bowtie, white shirt crisp and new, black slacks perfectly creased and shoes polished to a dark shine, Niko entered the room. The table with all of its implements—the branding iron and other things Ren could not recognize or define—had been pushed against one wall. But it was still there. Would Niko go to it and choose something among the collection to punish them?
Elegant as a prince, Niko walked to stand in front of the center of the couch, hands behind his back, and stood looking from Ren to Zanti. The grooms now flanked him like guards.
Niko said, “You do not have the power to decline. There will be no protests of Master’s orders through Cam or in any other manner.” He glanced at each of them in turn again.
Ren looked away from Niko and at his naked knees. The glass of cold water in his hand felt heavier and heavier until he thought he’d drop it.
“Master has called upon you two. You will go upstairs together. You will cooperate. You will not lay a hand on each other until or unless Master orders it. Do you understand?”
Ren’s hand shook a little and his glass of water sloshed over his thumb, the ice pinging. Did they not understand he had not started the fight?
He nodded once, looking up. Niko’s brows were narrowed. He looked quite powerful and severe. For a moment, he wondered if Niko was playing a role, if he was really Master masquerading as the butler-guy. But no, Niko’s inflections were off, the tone of this voice and accent all different. Niko had an aura of placid blues mixed with infusions of gold. That did not mean he wasn’t capable of telling lies, only that he appeared momentarily complacent while doing his job to bring two slaves into line.
The end of one of Ren’s braids, still damp, dripped onto his thigh. With his free hand he wiped the water away, while trying to see out the corner of his eye if Zanti might also agree to Niko’s demand.
Zanti’s posture never changed. His fists were jammed into his thighs. He faced away from Ren enough that Ren could see the knobs of his spine. For a moment, he remembered touching him, that hard body, that silken skin. Zanti had liked it because Ren could see the pathway of lights that even Zanti, who hated to be touched, exuded. He could see the areas where Zanti’s body secretly longed for at least a soothing caress. But it didn’t matter. Synesthesia aside, seeing or tasting lights and auras or not, this would not be easy. If Zanti wanted him, it might be different.
Niko moved to stand in front of Zanti. “Zanti, you will behave. You do not wish Master to place you elsewhere, do you?”
Zanti’s only response was to take a slow breath and part his lips to let it slowly out.
Niko went on. “If you disobey,” he turned to look at Ren, “either of you, the grooms will see to your immediate punishment.” He walked to the long table with all the tools and devices and picked up two long tubes, not unlike that which had branded Ren.
A heat of prickling adrenalin threatened Ren’s veins.
Niko handed the tubes to two of the grooms, who held them firmly at their sides as if they’d used them before and knew what to do.
“What are those?” Ren asked.
“They produce an electrical charge. If either of you is out of line, they are instructed to use them. You won’t like it, believe me,” Niko replied sternly.
Ren looked down again. He saw three raised welts on his chest from Zanti’s scratches. They didn’t hurt, nor had the skin been broken, but they were pink and a testament to the fact that they’d been fighting.
Surely Master would never torture Zanti with a device like that. Especially after rescuing him. But Zanti’s cooperation was not a given.
&
nbsp; “So,” Niko said. “Do we have a problem?”
“No, sir,” Ren replied. He put his glass to his lips and drank another sip of the cold water.
Zanti remained stiff and still. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths. Apparently, that was good enough for Niko.
“Very well, then. You are prepared. No make up. Let your hair dry naturally. Ren, your braids are a bit unkempt but Master has given no instruction that they be undone.”
Niko motioned for both men to rise. The grooms stood at attention. Two for Ren. Two for Zanti. Less like grooms, more like bodyguards. Or enforcers.
Ren quickly stood, but Zanti was slow, almost lazy in his obedience. His dark eyes flashed about the room and his mouth curled as if he’d just eaten something bitter.
The grooms escorted them down the long hall where shadows swept their feet and the air was very still. Ren thought he heard Niko, left behind in the branding room, chuckle. Or maybe it was the air ventilation system kicking on. He couldn’t be sure.
Chapter Nineteen
Upstairs
They went into the mansion by a different entrance, this time around the side of the house and toward a smaller back porch.
Ren knew this was intentional so they would not have to go through the harem atrium itself. Maybe Niko or Master thought Zanti would get worked up again? Whatever it was, Master wanted no more disruption, that much was obvious.
Two steps up led to a single black door that opened onto a black and white checkered floor and a wide hall. Small round lights dotted the ceiling. Several closed doors on the left made Ren speculate as to what was behind them.
They came to a staircase at the end of the hall. It was wide but curved upward. Its steps were carpeted in a thick, flowered pattern and cushioned Ren’s bare feet. The only sound made was the quiet footfalls of the four grooms and two slaves, and the faint jingle of Ren and Zanti’s slave collars.
The Slave Harem: A Kingdom of Slaves Book Page 16
