“I'm Ria Stevenson.” I hesitate a moment. “Though for a long time, I've been referred to as Meat.” You're my bag of meat. My bones to chew. Kallen's words still linger.
“Ria,” the dragon says softly, tasting the name. He raises one eyebrow. “When I saw you behind the window, you looked at me with such determination. You're no damsel in distress. It's powerful.” He now starts to prowl around me, inspecting me in a more efficient manner. “Though there's a hardness to your face. A darkness. You were not treated well, were you?”
“No,” I say, licking my lips nervously. “Not at all. But I imagine it's a general shifter thing.”
He pauses at the vehemence in my statement. “Not all shifters are so twisted. I cannot deny we take. It's a necessity for us. We can't produce women, and it's impossible to reach our home by conventional means. But we don't abuse them. Or if we do, it's considered a crime. You are the bearers of children, the softness to our hardness.” Now I feel his hand brush my dark hair, and I shiver against my will. “And you deserve more than scraps, and to be locked up in a room without reprieve.”
His words stir hope in me, despite my determination to not be moved. However, I remain as impassive as I can on the outside.
“I doubt you just picked me out of a sense of generosity, though.”
He smiles then, a slow, calm one. “I see experience in your eyes. You'll find out soon enough what I plan to use that experience for.”
There's an ominous implication behind his words. I simply nod, knowing that if I want to keep my opportunity for escape open, it might be easier if I can appeal to my captor in some form. He keeps those smoldering eyes on mine for a lingering moment, before asking me to follow him. I do, though I wonder what I'm letting myself into. What I've swapped one cage for. The prince remains rather quiet as we walk along an opulent corridor, with picture frames depicting mighty dragons roaring or breathing fire, and a red carpet sprawled below, the same shade as his scales in dragon form. My bare feet enjoy the texture of the rug, and everything appears to be lit by electricity, though I wonder where they get the source from.
“You'll be allowed the run of the place,” Kostya says then, indicating the entire palace. A women bows to him as he passes. She's in servant robes, but I don't catch any strain in her expression. It reminds me a little of the types of servants you'd get in Downton Abbey, the ones who are unspeakably proud of their positions, and of the lords they serve. It seems the dragons here of Balteria hold themselves to a very different standard than the savages of the mountains. The wolf clans like those who captured me or the lonely misers who get away with despicable acts, knowing that no one will find their bodies in the wilderness.
“There's actually two sets of royal families here,” Kostya then says, though I've not asked for any information on the subject. “Both of them huge, and both with claims to the throne. There's about four princes on each side. I'm only third in line to the throne, so it allows me some freedoms to pursue... other interests. Though I must be careful to not lose face in front of the other royal family. They like to sniff for weakness, you see.”
He stops at a door, takes a key out of his pocket, turning it in the lock. For a moment, I stare, realizing something interesting. The dragons take their clothes with them when they shapeshift. So it's more than just a transformation of their bodies. It's something magical. Something that allows them to carry additional materials along for the ride.
Inside his rooms, I'm surprised at what I see. I expected something big and grand, but instead, I'm presented with something simple but clean. A main room, with two huge dark brown leather sofas. A table that's scattered with board games, most which I've never heard of, aside from Monopoly. What's impressive is the mini golf course he's got completely covering one side of the huge room, with the eighteen different goals all spread along the room. He could have had anything in this place, and instead, he chooses a mini golf course. I admire the decorative slant of the goals, from sloped and bumpy tracks to fake mountains and twisting bends to make scoring that much harder, and then I follow the prince through to the bathroom, which is a fully integrated shower that's large enough for about six people to squeeze in.
I gape at the monster shower and spa like design of the room. There's a small jacuzzi pool, and as I sniff the air, getting that distinctive heated water smell, I can tell the water is warm. There's even a small sauna room to the right of the spa, with a soft light glowing, and a brazier full of coals, and an empty bucket. The room itself is rather small, and could only fit I think four people in, all of them lying on the two levels, on either side of the corner.
I can't help it. I'm thoroughly impressed, and I'm hoping right now that I'll be able to use this shit.
I have noticed there's no T.V, no computer, no kind of electrical device that I could possibly use to try and contact home, but I suspected as much when I first came here, anyway. Shifters aren't fans of technology. Or, at least, technology in reach of the women they abduct, since it's too easy to communicate with people all across the world.
“You will clean yourself up here,” Kostya says, his voice quiet but full of authority. “And you will have free access to come here as much as you want. I'll also arrange for clothes for you, so you can go outside and explore the markets. Needless to say, you'll have a bad time if you try to escape, since it's physically impossible for a human to descend.”
“Noted,” I say wryly, though I'm glad of the opportunity for freedom. To walk around, and to use the facilities to my pleasure. Next to the spa room is a small room with a sink and toilet, and beyond that, interconnected to this, is three separate bed chambers. He shows me to mine first.
“It's simple, but I imagine it's better than your previous living arrangements,” Kostya said, his lips curling up again in that sardonic smile of his. In my room, there's a wardrobe and dressing table with a mirror, a study desk with paper and pen, a sink, which I think is interesting, and a ordinary double bed with white sheets.
It's still far, far better than my previous home. So he has that right.
“I'll show you my room,” he says, “but only after you've cleaned yourself up and had something to eat and drink.”
No sooner than he mentions food than my stomach reminds me that it's hungry with a growl.
He appears to not notice the sound. “I'll have a servant take your measurements, and another to bring you food. Towels are in the cupboard here. And please, enjoy.”
I smile briefly at Kostya, probably the first I've given in a long while. A genuine one, I mean. Not a cruel one.
I'm already eyeing the spa, though I know I should wash myself first before dipping into it. Kostya leaves me, closing the doors, and I grab a towel and divebomb the shower, wanting to experience my first true wash in five years, and not from a wet rag in a sink. I peel off my clothes, step into the walk-in shower, close the sliding doors and wait for the water to turn hot before I allow it to drench over me. It's such a glorious feeling that I close my eyes and sigh, the powerful stream of water pushing away all the dirt. There isn't any shampoo, but there's a bar of soap that has a layer of dust on it, so I use that instead, rinsing off the dust and just rubbing the bar all along my body. Examining myself, I see the hair that's accumulated in my nether regions, legs and armpits. It's already getting long, and I think to ask the servants when they come in if I can have a razor, because it would be nice to feel smooth skin under my hands again.
Kallen really didn't give a shit about his women pampering themselves. He only wanted them for what was between their legs and the screams they made. However, I reached a fond spot in his black heart, because I resisted and pushed back.
I wonder if he's dead, now. And what happened to that poor girl strapped to his back.
Maybe she was another school trip like me, or someone who lived in the country, before her theft. Maybe she was just walking home after a long day, and got scooped up by human traffickers. A brief stab of rage emanates through me. Humans
take part in the trafficking just as actively as shifters. They do it all for a quick buck, desensitized to the suffering inflicted under their hands.
I really can't just pin everything on shifters. We have kidnappers, rapists and serial killers. We manage to produce beasts in our societies. We're the kind of people who would go into someone's country in war, slaughter them, and still think we're righteous and good for killing other people. No one seems to think they're guilty. Not even the murderers, who give themselves flimsy justifications to do what they do.
The anger boils in my heart as the water washes away the dirt. I used to ignore those kind of things. Those sufferings. Now I always feel like I'm fixated on nothing but the worst, seeing all the filth that's spat up in front of me, when all I really want is to go back to who I was and remember that I thought a lot of goodness could be found in the world.
But I can't. I have the darkness inside me now, and she's not going away. She's my protector, but she's also damming me. It's an odd conflict. If God did exist, I'm not going to those pearly gates. Not after what I've thought and done. Not after what I've accepted into my soul. There's nothing but a blizzard here now, and a shadow that taints all of my thoughts. I can't rewind the clock, no matter how badly I might wish it.
It doesn't mean I've given up on the idea of returning home, though. For now, I focus on the best thing that's happened to me in ages. I end the shower when it becomes difficult to breathe, due to the steam build up inside the unit, and when I step out, blinking, my hair wet, I see two servants waiting outside for me. Both are women, and both are rather unbothered by my appearance.
“I take it one of you is to help with clothes and the other with food?”
In response, the one with long blonde hair whips out a tape measurer. “Indeed.”
“Let's actually let her dry off first,” the other one scolds, but the woman laughs.
“Are you kidding? She's gonna jump straight into the spa.”
“You're welcome to join,” I say, not quite sure if she's jealous or just loud.
“It's ok. I have one of my own,” the blonde replies. “Right, stand still and straight, please, and arms out... there's a good lass.”
“Kostya picked an interesting one this time,” the dark haired woman muses, her eyebrows crinkling as she examines me with green eyes. “He mentioned he wanted to get a more live-in person. I thought he'd go for the usual. Blonde or red head, some rare green shade of eye. But you... you don't fit into that at all.” Without any sense of privacy whatsoever, the dark haired woman grabs my hair and examines the thick strands, before her eyes curl down and up my body. I'm not embarrassed, though. I have power in my body, and I know how to use it.
The blonde haired one notes this. “Ah. Look at the steel in this one. She's pretty, Kalina. Don't be a bitch.”
“Oh, I know she's pretty. It's just not the usual type I see the princes go for,” Kalina replies. “Lucille, you done measuring?”
“Nope.” Lucille now whips the measurer around my modestly sized breasts. “You're not nervous at all about this, are you? Shame. We were hoping to have you blushing red as a beetroot.”
“After everything that's been done to me, ladies, there's very little that surprises me anymore. If anything, it's nice to be scrutinized like this by you two. Neither of you are mad or suicidal, so that's something.”
“Huh,” Kalina says, one eyebrow now jumping. “You know, I think I understand why he went for you, after all.”
“Actually, I don't think he had time to choose me,” I disagree. “I basically banged on the window of the last place I was imprisoned at, then let him take me away.”
“Wait,” Lucille says, now measuring the length of my body. “You let him take you?”
“Yup. Believe me. He looked like a better choice than my last master. I was captured by wolves before. Straight out of my hotel room.”
“Fuck them,” Lucille hisses. “Predatory animals like them are the worst.”
“I was taken on the way back home,” Kalina says, giving up on the pretence that she's supposed to be bringing me food. “Those bastards had some fun with me first before trying to auction me. Kostya and one of his brothers were there at the time. His brother chose some stunning red head. Kostya saw me with murder in my eyes, and he decided he liked that and bought me. The problem with me is that I don't have family to go back to.” Kalina says this without self-pity, without expecting it. “So I figured in the end it'd be easier to learn how to adapt to life in Balteria.” I continue listening to her, and I hear a faint accent in her words. She speaks incredibly fluent English, but I still find myself wondering what her mother tongue is. I don't ask, though. “Kostya mostly leaves me alone, aside from some obligatory orders. When his brothers ask why he doesn't use me sexually, he replies it's because I'm not ready for it.”
I see something tremble in her voice for the first time, despite the iron she keeps there. Listening to her, I feel like I've gained more insight to Kostya. I don't know if he's a good person, since just because you feel like helping someone on a whim, doesn't mean that you're therefore a nice person.
After all, Hitler treated his dogs very good. And look what kind of nice person he was.
“I'm Nikolev's servant,” Lucille explains then, filling in the silence of Kalina's words. “He's the oldest brother, and he has a harem of women. When we're not being his personal harem, we just work around the palace. He really likes his blondes. He's nice enough so that we don't want to murder him in his sleep, but sometimes we sit around plotting how to escape.”
I laugh. “So the women meet often, here?”
“All the time,” Kalina says, swallowing the silence lodged in her throat. “We even get invited to board game sessions here with Kostya and some of the nobles. The servant's quarters has a communual spa room. I'm not complaining. Anyway. I digress. Food. Your options are beef sirloin steak with fries and vegetables, wild mushroom risotto, or Moussaka. Your choice.”
Uh.” I shrug. “Not steak. Don't care which of the other two you bring.”
“Excellent,” Kalina says, even as Lucille snaps the measurer shut, and grins.
“I have your measurement as well. My advice, soak yourself for about an hour in the spa. You'll have your clothes then.”
“Sure,” I say. Hearing them talk so normally, without fear or shame in their voices makes me relieved in a way. It's been so long since I've last heard such ordinary conversation. Normal voices. Not whispers or trembling, like mice being stalked by a cat. They're women like me, who were captured and simply learned to deal with their new situation as best as able. It's the only logical thing they can do, and I admire them for it.
As they leave, I get the impression I'll be seeing more of Lucille and Kalina. Lucille, with her vibrant blonde hair, her strong, Eurasian features. Kalina with her olive skin, her chocolate eyes, short hair and rounded face.
I wonder what I'll be to Kostya. I get the impression he tends to use me as more than just a servant. I'm assuming I'll be used for a sexual purpose, and I'm already mentally preparing myself for it – though with his features, and that languid attitude of his, it might not be such an unpleasant experience. He was looking for “steel” – whatever that means.
I wonder if he saw the darkness inside me and liked it. I doubt it, because my darkness is not something to be loved. It's something to be hated, because it's the corrupt part of me that should never have existed.
I slip into the spa, sighing at the warmth that envelops me. I prod on the jacuzzi and rest my back against the jet stream, feeling it pound my muscles into shape, and I stretch in bliss.
What a difference. To be taken from a crusty werewolf's prison to a much bigger, glamorous prison, with enough distractions and people to talk to for us to be able to stave off madness. I keep wondering what Kostya expects of me, even as my hair fans out like seaweed, and I curl my toes and rest my hands just on the water, creating the surface tension effect. I watch my palms plop o
n and off the surface.
He's fucking handsome, honestly. The kind of man that if you didn't know he was a shifter, to be playing aristocratic roles in films and series. Or maybe some super impressive villain, because he has that faint villain's accent, something suitably exotic enough to not be American, but distinguishable enough so that you can't quite place it, except it sounds high class and confident.
By the time I finish off my spa, and have sweated my stress out in the sauna, Lucille and Kalina have returned with clothes and food for me. I thank them and they depart, clearly busy with something else. Lucille's given me about five sets of clothes and two pairs of shoes, ranging from fur robes to casual indoors wear and some night clothes. I have mushroom risotto to chew through, and I enjoy it, slurping down water before dressing myself up in a set of dark brown fur robes. It feels good to be able to wear something fresh and new. The fur tickles my skin.
When Kostya comes for me shortly afterwards, I'm ready. My darkness waits to be accessed, so I can cope with whatever is inflicted upon me, pleasant or atrocity.
Kostya admires me for a moment, approving of my appearance, less grime caked than before.
I almost feel beautiful again, now my hair is brushed, and my skin soft and infused with a strawberry aroma from the soap.
He invites me into his main chamber, which is as minimalistic as mine. There's a queen sized bed, red drapes upon the bed, a plush woolskin carpet, and a small table that has several drinks scattered upon it.
What draws my attention, however, is the semi-naked man that's in the chamber with us as well, and he's clamped by manacles to the wall. The man has bleach blonde hair over a squarish, solid face, and he's what I might have called swole once upon a time – big and naturally decked out with muscles. However, for such a muscular guy, with eyes a pale green. He's in a rather compromising position.
“Ria, meet Tannic. He's a man I have a rather long history with. And he's part of the special task I plan to assign to you.”
Sold To The Dragon Princes: The Novel Page 55
