by Rene Folsom
Well, the joke’s on them.
I’d rather die than go back to camp.
I’m thankful for Langston’s support as we walk to the stables the next morning. Well, walk is a big overstatement for me. Hobble is more my speed this morning. I was given one day of rest. That’s it. But I’m no cry-baby. I want to get back on my feet, build up my strength, and continue my path to freedom. Thankfully, whenever my swollen feet hit a pebble or twig on the ground, the old man is right here to help me through the pain. It’s not like he wasn’t punished, too. He has his own bruises and wounds, most even visible beyond his clothing. But he’s still supporting me when I should be the one carrying him around on my shoulders for all he’s done for me.
“Thank you,” I whisper as we walk—more like limp—closer to the stables.
He makes a puffing sound with his puckered, wrinkled lips. “I need you back to work so you can help me. Don’t mistake my kindness for anything other than a selfish need for help.”
I smile, though I try to hide it. He’s an ornery old man, and he won’t take kindly to pity or thanks. I can’t help myself, though.
“Still,” I say while keeping my volume low. My words are only for us—not for the onlookers of House Kincaid. “I’m not sure how I would’ve survived yesterday without seeing your face.”
“Bull.” His harsh word surprises me until he continues in a raspy whisper. “You’re way stronger than most who come to this… this… prison. You’re not giving yourself enough credit. Don’t let House Kincaid eat you alive.”
I ponder his words as we open the gates and I limp over to the nearest stable, petting Trance’s nose, his green eyes boring into mine and reminding me he is Drake’s horse.
When Langston gets close enough for me to speak without being overhead, I ramble on. “It’s always encouraging to know another human being is thinking of you, of your well-being. Ever since my mom passed, I’ve been on my own. I’ve never had anyone care for me the way you did last night when you came to visit. Just knowing I’m in someone’s thoughts… it helps pass even the darkest days.”
Langston and I don’t look at each other. I don’t even try to make eye contact with him. If I do, I’ll break my cardinal rule of never crying in front of someone else. Showing emotion doesn’t help anyone, and it sure as hell won’t help me.
Instead of words, he places his feeble hand on my shoulder, squeezing it for a moment and lightly patting my thick sleeve.
“Is my boy ready to ride?” a masculine voice booms from the stable gate, making me jump and causing Langston to remove his hand from my shoulder with a startled flinch.
With every attempt I have in me, I try to acknowledge the voice with a slow turn of my head. I don’t need any of the brothers knowing Langston and I were talking, even if it’s innocent enough. They don’t like the help speaking on any personal terms.
When I finally dare a glance toward the Kincaid brother, I notice it’s Drake. It doesn’t take a genius to see I’m petting his baby boy—Trance. It also doesn’t take a genius to know I should stop and allow Drake to care for his own horse.
“Brother Drake,” Langston bellows from behind me. “So nice to see you this morning. Would you like to take Trance for a ride? I can saddle him up for you and get all his tack ready.” There’s a strange expression on Langston’s face. He seems surprised to see Drake during this time of day.
With his words echoing around in my brain, I stop stroking Trance’s snout and immediately take two steps back, my feet betraying me.
The cringe and feeble yelp I let out could probably be heard for miles. Before I know what’s happening, Drake is at my side, holding me up and staring down at me with his piercing green eyes.
“Shh,” he coos. “Don’t put any pressure on your feet right now. Just sit.”
I’m both captivated and freaked out by his words. He watched them do this to me, and now he’s going to act like he cares I’m in pain?
Chin up, I break our connection by averting my eyes, not allowing him to charm me the way he probably does other women. “I’m fine, thank you. Now please, let Langston and me help you get Trance ready for a ride.”
With all the strength I can possibly muster as pain shoots through every single nerve in my body, I break away from him and limp over to Langston, bowing my head and letting him know I’m ready for his instruction.
“Zhavia,” Drake blurts out with a quiet force. “We honestly didn’t know how bad it was going to be.”
That’s a piss-poor excuse. But I have to remind myself neither he nor his brothers care. This is some type of game for them. One I’m not interested in playing.
I still don’t react. Not visibly, anyway. Instead, I keep my head down, though inside, I feel like screaming at the bastard for standing on the sidelines while I was beaten. I want to rage at all the brothers for putting me in the situation that led to the square. It was all their doing, regardless of whether they signed the metaphorical paperwork to have my feet completely torn to shreds.
A large, warm hand grabs at my bicep, forcing me to turn around, and again causing pain as my feet struggle to keep balance.
“Ahh,” I yelp, my body not able to keep standing for one minute longer.
I fall, doubling over like a string, and crumple to the ground, the pain so intense it swallows me whole.
“Zhavia!” Langston and Drake exclaim in unison. They lunge for me, each one trying to keep my head from hitting the hard surfaces of wood that make up the stable gates.
Finally gaining my strength and balance, I push Drake away from me. Something behind him catches my eye, and I realize it’s Graham barreling his way through the barn’s entrance. What is it with these men? Why can’t they just leave me be?
Anger whistles through me like a hurricane. To reign in my fury would mean to be dead, because no human would just roll over and forgive these monsters for what they’ve done.
Despite my push at his chest, Drake steps toward me again, Graham flanking him like a shadow.
“Stop!” I yell while holding my hand up in their direction. I don’t have the muscle to stop them from coming near me, but they’d still be stupid to test me. I don’t dare flinch as I stare them down, daring them to come closer.
“You don’t under—”
“I said stop,” I demand, interrupting Graham and halting him mid-step. “I don’t need to hear a single word of your excuses. None of it matters to me. You all threw me to the wolves and stood by while I was consumed whole. There is absolutely nothing you can say to make that better. Nothing.”
Graham continues to speak, despite the overwhelming hatred he can tell I feel for him. “If you won’t listen to me, at least ride Tempie while I’m gone.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” I can’t hold back the laugh that leaks from my lips. “You do realize riding her is what got me in trouble with Greann to begin with, right? And you want to wish that hatred on me yet again?”
Drake is the one to pipe up this time. “You work in the stables. It comes as no surprise you’d condition the horses while we’re away.”
With my arms folded across my chest, I make my attitude obvious. “That worked so very well the last time I conditioned your horses. Considering the fact I’m no longer able to walk, I’d say pissing Greann off is a hard no for me. Figure out how to piss your girl off on your own time. I have too much else to worry about.”
Despite my feeble attempts to turn and walk away from these two enigmatic Kincaid brothers, my hobbling motions are thwarted by a set of strong arms sweeping me up. I don’t protest. There’s no point. He’s way too strong for me to fight.
“I can tend to her feet,” Langston interjects, his interruption earning him an arched look from Drake.
“You’re getting soft, old man. Just a few weeks ago, we couldn’t get you to look after anyone but the horses.”
Langston’s shoulders lift into a shrug. I can only assume he’s being amicable he doesn’t have to deal
with the brothers’ wrath. But how can he be so accommodating at a time like this? Not that long ago, he was on the receiving end of their judgment, and he’s just going to take it sitting down?
“She’s like a weed. She grows on you.” Langston sneaks a wink in my direction, and I almost smile back at him.
“We will see to her,” Graham insists as Drake carries me over to a bench and sits, forcing me into his lap.
My first instinct is to struggle, but the grip Drake has on my waist is too strong. He can tell I want to bolt. I don’t hide my disdain from them.
Regardless of my petulance, Graham sits on the opposite end and lifts my feet into his lap with care.
“We’re sorry about what happened,” Graham says while he begins to unlace my boots. I cringe at the tugging feeling. Since my attempts to hide my agony are impossible, I channel the pain into anger.
“Your apology means nothing to me because it should have never happened in the first place,” I hiss. I don’t dare look into their eyes—either one of them. I know just how captivating those eyes can be, and I am definitely not ready to forgive them.
“You’re right. You should’ve never been there. But Mother insisted.”
I should hold my tongue. I know this. Because the words that rattle through my brain will guarantee death. The verbal threats might not be there, but I’ve seen it happen. I know what can happen to mouthy slaves.
Not bothering to hold back, I snap, “I’m not going to be a part of your game. Whatever you boys are playing, leave me out of it. Go and be with Greann. I don’t want anything to do with any of you.”
“You don’t mean that,” Drake whispers, his voice raspy and masculine as it tickles the shell of my ear.
I do mean it, and they very well better start reading my emotions so I don’t have to keep repeating myself.
“We don’t have a choice anymore,” Graham adds. “You belong to us. I know you don’t understand what that means—”
“I understand fine. I’m your property. You own me.” Finally, I glare into Graham’s sparkling blue eyes. “People shouldn’t be treated like this—like a slave. I won’t be treated as such, and I damn well don’t belong to you. I belong to me.”
Drake chuckles, and I can feel his laughter against my back as his arms around my waist tighten.
“I bet if I were to pull this cap from your head, your hair will have more red in it, yes?”
He’s right. I won’t admit he’s right, but he is. It still doesn’t change the way I feel just because my hair isn’t agreeing with House Kincaid. Hell, I don’t agree with this godforsaken house.
“Seneca and I will be back. Ride the horses. No one will stop you. Graham will watch over you to ensure no harm comes your way while I’m gone. And when I get back, the six of us will sit down and discuss our situation.”
Graham finally pulls my boots off, but stops short when I jerk my feet from his grasp.
“We don’t have a situation. I’m the servant. You and your brothers are beastly lords. I think I know my place.”
This makes Graham laugh. “I can’t wait to kiss those words right off your snarky little lips.”
There’s no hiding my sharp intake of breath as what he says absorbs into my mind like water to a sponge.
He wants to kiss me.
14
I’m delusional. I must be hearing things.
“If she doesn’t stop talking, I might just do it now and shut her up,” Drake says as he feeds off Graham’s threat to kiss me.
Now I think they’re the neurotic ones… they’re delusional… not me. They must be off their rocker if they think it’s okay to kiss a servant.
A million and one thoughts cross through my mind as I contemplate ways to get out of this Kincaid sandwich I’m in, yet no words come to me before it happens.
And oh yes, it happens.
With my boots off and no way to run, Drake’s arms still cloaking me with warmth, Graham’s lips press to mine. It’s like a battle of fire against fire. I feel scalded by the contact, my insides igniting. My gut feels every inch of his touch, his adoration, all while his brother holds me hostage.
The feeling is euphoric and everything I never thought I’d feel with a man. The slight bite of his teeth against my lips draws a breathy sigh. I’m invested in the kiss, and extremely aware of Drake holding me. The dual sensation of both their touches is liquifying my insides. What the hell is wrong with me? Men have never been in my line of goals… yet now… now I feel like I can’t live without another breath of his.
Still, my subconscious makes me pull away, immediately glancing from side to side, hoping no one saw the forbidden kiss.
“No,” I whisper, his eyes still captivating me though my body wants to rebel.
“Yes,” Graham murmurs in response while Drake holds me even tighter than before. Or maybe it just feels tighter because I’m trying to escape.
Escape.
Yes. Escape has been my plan all along.
And these brothers might just be my ticket out.
Looking directly into his eyes, green to blue, I sigh, “Yes,” the s-sound hissing from my lips while my eyes flutter shut. I’d be lying to myself if I said his kiss doesn’t feel good, because it does. But it isn’t enough. The plan has always been to leave. To escape.
But despite the warmth that coats my lips once more, my mind still screams at me—this is your only way out. Even as my body and soul absorb every inch of the brothers, I’d be a fool not to take advantage of their misguided attraction to me.
Then again, I’m clearly a fool for kissing another Kincaid.
Oh man, his lips taste good.
Considering I come from a camp that’s mostly filled with women, the occasional guard coming onto the property to get a taste of the female population, to have a man kiss me like this is both forbidden and completely overwhelming to my senses.
I want more. My body craves more. My emotions are filled with a turmoil I’d only ever dreamed of in my lifetime. Yet my mind… my stupid, fickle mind… keeps repeating that this is my only way to escape and survive.
Use the brothers and get the fuck out of Dodge.
Finally, Graham pulls away, his expression filled with lust and comfort, leaving my red, swollen lips as a reminder of his touch.
“More,” I whisper, my eyes involuntarily closing all while attempting to focus on the beautiful blue eyes staring back at me. I know it’s wrong to beg for something so forbidden, but I allow my instincts to take over for just this once in the hopes I can feel his lips on mine once more—and that it will gain his trust.
A shy chuckle escapes Graham’s lips, while a manly laugh rumbles from Drake behind me. “All in due time, Zhavia,” Graham says with a small peck to the tip of my nose. He doesn’t entertain my plea. Instead, he turns to walk away.
I feel an overwhelming need to cry out to him, to keep him from leaving me here in the stables. But then, as I feel Drake lift me off his lap, his massive form standing before setting me back down on the bench, I realize I’m losing both of them all in a single breath.
What was once supposed to be a group of five escape routes suddenly becomes a need for survival.
Drake laughs once more before turning to me and placing a kiss on my forehead. “Be good, little petal.”
And again, my breath is taken from me for a second time in a matter of minutes. Here I sit, my ass itchy from a stack of hay and my feet throbbing with the removal of my boots, and all I want is for those two assholes to come back.
Confusion fills me as they disappear around the barn’s massive doors. They’re no longer in sight, and I am left to wonder what the fuck just happened.
My feet have their own heartbeats and my boots barely fit, yet I’m bound and determined to get the hell away from this place.
…or die trying.
15
I’ve never felt so emotionally overwhelmed as I did when Drake and Graham left me sitting on a bale of hay.
For the rest of the day, Langston makes me sit and watch as he cares for the horses.
“You need to watch yourself, Zhavia,” Langston warns. “Understand?”
I don’t respond to his remark. I don’t need to, nor am I able to. My mind is just too consumed by the Kincaids.
Instead of acknowledging Langston’s comment, I change the subject and ask about the gardens. I need to think of something good—something solid. And the gardens seem like a part of this world I live in that will never change. It also brings up a topic I’ve been thinking about ever since I step foot beyond the gates, my experiences there plaguing my mind day and night.
“Hey Langston? Do you happen to know what hides in the gardens?” I know what’s there. I know what I saw. But I still need to hear it from someone else or risk the chance of going insane.
The old man I have come to care about like a father turns to me with controlling eyes. He almost has me startled as he leans close to my face and repeats his words from before. “You need to watch yourself.” He pinches my arm, making me yelp. “Listen closely, child. You need to watch yourself.”
“Oww! What was that for?” I rub my arm. “You didn’t have to hurt me.”
“You weren’t listening to me!” he barks with a harsh, yet quiet, murmur. “You stay away from them boys, you hear? They are nothing but trouble. Madame Kincaid will have you killed if that spoiled ass brat Greann doesn’t do it first.”
Despite the fact he’s too scared to speak above a whisper, I still know he’s right.
“I know, Langston. Trust me, I know. But they just won’t leave me alone, and I’m not quite sure what to do.”
I honestly don’t know who else to tell, so I confide in the only friend I have made since being at the House Kincaid.
I tell him about my hair. About the first kiss. I also tell him what the brothers think I am in relation to them. I dump it all onto him. When I’m done, he stays silent, his brain clearly in overload and his lips unable to form a response to my mess. His brows are drawn together, and he spears me with his eyes, his stare intense and serious.
