Chapter Six
Whisper
Marcus didn’t like to talk much. It was fine. He communicated with gestures and huffs, which was fine by me. If I didn’t have to respond, all the better.
Part of my struggle with mouthing words, or even whispering as my name suggested, was that I’d never learned to talk good in the first place. I could make the base consonants and knew mouth shapes to make, but that was it.
When we navigated the maze of halls to arrive at a port door that he pried open with a little shame in his expression, I marveled at the expansive room.
It was rather like a network of caves, carved into stone itself.
Raw stone beams lined the ceiling in places, supporting work that had been flamed over, stone melted like they’d used dragon fire to weld things stable.
Dirty laundry lay scattered about, a trash can tipped to the side with a rather shameful amount of tissues spilling free of it.
He scurried away to hide it and bag it up quickly, like I didn’t know what he’d used those tissues for.
It wasn’t shameful. Everyone did it. Hell, I’d let him do it in or on me if he wanted.
When he wanted. I saw the looks he gave me.
He had plans for my body, and I found myself not hating it. He’d be warm and I could shower after. I hoped he gave me money to go grocery shopping after, though.
He handed me a long plaid shirt that smelled like him, and I removed the burned remnants of the shirt I’d only recently been given.
I mouthed an apology that he shrugged off before tossing the shirt with his dirty tissues.
Like a new shirt was nothing. He sniffed me as he neared, and something inside me, my inner voice, the kitty I never would be, purred.
Offer your ass to him. Lift your tail. He’d never said that before, and I blinked up at Marcus, waiting for him to proposition, for him to touch me, take my pants off, or demand I do it. I’d need some petroleum jelly to take him, but I would heal fast if he didn’t.
His dark eyes met mine, and I stared, waiting for a command, an order, anything. Nothing came.
He shook his head and huffed as I tilted my head.
“Nothing. You’ll bathe every day, do you understand? You’ll wear fresh clothes every day. I’ll have new ones brought in.” He spoke, and I nodded along.
“You’ll change your bedding daily until I say so. I’ll show you where the laundry is.” A growl curled deep in the back of his throat, as if the orders came from his dragon.
I glanced about and gestured around the place.
“Free rein to do as you please.” He sniffed me once more. “Your job is to make the place look good.”
I could do that. I could clean really good.
It looked cluttered, but I could change that.
He had stuff to organize, places for things.
I nodded as he stalked off to bring out a strange rolled-up floor pad and a pile of blankets for me.
He added a few soft pillows and padded it all out by the fireplace, that roared with a sweltering fire that sank into my skin like heaven.
I approached it with my hands out and took it in, letting the searing heat sink into me.
The fire had a different energy to it, there.
It wasn’t like wood fire or coal. Not even charcoal or how pig shit burned.
That all had its own feel. This fire burned with a soul that made me want to crawl into it.
But I didn’t because that was weird. They were already weirded out when the baby sneezing didn’t burn me.
But I got to be a kitten sitter! Maybe. If they thought I could do good.
I’d sat kittens before when their moms were out at the bars earning some money.
With my bedroll made, I tucked my sack of belongings away, and he pointed me toward his bathroom. “When you’re up, bathroom’s over there.”
I added it to my mental to-do list and snuggled in for a night of sleep.
The warmth of the fire, the scent of safety and clean surrounded me, and despite the fact that I was somewhere completely foreign, I felt like I’d been rescued, in a fairy tale.
Cinderella, only I got to be a maid at someplace without no wicked stepsisters or horny alphas.
Maybe horny alphas. I’d have to wait and see. Marcus didn’t specify that’s what he needed me for, but he’d sure gotten angry when he caught Spencer giving it to me.
I closed my eyes, and sleep came so easily.
***
The next morning, I rose from bed and folded up my bedroll, tucking it away in the closet he’d pulled the things from.
I saw good in the dark, so I peered around and spied an open doorway, a faint snoozing coming from within.
Ever so carefully, I approached and closed the door, twisting the knob as I brought it together so it was silent.
I put my hands on my hips and surveyed the room.
A little dust, some laundry piled in corners.
The usual dirty glasses sitting by an armchair and stacked books out of place.
I strode into the bathroom and glanced around.
It seemed clean-ish, but not sparkling like the alpha’s wife liked.
I could make it sparkle with vinegar and an old rag, but the fact that he had cleaning products in the linen cupboard made me very happy.
I changed into the pants I’d been in the night before and took off my shirt. I didn’t have nothing to change into, but cleaning was dirty work, so I rolled up my pant legs, grabbed a bucket, sponges, and cleaner and got to work.
And because I had the shower running while the cleaner settled in, I took a moment to use the restroom. I had a feeling he wouldn’t mind too terribly, but some people were really finicky about people using their facilities. Especially fancy inside ones.
I scrubbed the shower, toilet, and sink. I wiped down the walls and put the damp rag over his broom from the kitchen and got higher up, into the ceiling corners and around, even around the fan vent. Things were so much easier when I had the right tools.
I couldn’t find his mop, but the damn things were useless in a bathroom anyway. I got on my hands and knees, scrubbing good around the bases of everything and even polished the shiny handles on things.
From there, I gathered up trash and dishes, swept and tidied, being careful not to move things from their place, but just straightened them until I knew where his belongings were kept.
He had lots of pretty things that were nice to look at, glass cases full of really pretty jewels.
Little trinkets decorated many shelves around, and I didn’t bother with the fancy-ass little duster he had.
Each item I pulled down and carefully brushed dust from, admiring the fancy patterns on little porcelain cups and doodads.
Vases and things I didn’t have names for.
His couch and chair were practically built with covers over them that I removed and stacked with the laundry pile that I added everything but the futon and pillow forms to.
It honestly only took a few hours and was easy work, but after, I had nothing else to do, so I moved to the kitchen.
He barely used it, so the most egregious offender in the room was the fridge full of things that’d expired far too long ago.
I disposed of anything I thought might make him sick, going after the shelves with a damp rag until a confused grunt startled me so hard, I jerked up and banged my head on the bottom of the freezer.
He darted forward and pulled me back, face full of frustration that made my heart skip a beat. I mouthed a silent apology to him, and he shook his head as if to silence me and lifted the hair on my head, staring at where I’d hit. “Not bleeding.”
I waved him off and gave him a thumbs-up. I’d had so much worse that a little bump was nothing, and I smiled despite the ache.
“Let’s get Father to see to this. It’s a nasty little bump.” Marcus tugged my hand and led me away, his sleep-deepened voice a siren’s beacon that I would follow anywhere. My hero and protector.
He yawned and blinked around, staring at the place. “You cleaned?”
I nodded and gestured toward the bathroom that he craned his neck to inspect. “Good grief, Whisper. Why?”
I made a question mark gesture with my finger and a thumbs-down. He muddled through my makeshift signs and shook his head. “You did a very good job. I just don’t know why you cleaned.”
I glanced around and pointed to him and then me, and he didn’t get it, but he did search around for my pen and pad, bringing it to me so I could scribble out. You said to make the place look good. It’s my job. And you told me where the bathroom was for when I woke up. I cleaned it first for you.
He stared at the paper then me and frowned.
I expected rage, a smack or something, but he only sighed and shook his head.
“You did a very good job. Thank you. I told you where the bathroom was so you could use it as you needed. And the looking-good thing. I was saying you only had to sit around and be cute.”
Me? Cute? The thought made me want to laugh, but he looked so serious. I pawed at him to push him back and shook my head.
“You are.” He leaned into my space and touched our noses together, inhaling deeply.
A rumble of something rose from his throat, and he leaned in to press his lips to mine in what took me an embarrassingly long time to realize was a kiss.
Nobody had ever kissed me before, and when I opened my mouth, his tongue lashed out, licking into my mouth with a hungry groan.
I froze in place, unsure of what to do, and dropped my pen and paper.
His hands circled my waist, sharp points pricking my back as his fingers pressed in ever so gently.
Claws? He had trouble containing his form in ways I’d seen before.
And in response to his kiss, the closeness of his bare chest to mine, the low hang of pajama pants mere inches away from exposing his stiffening cock, my cock twitched to life in my pants in a way it rarely ever did.
Sure, mornings were a little stiff at times, but I’d never been aroused like that.
My breath caught and body shuddered in a way that told me I needed to get off.
At least in the shed back home I had that privacy, but it was so rare.
Once he finished his kiss, he pulled back and slid his hands free of me. His nose twitched and he scowled, shaking his head. “Shower. I’ll have something fresh for you to wear, and I’ll have Father check your head. I may have been a bit too jumpy.”
I sniffed myself and withdrew. I couldn’t wash the smell off me, not of what I came out of.
I was so accustomed to it that the underlying odor of poverty and other males didn’t occur to me at first. I reached for the pen and paper on the ground and scribbled a quick note.
I scrubbed so hard and I could still smell them on me.
His face hardened. “Why did you let them do that?”
I stared at the floor for a moment before I wrote. If something isn’t cheap or easy, they steal it.
A dawning look of horror overcame him, and he took another step back. “That’s awful…”
But as long as I have food, I won’t have to charge for it anymore. When I offered him the pad again, his brow furrowed tight, and he shook his head.
When he opened his mouth to speak, his voice came out in a low growl. “We’re going shopping today after you spend some time with Aster.”
I wrote again. Nobody is going to ask me to do that, here?
Again, Marcus stared at what I wrote like something foul he’d stepped in, and I flinched when he snatched the page and crumpled it in his fist. Smoke curled around his fingers and ash rained down onto the floor I’d spent so long cleaning.
He leaned down and tilted my chin up again.
“Not a single person here would demand that of you. Your body is not for sale. And as pissed as I’d be to let it happen, even if you want to leave, you’re free to go. We don’t hurt people like that.”
I wrote again. If I use lube, it doesn’t hurt none. Thinking better, I glanced down. You might need some time to get used to.
A flush crept over Marcus’s cheeks, and he snatched that page, too. Instead of flame, he stuffed it in his mouth and chewed, grumbling as fire consumed his mouth, and he swallowed. “Shower. And nobody’s dick goes near you. Nobody sticks their dick in my treasure. You are part of my hoard. You are—”
He shook his head and huffed. “Go.”
And I did, because if I could get away with it, I was going to make myself feel good.