36. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
L yra
This has been a difficult day for both Master and me. His face is so scary and unusual, it’s hard for me to read his expression, but when I told him that sandwich was the first food I’ve eaten other than pellets, clouds of emotions passed over his features.
He ordered a lot of things off the menu for dinner and seemed genuinely interested in whether I liked each dish.
He’s commanded me to call him Vartan, but I’ve avoided calling him anything at all. In my head, I call him Master. It’s restored order to my thoughts.
He took a shower, emerged wearing a loincloth, slid into bed, and is reading his tablet. I haven’t left my perch on the chair in the corner where we had our talk earlier. I don’t know what to do with myself if I’m not at my Master’s side or in his lap.
“Want to come to bed, Lyra?”
My lids slam closed and my body freezes. Master and Mistress didn’t sleep in the same room. Mistress frequently said Master’s man-part didn’t work. But I’ve watched enough vids to know what can happen when a male and female go to bed together. Maybe if I don’t say anything, my new Master will forget I’m here.
“Lyra? Are you tired? You need to answer me. Do you want to come to bed?”“No,” I say it clear and hard. It’s the most forceful thing I’ve said in my entire life.
“I won’t touch you. I will never hurt you or touch you in a way you don’t like. It’s time for bed.”
People don’t always say what they mean, so I still don’t believe Master. But I’m to follow his directions, so I get ready for bed. I pull off my clothes and try to fold them neatly, like they were in the store.
“Put on the nightgown I bought you.”
I follow his directions, albeit reluctantly, then lie on the floor at the foot of the bed, just as Master liked when he didn’t want me in his bed.
“Lyra,” his voice has the tone I’ve come to recognize as irritated. “You need to sleep in the bed.”
I ease onto the foot of the bed and snuggle at Master’s feet as my old master sometimes had me do.
“Is this how you slept with your master in the past?” he asks.
Good, he sounds less irritated. I nod, then remember he wants me to speak. “Yes.”
“Things are different now. You need to get under the covers.”
Okay. Got it. Clear directions I can follow. After crawling under the covers and trying to get comfortable at the foot of the bed next to his feet, I can tell he’s annoyed when he says, “Put your head on the pillow.”
I’m not certain if he wants me at his side like my old master sometimes did, or far away. Finally, I place my head precisely in the middle of the pillow and lie on my back so I’m neither facing toward him nor away from him. I lie like this for a long time.
At first, all I can think about is whether he’s going to touch me in a bad way, like the vids Mistress used to watch after Master fell asleep in his chair in the evening. Then my new Master falls asleep, and the heavy, slow rise and fall of his breath allows me to relax.
When I’m certain he’s fast asleep, I turn on my side and inspect him. I’m on the side with the long scar on his cheek. I’ve seen other scars all over his body. He said he was a slave; he must have been treated harshly.
The events of the day fly through my mind, whirling so fast it’s like watching a vid. When my thoughts slow down, I try to understand them. Nothing makes sense. It’s like everything I’ve ever believed has been yanked from me and I have to start building my world anew.
Master Vartan acts as if I should just adapt to wearing clothes and eating food and making decisions like I was born doing it. Why doesn’t he understand none of it feels normal to me? Finally, I ask myself what would feel normal right now.
The most comfortable I ever feel is when I’m tucked against Master’s side, his body heat seeping into me, his hand stroking my skin or hair. Since Master isn’t here, the best I can do is scoot next to Master Vartan and lie against him.
I lay my head on his chest and my hand on his abdomen and listen to him breathe. When I still can’t fall asleep, I realize it’s because I’m uncomfortable with all these clothes on. After pulling them off and slipping them under my pillow, I get back into that comforting position and within moments I fall asleep.
Vartan
By Freyd’s balls, what the drack ? As I swim up from sleep, it takes a moment to realize the warm female by my side is little Lyra.
Although I didn’t immediately realize there’s a naked female practically trying to crawl under my skin, my cock recognized it right away. It has no conscience, no thought, no care. It feels naked female flesh and stands at the ready to perform.
A thousand thoughts fly through my mind. First and foremost is the burning question of why I bought her in the first place. Was it to save her because she’s human? Was it out of selflessness? Or was it because she’s the prettiest female I’ve ever seen?
I saw her unblemished pink skin from far back in the auditorium where I was sitting. How does one reach the age of nineteen without a scratch or a scar? It’s unnatural. Maybe it was her hair that beckoned to me. It glistened under the stage’s harsh lights. There’s something about the way it hung to the crack in her lovely ass that awakened every carnal thought and impulse inside me.
Look at her. Arched brows, pert nose, pink bow-shaped lips. How can one female possess such perfection? Her little hand is splayed on my chest, but it’s not her hand that captures my attention, it’s the breast that’s lying on my flesh, its nipple teasing my skin. I couldn’t be more aware of it if it were a hot poker instead of a pretty brown nipple.
When my attention wanders lower, I have to stifle my urge to leap from the bed. Her leg is bent, her thigh lies across mine, the hair of her mound tickling my skin. Did I buy her only so she could torture me?
She sighs lightly in her sleep. I don’t think she’s faking. She’s truly asleep. Is she so na?ve she doesn’t know what a naked female sprawled across a male will cause?
Her eyes pop open and her gaze flies to my face. Her pink lips part as if she wants to ask a question, but she closes her mouth just as quickly.
“Say it,” I order. I want to know what’s on her mind.
“Am I in trouble?”
I sigh. I was a slave for thirteen annums . I know what it’s like to worry about punishments, to fear a harsh master. I circle my arm around her, pressing her closer. “We’ll work things out together, Lyra. You won’t get in trouble anymore. You’re free.”
She tilts her head to look at me and the corners of her mouth lift in the tiniest smile. Her obvious relief transfers to me.
“Go back to sleep. You’re safe,” I tell her even as I wonder why I don’t ask her to get dressed. She doesn’t roll away from me; in fact, she snuggles closer. Was this something she did with her previous master? Was she his pet or his sex toy? Maybe both.
She falls easily to sleep. It takes me far longer to convince my cock he’s to get no relief tonight.
Lyra
Master Vartan has been moody this morning, so I’m trying to be extra good. I wondered if it was because I took off the clothes he bought for me, so I put those on as soon as I got out of bed. When he asked me what I wanted for breakfast, I didn’t hesitate to request the anwar sedsi I tried last night.
I found a brush at the bottom of the bag of clothes he bought me. I don’t know when he purchased it during our shopping trip, but it makes me happy that he cared enough to get it for me.
As soon as he finishes his last bite of breakfast, I kneel at his side, hand him the brush, and ask him to brush my hair. For some reason, he groans, but takes the brush and uses it. Since he has no hair, he has no idea how to brush properly. He starts at my scalp and bullies his way through a day’s worth of tangles. I try not to make a peep, but after one particularly fierce tug, I let out a sharp yelp.
“This hurts?”
I nod my head, then remember to talk. “Yes.”
“Teach me how.”
I pull a lock of hair over my shoulder and show him how to start at the ends, then work his way up. He catches on quickly, so after he takes the brush back, his technique is perfect.
When my old master brushed my hair, it was the highlight of my day. It was his way of expressing affection to his pet, and I was permitted to enjoy it. It seems to be the same for Master Vartan because he takes his time, making sure to get every strand. It seems completely natural for me to put my head on his thigh and allow myself to relax into his gentle touch.
“There you go,” he says, his voice clipped as if he’s angry again. I still fear him and don’t understand him, but he hasn’t hurt me yet and keeps telling me I’m safe with him. He’s as confusing as every other thing in my life right now.
“We’re going to be tourists today,” he tells me later when he emerges from the refresher fully dressed in black leather jacket, pants, and boots. If his face wasn’t fierce enough, he certainly looks terrifying now that he’s wearing this outfit. If I saw him in public, I’d want to run to the other side of the street.
“I’ve rented a hover for the day. I’ve never seen this planet. I thought we could explore.”
I nod, then say, “Okay.”
There’s a bright red hover waiting outside the hotel. Master Vartan conducts a transaction, then helps me inside.
“I haven’t piloted one of these in a long time. Belt in, but don’t worry. It will all come back to me.”
I remember how the belt worked from yesterday and we take off within moments. The hover rises, then takes a harsh dip that makes my tummy swoop. Finally, Master Vartan seems to remember how to command it, because we’re speeding at a good clip through the city.
“What planet are we on?” I ask. I sure was hungry yesterday, maybe I was transported across the galaxy. I wonder if we’re even on Hyperion, where I grew up.
“Hyperion, the city of Dranaga.”
I say nothing, just gaze out the window, amazed to observe a world I grew up on, yet never saw before.
“It’s not easy to trust when you’ve been a slave. Especially since you were born into slavery, but I’d like you to talk to me today. Think you can do that?”
Yesterday I was desperate for him to just tell me what he wanted from me. Now, I wish I hadn’t. I’m not used to speaking. But all I have to do is remember he’s my new Master, even though he denies it, to decide I have to comply with his request.
“Yes.”
“You seem to miss your old life. If I could give you back to your previous owner, would you like me to do that?”
I feel a pang of longing deep in my belly, wishing I could go back to the way it was. “No, it wouldn’t be the same. My old master died. His wife never liked me.”
“I can see why.”
His words pierce me so deeply hot tears prick the back of my eyes.
“Do I displease you so much?” I whisper, my fingers twining in my lap.
“No, Lyra.” He grabs my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I meant I can see why a female wouldn’t like you.”
“Why wouldn’t she like me? I tried so hard to do exactly as she asked, but I could never please her.”
“It’s not obvious?” He spears me with a penetrating look, then returns his attention to his nav screen.
I shake my head, then remember to say, “No.”
“You had a male master and he was kind to you. He was the one who used to brush your hair, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Any mate would be jealous.”
I laugh at his absurd statement. “That’s ridiculous.” As soon as I realize what I just said, I flinch, awaiting an angry hand. When punishment doesn’t come, I add, “Sorry, Sir, but jealous? They were mated for decades.”
“Right. Mated for decades and then he buys a beautiful pet. It’s no wonder she didn’t like you.”
I don’t argue with him, but he can’t be right, can he?
“Were you with them for long?”
“I don’t know much about my mother. I was placed in a shelter and sold as a pet when I was young. I was with Master and Mistress as far back as I can remember. I have a few vague memories of the shelter, but nothing specific.”
“Do you remember anything about your mother?”
I shake my head, not wanting to speak.
He busies himself with navigating, and the hover turns silent. I stopped wondering about my mother long ago, it just brought me sadness. Instead, I think about Vartan. A quiet voice in the back of my head catches my attention and says, he just called you beautiful.
“Is that why you bought me?” I blurt. “Because you like the way I look?” It’s preposterous. Certainly he can’t find a pet attractive, but I had to ask.
“I went to that auction to buy gladiators and set them free, but there were none for sale. I was about to leave when you came up for bid. The human females I live with would have been displeased, maybe even furious, if I hadn’t tried to save one of their kind.”
“The auctioneer called me human yesterday. What does that mean?”
“You’re from a planet called Earth. Several human females travel with me. When they come back for me, you’ll be welcomed aboard our ship. They’ll teach you all about your planet and your people.”
“Will you make me go back there? To Earth?” Fear spikes up my spine.
“You can’t go back. The other humans wouldn’t understand where you’ve been your whole life. They wouldn’t accept you.”
“Good. I’d rather stay with someone I know.” That popped out of my mouth before I gave it much thought, but it’s true. I know no one in the galaxy. No one but Master Vartan and my old mistress. I’d rather be with Vartan than her.
As the morning unfolds, I find myself talking more easily. I don’t offer any thoughts or opinions, but I answer questions when asked.
Master Vartan takes me to an outdoor bazaar where there are so many people of different species it makes my head spin. The sounds are loud and there’s so much movement I put my hand under the bottom of his jacket and grip his belt tightly so we can’t be separated.
One male who looks like a reptile strides up to us, blocks my way, and offers Master Vartan five hundred credits for me.
“No! Move out of our way!” he commands.
It surprises me that Master doesn’t take him up on his offer. I can’t do math, but I know five hundred is more than one hundred seventy.
“Eight hundred,” the male offers.
“Move!” Master shouts loud enough the other male steps away mumbling loudly.
Maybe someday I’ll have the courage to ask him why he didn’t sell me. He could use those credits to buy gladiators which is what he said he wanted to do.
Between all the people and the noise and the fact that I’m wearing clothes when I shouldn’t be, I’m so frightened it feels like my insides are quaking. I argue with myself for a long time, but finally screw up my courage and yank on Vartan’s belt hard enough to catch his attention.
“Master Vartan,” I say when he turns to look at me, “can I go back to the hover?”
“You don’t like the bazaar?”
I shake my head, then say, “No.” His stare pierces me until I add, “I’m scared of all these people.”
He immediately slides his arm around my waist and tugs me tightly against him. “I’ll keep you safe. I’m a gladiator, trained to fight. Did that reptilian scare you? I could have killed him where he stood without breaking a sweat.”
My mind flashes me a picture of Master Vartan doing just that, and suddenly my mouth goes dry and my knees feel weak. If his arm weren’t around my waist, I think I would hit the pavement.
“That was a stupid thing to say,” he says. His voice is soft, but his face looks angry. I can never say the right thing. My eyes must be wide in fright because when he sees me, he must know I’m in distress. “What I said was stupid, Lyra, not you. Let’s get you out of here,” he says, then takes off so fast I have to scurry to keep up.
I was so overwhelmed with all the people and activity, I hadn’t taken a moment to look at the booths laden with crafted goods. Now that we’re practically running to our hover, I see all sorts of lovely things out of the corner of my eye. I wish I had more courage; I would have loved to touch some of the soft sweaters or inspect the jewelry displayed in many of the stalls.
Master Vartan stops so suddenly I almost trip.
“Can you tolerate an extra minima before we return to the hover?” he asks.
As soon as I nod, he stalks to a nearby booth and points to a pendant hanging amidst a sea of others on a wooden rod. He didn’t inspect all of them. There was a particular one that caught his eye. Perhaps he wants it for his mother or sister, it’s feminine. Certainly he doesn’t want it for himself.
I don’t know how he spotted this particular one from so far away, but somehow he picked the prettiest one in the stall. It’s a lovely purple stone that seems to glow from within. The silver setting is almost plain, which is perfect because the stone is so striking.
I know nothing about him, might he have a female or mate waiting for him on the ship or his home planet? My chest squeezes tightly when I wonder if this will be a gift for his female.
Am I jealous? That’s interesting. I’ve never felt this emotion before. Am I interested in Master Vartan like that? I’ve surprised myself. I certainly never felt that way about my old Master. Just having that thought pulls a little giggle from my throat. Master was old and unattractive.
“Try this on,” Master Vartan says, not even asking the shopkeeper how much it is.
Try it on? Me? Maybe he wants to imagine how it will look on his beloved.
Once it’s around my neck, he stares at the pendant itself for the slightest moment, then his gaze flicks from the stone to my face and back. He nods slowly, then faster, then turns to the shaggy blue shopkeeper and asks, “How much?”
The two haggle for a moment, credits are exchanged, Master Vartan puts his arm around my waist, and we run-walk to the hover.
My hand itches to touch the pendant. I wish I’d had the nerve to glance in the small mirror in the shop to see my reflection with the jewel hanging almost between my breasts. I keep running as I allow myself to imagine what it would be like to have a male like me so much he took time out of his busy day just to buy me something to make me happy.
I never had the courage to imagine a life like that before. Well, it wouldn’t have been courageous, it would have been stupid. Pets don’t have suitors or receive presents. Pets are lucky to be fed daily and not get spanked for their misbehavior.
We arrive at the hover, and Master Vartan helps me inside. As soon as I’m belted in, I take the pendant off, give it one last fond look, and hand it to him. I don’t know where I find the courage to speak without being spoken to, but I say, “Whoever you give this to will be a lucky female.”
A strong emotion flies across his face. I have to look hard through his foreign features to discover what it is. Whatever he’s feeling, it isn’t the appreciation I thought he would express at my compliment to his good taste.
“You don’t want my gift?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, I can identify his feelings. I’ve hurt him.
“This beautiful piece of jewelry is for me? A gift?” I turn the pendant in my hand and take the time to examine it. The surface is iridescent and so shiny I can see a distorted reflection of myself. I stroke it, allowing my finger to skate lovingly over the smooth surface. “A gift,” I whisper to myself, never intending him to hear me. “My first gift,” my tone is filled with awe.
Tears spring to my eyes as I allow my emotions to swirl inside me. I know, even as it’s happening, that I’ll remember this moment for the rest of my life. I wouldn’t have anticipated this, but there’s something about receiving something I can hold and touch and feel that affirms my existence, my worth as a living, breathing being.
My hands shake as I try to pull the necklace on over my head.
“Let me help you,” he says as he slips the piece out of my trembling grip. I never noticed his voice before, but it’s deep and full of warmth. For the briefest moment, for the first time in my life, I don’t carry the slightest fear of another person.
I knew my old Master cared for me, but I was always aware he could hurt me if I displeased him. Right this moment, though, a peaceful feeling washes over me. The enormity of this experience causes hot tears to fall from my eyes.
He captures my chin in his gentle grip and turns my face up, toward him.
“Your first gift, Lyra?” His finger traces back and forth across my throat. It barely touches my skin, yet leaves a trail of liquid fire along its path.
“Yes,” the word is more breath than sound.
He pulls away to fasten the chain behind my nape, then slides his thumb between it and my skin. Twirly feelings dance in my belly, maybe lower, with just his gentle touch.
“It looks beautiful on you,” he says, but he’s not looking at the necklace, he’s looking at me.
I fight to keep my eyes open and focused on his face. As far back as I can remember, I’ve been taught not to look directly at any other being, especially my Master or Mistress, but I can’t pull my gaze from Vartan.
I inventory his red eyes, his high cheekbones, and his plump lips. His warm breath fans across my skin. It smells fresh and warm like that day master took me to the beach so long ago. The way he’s looking at me with fire in his eyes, I could drown in it. I want to capture this moment and preserve it in my memory until my end of days.
He leans toward me, his lips edging closer to mine. Is he going to kiss me? Fear bolts through me. Pets don’t receive kisses! Pets are for . . . I don’t even know. I’m not on solid ground anymore.
Perhaps he senses my panic, or maybe he changes his mind, because I see his emotions, so plain on his face a moment ago, shutter and close down.
“We should go,” he says, his words crisp and clipped.
Vartan
I look at the nav screen and hover us out of the parking area and back toward our hotel in the city. For the second time in as many days, I remember that moment during my early days at my first ludus . The day I carried rocks until my body was racked with pain, the day my spirit cracked in half.
I learned a lot during that exercise. Perhaps that was why my trainer forced me to do it. I learned I could push my body harder and farther than I’d ever thought possible. I discovered strength inside me I’d never known to tap.
Surely, I have enough strength to follow my own edict not to glance to my right. I’ve ordered myself not to look at Lyra. I’m going to take us to the hotel and don’t need to take my eyes off my screens.
But I’m powerless. Within five dracking minimas I steal a peek at her. She’s fondling the necklace as if it’s a powerful magical amulet instead of a semi-precious stone. Even though my glance is swift, I can see her eyes are luminous with unshed tears. My gift has touched her. I guess that makes us even. She’s touched me, too.
“Talk to me, Lyra,” I tell her, trying not to sound like it’s an order, although it is.
“About what?”
Yes, Vartan, about what? You want her to tell you her feelings? It’s not a bad idea. It’s far better than sharing my own.
“Tell me about your tears.”
She pauses so long I wonder if she’s not going to speak. In the back of my mind, though, I know she doesn’t dare to disobey. She’s deciding what to tell me.
I’ll make it easier for her. “Tell me the truth.”
“Your gift is lovely and makes me feel special and guilty at the same time. I’m fighting inside my mind. Part of me knows I don’t deserve anything. I’m not special. I’m a pet and pets don’t receive gifts. Part of me wants more than anything in the galaxy to enjoy this, though. To feel worthy of it. And . . . I’m feeling so grateful to you for gifting it to me. And . . .”
Her words tumbled out in a rush. It’s as if all her thoughts and feelings had been bottled up for so long and now that the stopper is released, she can’t halt herself even if she wanted to. But this last part? She contained herself from saying it. Which makes me even more curious as to what she prevented herself from sharing.
“And?”
Another pause. This isn’t easy for her.
“And I’m wondering what your gift means.”
She still thinks of me as her master, even though I’ve told her she’s free. I have power in this relationship. I could ignore her question and change the subject, and she’d never work up the nerve to ask again.
I’m big and strong and am a force to be reckoned with in the sands of the arena. I grew up on a planet full of people who looked like me, so at first it was hard to realize that when others saw me, they didn’t recognize my distinctive markings or the emotions on my face. No, what they saw was fearsome, maybe even evil.
I’m terrifying and powerful and command respect. I’m used to it now. I saw it in every being in the bazaar. People step out of my way, give me space, leave me alone—except for the reptilian who wanted to buy Lyra. I had to control my urge to beat the living drack out of him for his audacity.
No one would know that inside my heart I’m not that male at all. There’s still a nineteen- annum -old inside me who slavers stole from his planet and forced to train in the blistering suns of outer belt asteroids. I almost died in the arena so many times I forgot who I was. I became a fighting machine inured to fear so I could enter my matches with confidence instead of in a cold sweat.
It’s not the strong, frightening male who doesn’t want to answer Lyra’s question, but the one deep inside me, the uncertain one who doubts his own strength, his own worth. I fear her rejection possibly more than I feared death in the arena. But I know how to overcome it, so I press forward.
“The gift means I like you, Lyra. I wanted to give you a token to remind you that you are worthy and special.” Saying that was harder than a blow from an Anthen warrior’s fist.
And the next thing I do? Even harder. I look at her and drink her in. All of her. From her initial surprise at my comment to the tiniest, shy smile that graces her face.
“You’re beautiful,” I blurt.
Her cheeks redden so swiftly it’s as if an unseen hand painted them crimson.
I was hovering us back to the hotel, but it will be too dangerous there. We’ve already spoken enough truth to each other. Being alone in a small room with nothing to do? Not safe. Not safe at all.
“I hear this city is known for its museums,” I say. I used to go to museums with my family. It seems like a thousand annums ago. I like the idea of being in a quiet place with Lyra. She’ll feel safe because it won’t be loud and chaotic like the bazaar. I’ll like it because I won’t have any opportunities to share my thoughts . . . or almost kiss her.
When we park at the Museum of Fine Art and I help her from the hover, I begin to doubt my judgment. She’s been quiet since I set course for here. Now that I’m looking, I see her skin has paled.
“Talk to me,” I tell her.
The moment she hesitates I know she needs incentive. “The truth,” I add.
“Pets don’t belong in a museum.” She doesn’t dare to look at me. She’s inspecting the gravel under her shoes.
At first, I want to scold her, then cajole her. Then I flash to what she looked like only a day ago. Naked and shoeless. Sitting on her heels at that dracker’s command on a stage in front of hundreds of strangers in the harsh spotlights.
Instead of scolding her for her lack of courage, I praise her.
“Look how far you’ve come in a day, Lyra. The clothes, the shoes. You’re wearing jewelry given to you because you’re worthy. You’re not a pet. I know that’s what you’ve been told your whole life, but it wasn’t what you were destined to be. You’re worthy of so much more.”
She’s still examining the gravel as if it holds the secrets of the universe.
“I promise you something.” I pause until she glances at me. When she does, I continue, “I promise you that an annum from now you’re going to be able to read. You’re going to read and write and know how to do every single thing you’ve wanted to do, but were prohibited from doing.
“Do you want to build things? Cook things? Paint or sculpt like we’re going to see inside this ancient building? Whatever you’ve dreamed of, you’re going to be on your way to doing it in the span of the next annum ,” my voice is full of conviction. I’m not being dramatic. I want this for her more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time.
“What if . . . what if I don’t know what I want?” her voice is soft and breathy.
“Then I vow in one annum’s time you’ll know, Lyra. In one annum you’ll know yourself and what your options are, and you’ll be filled with passion to do something special with your life.”