9
My clients don’t hold my attention the way they normally do. I don’t always get aroused when talking to them, but I always listen, always respond. Except for today.
Today, I can’t think of anything but the way it felt to be on my knees for them. I’m angry, yes. I’m hurt, yes. Disappointed, humiliated, sad. But I’m still grasping onto those tiny moments, those fragments of time when I felt special.
Kill me now.
When I finally give up working for the day, I clean the house, do another load of laundry, and get some barbecue chicken going in the crock pot. Anything to distract myself, anything to kill time. I want to leave. I want fresh fucking air, to see the moon, to feel the sun. To be anywhere but here.
Instead, I stay trapped and isolated until they come home.
Both of them look as if they’ve been in a fight of some kind. I was almost relieved to have the company when I heard the locks click, but seeing their brooding, scraped up faces and dirty clothes has me nervous to move at all.
Manson is limping, but it’s the blood on Asher’s hands that has my heart rate picking up.
“Can you get the first aid kit, pet? It’s in the bathroom.” Ash shoves Manson slightly to get him to fall onto the couch, then kneels down to remove his shoes.
Fuck. Moving quickly, I grab the kit from under the sink and then slow down as I walk back. Why am I rushing to help them? Why am I helping at all? They hurt me for fun. I should send the person who did it a gift card.
“Rhea!” Asher yells, making me flinch as he snatches the box away. “Why the hell did you slow down?”
“I’m fine,” Manson growls. “It’s just a scratch.”
Of course it is.
“What happened? Pick a fight with someone bigger than you for once?”
To my surprise Manson chuckles, making Ash roll his eyes and stomp off toward the linen closet. “He’s grouchy about it.”
“I’m not fucking grouchy,” he calls back. “I’m fucking pissed.” He slams the door, returning with a black towelette to clean up the blood. “Take off your pants, idiot.”
Manson reaches for the buckle with his gaze on me with a weird smile plastered on his face. “Can you help me? I think the medicine is kicking in.”
“So sorry,” I say with a fake smile. “I have to keep an eye on dinner so it doesn’t burn.”
“It’s in a crockpot,” Ash calls from the sink, squeezing out the cloth before he joins us again and takes over.
The way they move together tells me this isn’t their first rodeo. Sure, Asher is angry right now, but there’s no panic on his face as he peels off Manson’s ruined jeans and begins to clean up what looks like some sort of thick cut. If I had to guess, I’d think it was a bullet graze, but what do I know?
They should’ve aimed a little better if that was the case.
“I know where it’s at. What happened to him?”
Ash ignores me completely, but Manson seems to be in a much chattier mood. “Someone thought they could get one over on us.”
“Mans—”
“What? She lives with us. Can’t really keep many secrets now, can we?”
“We can if you shut up.”
It’s my turn to ignore him. Stepping in, I sit gently on the couch and take Manson’s hand. “Who did this to you?”
“The one with the scar.” He smiles down at our hands and slots our fingers together. “Some people just don’t want to go out. It happens. Fight or flight, you know?”
“Go out? Like... die?” I ask, realizing this is more serious than I thought. “Did you kill someone?”
He laughs. “No, like go out on a date. Fucking homophobes.”
Asher stops what he’s doing to stare at him like he’s an alien, and I think we’re finally on the same page about something.
“You... tried to ask a man out and he shot you? You did this in front of Asher, who is clearly the love of your life?”
Both of them laugh this time, and I don’t know if it’s at me or at the ridiculous words that just came out of my mouth. I’m so fucking confused.
“Shit is strong,” Manson says after he catches his breath. “I can’t even feel the leg at all. Cut it off if you have to.”
“It’s a scrape, Manson. You’re fine.”
He flicks it before grabbing a bandage, but Manson’s attention is back on me. “What’s for food? It smells good.”
“Barbecue chicken,” I mutter. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Hard day at work,” Ash responds. “Don’t worry about it. He’ll sleep it off.”
Maybe that means I’ll sleep tonight, too. “Asher, what exactly do you two do for work?”
“I don’t have an answer that will make sense so we’ll keep it simple, yeah?” From how he sounds, I’m not the only one that needs some decent sleep. “We work for the Provost.”
It takes me a second. “Wait, of that kinky school across town? St. Andrew’s?”
For the briefest moment, I’m not the step-sister that he hates, we’re just two people sitting way too close after too long of a day. “Yeah,” he chuckles. “The kinky one.”
“So you train people to have sex?” God, it comes out sounding jealous and I know that — but they’re fucking me without condoms. I thought I was the only one. “How long?”
“How long? You know how long it is,” he jokes — fucking jokes . Who the hell is this guy? “No, we don’t work at the school, we just work for him. It’s completely unrelated to the kinky stuff.”
“Was that jealousy?”
I thought Manson had fallen asleep, but here we are. “No. Just wanted to make sure you two weren’t going to bring home some crazy disease.”
“Mmhm,” he hums, reaching out to ghost a finger on my cheek. “That blowjob was amazing.”
“Close your eyes, Manson. You can shower after a nap.”
The fact that he instantly obliges surprises me, but they seem to be even closer than I thought they were. They trust each other in a way I’ve never experienced before, and that’s the thing that makes me jealous.
Good for them, I guess.
“Dinner’s ready. He should eat first so whatever you gave him doesn’t fuck his stomach up.”
“Yeah, good call. I’ll wake him up when it’s dished.” Ash watches me closely as I move to stand, then grabs my hand before I can walk away. “I—” Whatever he’s about to say he seems to think better of because he releases me like I’ve burned him and breaks our stare. “Just water for us tonight.”
“Right. At your service, master.” Fighting an eyeroll, I get everything ready and set on the table, then sit before he can tell me not to hide in my room. It won’t do me much good anyway.
I try hard not to pay attention to his every move as he washes his hands and brings Manson his plate, but it’s impossible not to look at him when he sits directly across from me to eat his own. “He’s eating.”
“Yeah, that’s good. Hopefully it’ll help him sleep. Was he shot or stabbed?”
“Grazed,” he mumbles around a bite. “Like I said, he’s fine. Not the first time and won’t be the last.”
“The Provost is into all kinds of terrible shit, Ash. You are too?”
He chews his food slowly, taking his time with whatever bullshit response he’s going to toss my way. “It’s just a job. Don’t worry about us.”
So in other words, yes. They’re involved in terrible things.
It doesn’t exactly come as a shock given their treatment of me now and the rumors I’ve heard over the years, but still. It puts things into perspective.
“Oh, I don’t — but if you two die out there, who the hell is going to take this collar off of me and let me out of here?”
Asher rolls his eyes. “Glad to hear you’re so worried about us, Rhea, but they don’t call us the Devils of Saint City for nothing. And all your shit is top notch, alright? Don’t stress. If we don’t login every 24 hours, everything will unlock for you anyway. Guess even the black market wanted pretty little captives like you to have a fail-safe.”
“And what if there’s a fire in here while you’re gone?” I press. “Oh, right. Never mind. I forgot who I was talking to — you already reminded me I have plenty of canvas left.”
“So fucking pissy all the damn time.”
Like he’s one to talk.
“How would you feel if our situation was reversed? I’m being serious. I’m curious if you’d react differently.”
Shrugging, he scarfs down some more food before responding. “How the fuck would I know? You want to try it?”
“Yeah. Let me light your bed on fire, slash your tires, steal your door, put a shock collar on you, make you wipe me after I pee, take advantage of you sexually when you’re asleep and can’t say no, remind you constantly you’re not human, you’re just a pet, and while we’re at it, I’ll bring someone else in to show them love and make you watch while I remind you you aren’t worth it. When do we start?”
One second he’s sitting across from me, and the next he’s gone, slamming his room door so hard the walls shake, and Manson jumps from his spot on the couch.
I can tell the food has absorbed some of the medicine when he stands on his own and moves to join me in the kitchen, but he’s still loopy enough to have missed what just happened. “Where’d he go? Is he done with this?”
Placing his empty bowl aside, he picks up Ash’s fork without waiting and polishes off his food too.
“He’s mad because I reminded him exactly what he’s doing to me and he can’t handle it,” I mutter. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Manson. Do you need anything before I go to bed?”
“Nah.” His smile is gone, but I can tell he’s far too tired to feel anything else right now. “I think Ash might be losing his mind. Hell, maybe we both are.”
“If you’re expecting me to say sorry, I won’t. At least you have your freedom.” Nodding to him slightly, I leave the dishes in the sink and head to bed far earlier than I normally would have — but I’ve had enough for one day.
Hopefully they’ve had enough too.