Chapter Twelve
...............................
Henri
––––––––
I GLANCED AT ILY KNEELING obediently by my feet.
Her hair shone like midnight cobalt, and her black diamante bra and G-string made her look far too sultry. Dark red lines marked where I’d cut her, healing and visible now she’d removed the band-aids.
Ten minutes she’d been kneeling, exquisitely beautiful and silent on the warm oak floor. Ten fucking minutes and she’d not once made eye contact with me.
Another crack of stone-shaking thunder crashed through the ballroom. A few jewels hunched where they kneeled by their respective Masters. Even a few men flinched, then chuckled at their reaction.
Rain pummelled against the huge floor-to-ceiling windows like liquid bullets intent on mowing through the dining crowd.
The storm had arrived with dark vengeance as the sun set, rumbling distantly on the horizon as I’d sat in the library and chosen a stack of books to take back to my room.
By the time I’d returned to my chamber and showered away any trace of Ily’s saliva and remnants of my soul she’d devoured, the entire island quaked.
Lightning forked, and the air crackled with electricity, followed a few seconds later by its angry lover with a crash of cymbals that made my bones ring.
I glowered at Ily again.
She didn’t twitch like the others. Her eyes remained locked on the legs of the table, her hands loosely joined in her lap.
What had she done all afternoon?
What had she said to the others?
Had Peter touched her? Talked to her?
My hands balled.
I’d stayed busy after escorting Ily to the slave quarters. I’d deliberately distracted myself with the written word, so I didn’t march back and demand her company.
The fact that I actually missed her annoyed me.
The fact that I couldn’t control my jealousy fucked me right off.
While she was with me, all those feelings of being alone were blessedly deleted, but the moment she was gone...merde.
I raked a hand over my face as a demure staff member delivered a silver-ringed plate full of perfectly roasted chicken, salad, and herb-roasted potatoes.
I looked up and smiled. “Thank you.”
She startled as if she’d never been spoken to before. Her pretty hazel eyes reminded me of Ily’s, just darker and less golden. With a bow, she scurried away like a terrified mouse.
“I appreciate your attempts at being cordial and polite, Henri, but you don’t have to do that.” Victor appeared from the candle-shrouded darkness. No lights in the ballroom. Just massive chandeliers and sconces all flickering with wax-dripping candles.
I didn’t know if he was going for an ancient kind of atmosphere or if the power had cut out thanks to the storm. Either way, the soft illumination painted everyone in a romantic, almost dreamy light.
A random thought popped into my head. “Do your guests play with your staff too, Vic? Or are they off limits?”
Ily sucked in a breath.
Victor laughed as he settled himself in the chair beside me. “Why? Is your eye wandering already?”
“No.” I ran my fingers over Ily’s thick hair. “Merely wondering how you keep an estate like this running if everyone working in it is fair game.”
Victor nodded and waited for a stunning dark-haired, blue-eyed jewel to kneel beside him. Her collar caught the candlelight, dancing tiny flames over her face while the black teddy she wore poured like darkness over her curvy frame. “I see you’re already taking an interest in the bigger picture.”
I couldn’t read him. “Am I allowed to know, or are the secrets of how you run this place forbidden?”
“Forbidden? No, not at all.” He grinned. “It’s nice to have someone appreciate the level of coordination that goes into forming a utopia like this. My other guests come for a few days and leave. They don’t stop to think about how food is delivered and who changes their sheets and towels.”
Patting my knee, he glanced around the half-full ballroom, complete with Masters, jewels, and staff.
“I’m happy to tell you whatever you wish to know.
After all, like you said, you have nowhere else to go.
You should know how your new home operates.
But allow me to give you a word of advice.
If you feel like dabbling with someone who isn’t a jewel, you must ask permission first. My staff—cleaners, cooks, waiters, gardeners—are all selected and stolen like my other gems—but...
they have been given a different purpose.
They sleep in a different area of Joyero and are subject to different rules. ”
“So they’re exempt from fucking?”
“Unless a Master makes a request for one of them to switch roles, then yes. I need them to keep this place clean and tidy. They can’t do that on their backs.”
Ily wrinkled her nose but wisely stayed silent.
My eyes drifted to the jewel Victor had taken over the table on the first night.
He caught me looking and cupped her chin. “Isn’t she something? One day, when you’re no longer indulging in your little crush, you can taste her if you wish. I’m selective of who gets to borrow her, but for you...I’ll make an exception.” He ran a thumb over her bottom lip.
She didn’t react, keeping her eyelashes low, shielding her eyes.
“What’s her name?” I asked, appreciating her beauty but feeling no kick, no lust. I glanced back at Ily only to be sucker-punched in the goddamn stomach with both desire and connection.
The loneliness I’d felt this afternoon was quiet now she was near.
And I honestly didn’t know how to deal with that.
“Rachel.” Victor let his jewel go, snapping his fingers for another waiter to bring him a glass of the wine being circulated around the dining guests.
“She’s a chemist. Or was.” He selected a glass from a tray offered by a demure server, then toasted me.
“Now she’s my personal favourite, and I find her sharp intelligence extraordinary. ”
“A chemist sounds interesting.”
“She apparently used to work for the government. A top-secret project where an aerosol drug created uncontrollable seizures. It became an invisible weapon, you see. To be used in war.”
I scowled. “What’s the point in war if you’re not actively involved in the fighting? It removes the gore and glory.”
“Precisely.” He nodded. “Tell me.” He glanced at Ily, meek and strangely obedient by my feet. “How was the rest of your afternoon? I’m assuming you made her help you with your little ‘problem’?”
My hand strayed to press against my cock. “I did.”
“And?”
“And...she blew my brains out.”
He laughed. “Excellent. I’m happy to hear you’re both settling in so well.”
A meal was placed in front of Victor; he didn’t thank the girl who delivered it.
Stabbing a crispy potato, he shoved it into his mouth and clapped his hands.
Immediately, a spotlight beamed, soft and gold on the black-draped podium at the head of the ballroom. Unlike the olden days, where a quartet would play or a singer would croon, two jewels stepped into the light and bowed.
A crack of thunder boomed.
“Another show?” I leaned toward Victor. “Do you put porn on every night?”
“Most nights.” He chewed and swallowed. “If you have any preferences, let me know. I’ll ensure a show is designed for your certain tastes.”
My stomach tightened as I dropped my eyes to Ily again.
The memory of sinking inside her when we’d been ordered to perform.
The savageness in which I’d taken her.
I wanted to do it again, only this time...I wouldn’t rush it. I’d use the toys on offer. Maybe warm her up with a whip.
My hand stung from swatting her this afternoon.
I’d almost convinced myself that I’d come as hard as I had because of what I’d done to her before she sucked me. But...I had a horrible suspicion that the moment her tongue licked me and her hand dove indecently between my legs, I was fucking putty in her hands.
Where had she learned to blow like that?
And why did I hate that she was so good?
Who taught her?
Rage poured through me.
She gave her ex a birthday blowjob.
Jesus Christ, if she’d given him what she gave me, how did the cunt ever let her go?
My hands curled to kill him.
Knowing he’d touched what was mine.
Been inside what was mine.
It made me homicidal.
Not noticing my glower, Ily rose higher on her knees and looked toward the stage.
No doubt trying to see if Peter was the lead star again.
Her shoulders relaxed a little as she noticed the chosen boy, then tensed as she recognised the Viking-looking slave marching around in a tool belt and low-slung jeans.
She seemed as uninformed as I was, which didn’t make sense as she’d spent two hours with the jewels.
Shredding some chicken with my fork, I bent down and offered it to her.
She turned to me with a gasp.
“Did you have a nice afternoon?” I asked softly, pressing the tines against her lips.
She opened just enough for me to place the chicken on her tongue.
My cock went rock fucking hard the moment she bit down.
Chewing, she shook her head. “No.”
“No?”
She swallowed. “Everyone was still serving. I spent the afternoon alone.” Something flickered in her eyes. Something that summoned an answering flicker inside my chest.
“You could’ve spent it with me.”
“Thank God I didn’t,” she shot back. That little flicker again. A little smoulder. A shimmer of need.
Just like I was a fast learner of what got her off, I’d started cataloguing her tells.
Gathering another mouthful, this time a perfectly seasoned potato, I fed it to her and whispered, “You’re frustrated, little nightmare.”
“What?” She reared back, the potato fat in her cheek. “No, I—”
“Liar.” Ignoring Victor’s glance, I cupped her nape and pulled her into me. My mouth landed on her ear. “You made me come so hard this afternoon, I completely forgot to return the favour. You needed to shatter too. You still do. I smell it on you. I see it in your eyes.”
“You’re mad.” She flinched and tried to pull away. Chewing the potato, she swallowed hard. “Get off me.”