Chapter 7 #2
“Thank you,” I say, looking up at him. I search him, for any sign of the man who could have installed that…
box underground. For any sign of the man who would walk me on a leash, spank me, pin me down, punish me.
And I see it, even when he’s tender, even when he’s caring for me, that underneath it all, there’s that dominant edge to him.
Talarin inclines his head.
I gather the books and carry them over to my cage, making several trips.
Then I crouch beside it and begin stacking them carefully.
The larger ones beneath the smaller ones, the spines turned so I can read the titles.
I put the carving book on top of one pile, then change my mind and move it beside the bird book.
The mysteries can go closer to the door, where I’ll be able to reach them from the furs.
I shift one stack, then another, until they’re arranged the way I want them.
Then I move the nearest pile a little closer.
If I ask nicely, one of them will put a few more logs in the fire at night, since I’m only allowed to read until the light is dark enough to strain my eyes. I never push it. Something tells me that command is one they would guard.
I return to my seat as Arrek comes out carrying a platter. He drops three huge steaks onto the chopping board, thick and juicy, with fat running through them. Then a smaller one, unmistakably mine.
Filet mignon. I have to say, it looks much better than the tenderloin of a squirrel that might be a single less chewy bite in my stew.
Mero says something to Talarin, and the two of them head towards the study, their voices fading through the doorway.
I settle back and watch Arrek cook. His sleeves are pushed up as he salts the steaks and turns them over.
A tray of potatoes goes into the oven, then he lays the meat in the hot pans.
The hiss fills the kitchen, followed by a smell that makes my mouth water.
He doesn’t ask for help, and I don’t offer.
I’m surprised he is letting me sit back and watch without giving me some order or instruction, but I’m not complaining.
He opens a bottle of wine and pours himself a glass. As he sets the bottle down, he looks towards me. Then he nods to himself, and fills another wine glass, bringing it to me, those boots heavy against the limestone, and hands it to me, his fingers brushing mine as I take it.
“Would you like to eat with us tonight, or do you prefer the cage?”
“What a romantic way to phrase that,” I say, and take a sip of the wine, considering him. If he’s going to make dinner miserable, I’d rather know now, so I’ll test him to see if he makes some nasty quip back. Instead, he just waits, patiently, for me to swallow the wine.
It’s very, very good.
“Okay. Sure, I’d like that.”
He nods again, then disappears down the hall and comes back with the huge black pillow while the steaks sizzle.
On the pillow is an elegant, sheer black dress. I almost don’t see it against the black fabric.
“Put it on,” he says, then sets the pillow on the bench between his place and Mero’s, so I’m going to be sandwiched between the two big, beefy alien men.
I lift the dress. It’s light and soft, so delicate compared to the outdoor clothes I’m wearing now, my shirt and trousers. Beneath it is a narrow black collar with a little silver clasp, beautifully made, and no bell. I reach for it.
“No.” His hand settles over mine, trapping it against the collar. “When you come back, I’m collaring you.”
He stares down at me, intense, brutal, so possessive.
Before I can say anything, his hands come up.
He reaches behind my neck and releases the collar.
The bell rings once as he draws it away, then he puts it in his pocket.
My hand goes straight to my throat. It’s so strange to feel my skin without it.
Then he returns to the stove, and I stand there feeling strangely bare.
I start towards the bathroom, intending to pull on the dress and come straight back.
The steaks must be getting done, as thick as they are.
But then I look towards the stove and see that my little filet is still waiting on the chopping board.
He hasn’t even put it in the pan yet. Those huge, thick, fatty steaks will take a while.
I’ve got time.
And if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right.
I turn towards the stairs. Arrek gives me a look but says nothing, and I go up with the dress over my arm.
The room is quiet, the mirror waiting above the dressing table, the little jars and brushes arranged before it. I lay the dress over the chair, then sit and look at myself. My hand finds my throat again. There is a faint mark where the collar sat, and I tilt my chin, tracing it with my fingers.
It looks strange. Nothing around my neck.
I catch myself still moving my head carefully, as though the weight is there, as though turning too quickly will make the bell sound. I lower my hand and study myself in the reflection.
I look, I have to admit, healthier. There is more color in my face.
Pinker cheeks, a little less darkness beneath my eyes.
I turn my head one way, then the other. My cheeks aren’t so hollowed out, and the sharpness has softened, just a little.
A bit plumper. I lean closer to make sure I’m not imagining it.
I’ve been in their care only nine days.
I swallow and don’t think about what the tenth means.
Then I pick up the dress. The fabric is soft and light, and I put it down again quickly before stripping off my shirt and trousers. I’m wearing panties and a bra, but he didn’t tell me I couldn’t keep them on, so I pull the black dress over them.
The neckline dips low, and the hem falls well above my knees, but it is strangely elegant despite how much it leaves bare. I smooth my hands down the sides and turn towards the mirror. It’s expertly made. Perfect for me, exactly for my form.
I tug at the hem. I really don’t want to look stupid.
I sit before the mirror and look over the little jars and brushes.
Mei made this seem easy. She gave me the basics and told me to stick to them, so that’s what I do.
A little color, carefully blended. The small brush at the base of my lashes, working upwards, slowly.
I lean closer, concentrating, and get a tiny black mark where it should not be.
Fuck.
I find a tissue and carefully remove it.
From downstairs comes the sound of plates being set upon the table. The cooking noises have stopped. I hear Mero’s voice, then Talarin’s, followed by Arrek saying something too low for me to make out. They’re in the dining room now. My hand pauses, then I turn back to the mirror.
I am taking my time.
I finish the other eye, checking that they look roughly the same.
Then I pick up the soft color Mei used on my lips, consider it, and put it down.
I choose something a little redder. There is something about that combination, the black dress and the red lipstick, that I’m attracted to.
I put it on carefully, then lean back to see how it looks.
My hair is tangled. I’ve always kept it cut pretty short because long hair is a detriment in the forest, but now I take the comb and work through it patiently. I listen for any sound of annoyance in their voices, but they seem to be okay. Those steaks have to rest for a while.
Then I hear the sizzle again.
Mine. He’s only putting mine in now.
So I wasn’t making them wait anyway. Not that I was worried too much.
I finish combing my hair and look at myself in the mirror. I’ve never really looked at myself this way. I can’t help it. I smile a little. Then my eyes move towards the high heels.
Yeah. I don’t think so.
The new collar is waiting downstairs. And so are they.