by Kim Dare
“You’re allowed to speak,” Raynard offered.
“I wasn’t sure how you take your coffee, sir. I found some sugar, but…”
But any milk left there would have gone bad weeks ago. “Black’s fine. No sugar.”
Turning away from the machine once he’d reassured himself that it was in far better order than most of his uncle’s possessions, and probably wouldn’t explode on Ori any time soon, Raynard sat down at the kitchen table.
“Fetch a cup for yourself too, if you want one.”
Having an order to follow seemed to help Ori settle his nerves. His hands were steady as he brought the coffee to the table—just one cup.
“Thank you.” Raynard nodded to a chair opposite him.
Ori perched cautiously on the very edge of the seat.
“Tell me what your duties were at the nest.”
“To follow whatever orders were issued to me, sir.”
Raynard studied Ori carefully. “Did Hamilton speak to you about what you would and wouldn’t be expected to do, what orders other men were permitted to give you?”
Ori shook his head. After a second’s silence he offered, “Mr Hamilton said permanent arrangements and specific duties will be discussed when I become a fully-fledged shifter, sir. Until then…”
Raynard took a sip of his coffee. It burned his tongue, but he swallowed it down regardless, eager to wash away the bitter taste the eagle’s actions left in his mouth.
Hamilton was responsible for what happened to any shifter in the nest. He obviously hadn’t stooped to take care of a mere fledgling who didn’t have a species to call his own. Tempering his anger as best he could, Raynard pushed the matter aside to deal with at a later date and focused in on more immediate concerns.
“As you’ve probably noticed—my uncle’s house lay empty for some time before I arrived. Even when he was alive, he obviously didn’t see that it was properly maintained. It’ll take a great deal of work to set the building in order.”
Ori nodded very earnestly at the pronouncement. “Yes, sir.”
“You don’t appear to be afraid of hard work.” Raynard let his eyes travel around the kitchen again, allowing Ori to see that he was very pleased with his first impressions of him.
Ori dipped his head a little, obviously unused to even such mild approval.
“Find a pen and some paper. Make a list of the supplies you think you’ll need in order to make a start on those tasks that need to be completed most urgently.”
“Yes, sir.” He sounded confident enough about his ability to do that.
Picking up his coffee, Raynard rose from his chair. Ori stood too.
“When you’re done with the list, come up to the study. It’s just off the hall—follow the trails in the dust and you shouldn’t get too lost.”
“Yes, sir.”
Raynard walked away, back up to his study. The prospect of sorting through yet more of his uncle’s jumbled pieces of paper was hardly appealing, but he couldn’t help but be aware that it wasn’t just his destination that made him less than inclined to leave the kitchen. There was something curiously fascinating about the man who occupied the servants’ quarters which made Raynard eager to study him further.
When he heard a soft knock on his study door an hour later, Raynard was more than ready to put his paperwork aside and resume his observations of the boy. “Enter.”
Raynard forced himself to keep his attention on the last page of the document he was reading as Ori stepped into the room and walked across the grubby carpet to stand in front of his desk. When he finally looked up, Ori looked far less happy to see Raynard than Raynard felt to see him.
Raynard bit back the smile that had tried to creep onto his lips. “Ori?”
The boy remained silent for a second, then—“I broke one of the other coffee cups, sir.” He rushed the words out so quickly, it took Raynard a few seconds to untangle them and straighten them out into a sentence that made sense.
From the way the duckling’s Adam’s apple bobbed, Ori seemed to think the breakage was some sort of hanging offense. He stared at the empty coffee cup on Raynard’s desk as if worried it might leap up and try to take some sort of caffeine fuelled vengeance on behalf of its fallen brethren.
Raynard leaned back in his chair and studied Ori carefully. “I’m assuming it didn’t happen while you were juggling them or pitching them across the room?”
If nothing else, the question convinced Ori to lift his eyes and meet Raynard’s gaze.
“No, sir…?” he hazarded.
“Accidents happen—providing they don’t occur through carelessness, they won’t get you into too much trouble with me.”
Ori moved his weight from one foot to another, obviously doubting Raynard’s decision would stand the test of time.
“Ducks aren’t generally known for their hand-eye coordination,” Raynard pointed out, as patiently as he could manage. “Neither are fledglings for that matter. When you’re fully fledged, you may well find your limbs far easier to control.”
Ori smiled, just a fraction, but Raynard saw real relief rushing through him. There was no need to ask if he’d have been punished at the nest. His expression said it all.
“Did you make out the list?”
“Yes, sir.”
Raynard held out his hand for it.
Ori passed it across the desk without a word.
A brief scan down the slightly crumpled piece of paper and Raynard was satisfied that Ori knew what he was doing. Much to Raynard’s relief, it appeared his new charge wouldn’t need to have his every move mapped out for him.
Opening the top drawer of the desk—the only drawer in the entire house that he’d managed to empty of inherited jumble and refill with his own belongings, Raynard took out a credit card and offered it to the boy.
“The pin number is four-five-four-three.”
Ori stared at it as if he’d never seen a piece of plastic before, or perhaps as if it had never occurred to him that anyone would trust a servant with such an item.
“I’m visiting my uncle’s lawyers later this morning. I’ll drive you into town, and you can pick up enough to get started.”
“Yes, sir.”
Raynard waved his dismissal to Ori. Turning his attention to the spider’s web of jottings that were apparently his uncle’s only written record of a business deal that had run into the millions, he nodded to himself.
A servant who was capable of putting the house in order without constant observation would take one thing off his own list of concerns.
Yes, of course, a sarcastic little voice piped up in the back of his mind. That is the only thing you’re interested in using the boy for. Raynard rubbed at the furrow between his eyebrows. He really would have to find a few hours in which to do more than paperwork…
* * * * *
By the time Ori had been under his protection for a few days, it seemed to Raynard that everything had fallen into a simple but effective routine. It generally centred around Raynard making sure he remembered the difference between what he was permitted to do to the image of Ori while he lay alone in his own bed, and what he was allowed to require of the actual man the rest of the time.
Still, Raynard was starting to believe he had quite a good read on the boy. When Ori came to stand before his desk and appeared to be even more wary than he usually did when arriving there on his own accord, Raynard had no doubt what brought him there.
“Did you keep the pieces?”
“Sir?”
“From your expression, you don’t think whatever’s been broken will be easy to replace.”
Ori blushed, but he shook his head.
“There’s something else you want to speak to me about?” Raynard prompted when Ori failed to speak up of his own volition.
Ori stared silently at Raynard’s desk for a few more seconds. His eyes rested on some paperwork, but he seemed to be more interested in
getting his thoughts in order than reading a boring business contract upside down. “You said my duties here would be the same as they were at the nest, sir,” he finally said.
“Broadly,” Raynard allowed, relaxing back in his chair to study Ori more comfortably. He was wearing the clothes that Raynard had selected and purchased for him—black trousers and a white shirt of discreetly good quality. The simplicity suited him well, even if the way he was standing, with his hands in his pockets, didn’t show the tailoring to its best advantage.
“At the nest…” Ori faltered. “I mean, some of the other shifters who visited the nest…some of the…” He took a deep breath. “There are other ways I could be serving you, if you wanted me to, sir.” He risked a brief glance up.
Raynard caught Ori’s gaze and held it. There was no doubt what he was suggesting. The only question Raynard had was whether Ori had picked up on his attraction to him and felt some sort of submissive need to accommodate it, or if he simply assumed that any man who took him into his household would wish to use him as a whore.
“You’re not at the nest now,” Raynard said, choosing each word with care. “That sort of service isn’t required here.”
Ori looked down. Fresh colour rushed to his cheeks. “I didn’t mean any disrespect, sir. I just thought…”
Raynard nodded. Ori stopped trying to explain himself. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, pushing his shoulders up, making him look even younger and less sure of himself than ever.
“You’re not in trouble,” Raynard reassured, as gently as he could muster—which admittedly wasn’t very, right then. “You may go back to your duties.”
For the first time since he made his offer, Ori seemed to breathe. “Yes, sir.”
He backed away from the desk. He had to take one of his hands out of his pockets to open the door. The front of his trousers didn’t settle into place the way Raynard expected. His hands hadn’t been the only thing altering the line.
Talking about servicing his master hadn’t just made Ori nervous. It had made him hard.
Suddenly, there was one more potential explanation for the offer and it quickly expanded to push all alternatives out of Raynard’s mind. It was just possible that Ori’s offer hadn’t been made for his employer’s benefit. Staring at the door Ori had closed neatly behind him on the way out, Raynard soon found his own fly in much the same, tented state.
By the time a few more days had passed quietly between them, Raynard had become used to staring at doors Ori had left through, trying to work out exactly what to think of the boy. He’d also become accustomed to looking forward to seeing Ori when he arrived home after another day doing ever more frustrating battle with his uncle’s lawyers and business associates.
He never knew exactly what the little fledgling would have achieved while he was gone, but seeing Ori blush when he was offered even the tiniest scrap of praise inevitably eased Raynard’s mood.
As he walked into the house that particular day, a little over two weeks after Ori had come to serve him, Raynard heard a noise emanating from the library. A nudge had the door swinging silently open. Ori had obviously been to work on it, eliminating the squeaks and creaks from the hinges.
Raynard paused in the doorway, staring intently across the room. It wasn’t quite what he had come to expect from his rather shy little duckling, but it was one hell of a ‘welcome home, sir’.
Chapter Three
Ori made his way slowly down the library ladder. Balancing the heavy box of books awkwardly on one forearm, he kept a firm grip on the mahogany rail with his free hand as he descended. Some of the books he’d collected looked old and valuable. It wouldn’t do to fall and drop them.
Stepping off the narrow wooden rungs, Ori flexed his bare feet against the rug that covered the floorboards in that corner of the library. Even as he relished standing on the more comfortable surface, he frowned.
He’d been so sure he’d got the fire established properly this time.
Placing the box of books carefully on the library table, he turned to the fireplace.
A blaze was still flourishing in the huge hearth. It hadn’t gone out again. Yet a cold draft still swirled around his ankles. Ori’s frown deepened. Raynard would never be able to use the room comfortably while—
“Hello, Ori.”
Ori spun around. Raynard stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable as he took in every detail of the scene before him.
“You’re back early!”
It sounded like an accusation, as if Ori didn’t think the man had the right to walk into his own house whenever he damn well pleased. Ori mentally cursed himself for letting the words slip out, but it was too late to drag them back.
As Raynard continued to stare across the room at him, his reaction became easier to interpret. He looked amused rather than angry. That was good. Raynard’s gaze left Ori’s face and travelled down. That wasn’t good.
There was nothing submissive about the way Raynard lowered his eyes. Ori’s brain finally snapped into action. He brought his hands in front of himself to cover his crotch. It didn’t feel like enough, especially not when being in the same room as Raynard tended to have a quick and noticeable effect on his cock.
Even as embarrassment rushed to Ori cheeks, blood hurried to his shaft, encouraging it to stiffen and rise for Raynard.
Raynard finished his leisurely inspection of Ori’s body. Their eyes met again. Ori quickly looked away. With every moment that passed, he expected to be dismissed so he could fetch his clothes, but no order came.
Finally, Ori cleared his throat. “With your permission, sir?” Incapable of moving his hands in order to make any other sort of gesture toward his escape route, he nodded toward the door. “I’ll fetch my clothes.”
Raynard leaned against the doorframe, apparently in no mood to let Ori leave. “Where exactly are your clothes?”
“In the butler’s quarters, sir.”
“And you’re not wearing them because…?”
Ori swallowed. After the fool he’d made of himself by offering Raynard the kind of service he obviously wasn’t interested in receiving from him, Ori could hardly blame Raynard for thinking that he’d intended him to walk in on a naked man and change his mind. He shuffled his feet as a fresh wave of humiliation coursed through him.
“Ori?” Raynard prompted.
“The dust, sir. It’s easier to…”
“Easier to wash the dust off your body than your clothes?” Raynard finished for him. He took a step forward.
Ori managed a jerky nod in response. The clothes Raynard had bought him were all perfect tailoring and expensive material. They had to have cost a small fortune. There was no way he’d have been able to keep them in good condition if he started cleaning in them. His simple solution had seemed so logical until a few seconds ago.
Raynard strolled closer still. Ori forgot how to breathe. Somehow, he found himself holding Raynard’s gaze as the hawk closed the gap between them. Raynard stopped, barely a foot away.
Ori had to tilt his head back to keep their eyes locked.
Raynard stroked his thumb down Ori’s cheek. It came away smudged with dust.
Ori dropped his gaze to stare down at the digit, completely mesmerised.
“A few days ago, you came to my study.”
There could be no doubt which visit he was referring to. “Yes, sir,” Ori whispered.
“Because you thought you should, or because it was what you wanted?”
His gaze now fixed on the third button of Raynard’s shirt, Ori found himself entirely incapable of making words happen.
Raynard touched his face again. Sliding a knuckle under Ori’s chin, he guided him to tilt his head back.
“I guess what they said in the nest was true, sir,” Ori blurted out, as he realised there was no way he’d be allowed to walk away from the conversation without answering the question. “Head down, arse up is a natural posi
tion for a duck.”
Raynard said nothing, but his touch lingered under Ori’s chin, trapping him exactly where he wanted him.
“I’m sorry, sir. I shouldn’t have…I know none of the men in the nest who…I know none of them have your rank, sir.”
“You think that’s why I failed to take you up on your offer, because I consider you to be beneath me?”
Ori swallowed. It was hard to think of two avian species that could be farther apart in the hierarchy. It was equally hard not to picture himself physically pinned beneath Raynard’s body when Raynard used that phrase. Ori’s cock stiffened further behind his hands, as if desperate to push his fingers out of the way and show off for the hawk.
Glancing up, Ori tried to ready himself to hear the worst, but Raynard still looked vaguely amused. Ori dropped his gaze again. His attention fell on Raynard’s fly. The material was pulled taught by a very obvious erection. Ori’s eyes snapped back up to Raynard’s face.
“You were right when you thought my decision had something to do with rank. Hawks are raised to respect their servants—not to take advantage of those who they take under their protection. I don’t order my servants to my bed, Ori.”
“Yes—” Before the honorific could leave Ori’s lips, Raynard moved his knuckle up to rest against Ori’s mouth. Ori’s lips had been slightly parted. Raynard’s knuckle now settled between them, not allowing him to open his mouth to speak, but not permitting him to bring his lips back together either.
“A submissive, however,” Raynard mused, apparently more to himself than anyone else. “That would be a very different matter. Do you know the difference between a servant and a submissive, Ori?”
Ori shook his head, just a fraction. His lips moved against Raynard’s knuckle, making him desperate to kiss it properly.
“A submissive doesn’t simply offer to obey another man’s orders and do his bidding—he truly belongs to his master, and his master may do anything he wants with him, anything.” His knuckle slid a little farther into Ori’s mouth. “His master doesn’t just have a right to make use of his submissive’s time and his skills. He owns him. Body. Mind. Soul. Everything.”