Duck!

by Kim Dare

  “Can it be fixed, sir?” Ori whispered, very softly.

  “Fixed?”

  “Turned into the kind of mark you’d like,” Ori translated.

  Raynard looked back to Ori’s wrist. “What convinced you to come here and get this mark today?”

  Ori dropped his gaze and stared at his wrist too.

  “The truth,” Raynard pushed.

  “You told me to, sir.”

  “Hamilton told you to weeks ago—so did the rest of the elders.”

  “They aren’t my master, sir.” Ori closed his eyes as he said it, knowing he didn’t have the right to call him that anymore.

  Raynard slid his other hand through Ori’s hair, tugging his head back and tilting Ori’s face up to look at him.

  “Tell me what you want—not what you think you should want, not what I’ve told you to want, or what rights the elders have said your station grants you. Tell me what you want.”

  Ori swallowed rapidly. “For everything to be the way it was before. For you to be pleased with me. To be your… To be whatever I can be to you now, sir.”

  Raynard peered down at him, even more serious now. His chest rose and fell as he took a deep breath. “You know that a swan has every right to request anything. Any man in the nest would be expected to do as a swan wanted—even if he asked for something other than what swans traditionally desire.” His grip on Ori’s hair tightened. “If you really wish to belong to me, you can have what you want.”

  Ori dipped his head, suddenly desperate to escape Raynard’s hold on him.

  Raynard’s fingers tightened around the silky white strands. Ori pulled away, as sharply as he could, tearing his wrist out of Raynard’s other hand at the same time. He fell backward, sprawling on the tiled floor, and scrambled away until his back hit the wall next to the door.

  On the edge of his chair, Raynard froze, staring down at him, anger and confusion warring in his eyes.

  “No.” It was the first time Ori could ever remember saying the word to Raynard. He’d had no idea he could ever sound so certain about a word, so determined.

  “Ori?”

  “No,” he repeated.

  “No?”

  Looking up, Ori stared, horrified, into Raynard’s eyes. “You really think I’d do that to you, sir?”

  Raynard glared back at him, his expression unreadable.

  “I don’t want you to keep me because you have to, sir,” Ori whispered. “I’d never ask you to do that and…and I won’t let you do that either!” The words flowed out, and there was nothing he could do to stop them. Panic flared inside him—a true terror that he couldn’t be strong enough to stop Raynard from making that kind of sacrifice for him. No. He shook his head. He couldn’t let that happen.

  “Since when do you ‘let’ your master do anything?” Raynard asked.

  There was a teasing note in his voice, but there was also an undercurrent. Ori immediately dropped his gaze, knowing he risked pushing Raynard past what he’d tolerate from him—whatever his species. “We both know you don’t need my permission to do whatever you want with me, sir.”

  Raynard said nothing.

  Ori stared at the floor a few inches in front of Raynard’s feet as he frantically tried to make his mind work, to do what was right for Raynard rather than himself. “You said I could ask you for something, sir,” he remembered.

  “It’s a swan’s right to—”

  Ori shook his head. “No, sir. I mean months ago, when we first… You said I could always ask you for something if it was really important to me.”

  Raynard nodded his acceptance of that fact.

  “I’m not asking as a swan, sir. I’m asking as a submissive.” That was important; Raynard had to understand that. Not knowing what else to do, Ori glanced up to let his former master see the desperation in his eyes.

  Raynard frowned, but he nodded his permission for Ori to continue.

  “Please, don’t…” Ori dragged a shuddering breath into his lungs. “Please don’t take me back if you know there’s never any chance you’ll want me. If you know that I’ll never be able to please you then…”

  When Raynard remained silent, Ori found he had to go on. He had to find words to fill the void. Picking at the seam on his trouser leg, he pushed each word out through a throat that fought each syllable.

  “If there’s any way I can belong to you and please you, I’ll do it, sir. I’ll serve you, and anyone else, in whatever way I can. I’ll do whatever you want, and I’ll get down on my knees and thank you for it every second of the day, but I can’t be… Please, don’t take me back if you don’t want me. I’d rather be miserable here on my own, than make you unhappy thinking you have to own a man you hate.”

  Raynard sat back in his chair, anger and confusion fading from his expression as if neither had ever existed. “Hamilton was right.”

  Ori swallowed, waiting to see what that verdict meant for him.

  “You’re stronger with your submission than without it.”

  Ori stared past Raynard, at the bare white wall behind him. It sounded like a joke, but he couldn’t see any reason for laughter.

  Raynard nodded to himself as if everything was suddenly settling into place inside his mind.

  Ori watched Raynard’s chest rise and fall as he took a slow, deep breath.

  “Come here.”

  Unable to trust his knees to support him if he tried to rise, but equally unable to disobey his master’s summons, Ori crawled across the floor to the base of the chair.

  Raynard tucked a knuckle under Ori’s chin, holding him still to be studied. “I never thought I’d fall in love with a swan.” The words were slow and musing, as if he was talking as much to himself as anyone else.

  Ori’s eyes opened very wide as he stared up at him.

  Raynard smiled slightly. “Are you really that shocked, fledgling?”

  He nodded, making his master chuckle. Ori automatically smiled in response. As the rich, comforting sound wrapped around him, Raynard slid his fingers through Ori’s hair and pulled him closer.

  “It’s not so unknown for a master to fall in love with his submissive.”

  Ori buried his face in Raynard’s shirt, helpless to resist the temptation to nuzzle in against him, even as his brain desperately scrambled to work out what the hell was going on now. Suddenly, everything about Raynard, from his posture to the very fact he’d resumed using the word fledgling as an endearment rather than a stage in a man’s life, welcomed Ori close. But at the same time… “You said…”

  Raynard stroked his fingers through Ori’s hair again, cradling him against his body and not even chiding him for wriggling the way he’d sometimes done when Ori had shared his bed every night.

  “You said I wasn’t your submissive anymore, sir,” Ori whispered against Raynard’s shirt.

  “Apparently, even masters are wrong on occasions—not often,” he stressed, his tone turning self-mocking. “But just on a few, very rare occasions.”

  Ori glanced up.

  “Perhaps I don’t know as much about what a swan’s nature might make him suited to as I thought,” Raynard whispered.

  A slight frown appeared between Raynard’s eyebrows.

  “I meant what I said, sir,” Ori offered quickly. “If I don’t shift—”

  Raynard covered Ori’s mouth with his hand. “You will shift as and when you’re told to, and there will be no arguing with me when I give you that command.”

  There was no room for negotiation when Raynard assumed that tone of voice. Pleasure rushed through Ori, just as it had every time his master had offered him that kind of certainty.

  “I wouldn’t let you be ashamed of your species when you were thought to be an ugly little duckling. Do you really think I’ll let you hate yourself for being a swan?” Raynard demanded, his voice gaining more confidence with each word, until they began to sound harsh.

  Ori traced the edg
e of one of Raynard’s shirt buttons, around and around, again and again.

  “I fell in love with a swan. That means no one, not even my submissive, is going to insult that species in front of me.”

  Ori blushed slightly as the words seeped into his mind, reassuring some instinctive part of him that didn’t care about anything other than his master’s good opinion of him. Something inside him sang out with joy and refused to care if anything made sense or not.

  Raynard reached into his trouser pocket and took out a familiar length of leather. “The back of the tag will need to be marked with both our symbols.”

  Ori simply stared at the collar, barely daring to breathe in case it broke some wonderful spell.

  “Is this what you want, fledgling?”

  Ori nodded very quickly.

  Raynard had the collar around Ori’s neck in seconds. For the first time since it had been taken away, Ori felt his soul settle into some semblance of peace. His heart raced, but now, it was with pleasure, not panic. He looked up at his master, wanting nothing more than to make everything exactly as it was before.

  “Take me home, sir?” he whispered, no longer caring if it sounded as though he was begging.

  Raynard smiled slightly, but he also shook his head. “Soon, but first you have some unfinished business to attend to.” He looked to the door the tattoo artist had disappeared through.

  Ori quickly covered his wrist with his opposite hand again.

  “No arguing,” Raynard ordered, before Ori had time to say a word. “Let him in, then come back to me.”

  Reluctantly rising, Ori did as he was told. When he hurried back to kneel at Raynard’s feet, Raynard shook his head again. He held a hand out to Ori and guided him to sit on his lap, so he could once more offer his wrist to the tattooist.

  The peacock made his way cautiously back to his stool. If he thought the seating arrangement a strange one, he seemed to take one look at Raynard’s expression and decide he had no wish to comment on it. By the time he had straightened up the contents of his tray, Raynard had Ori arranged comfortably on his lap.

  Permitted to curl into his master’s embrace and rest his head on his shoulder, Ori watched, rather fascinated, as Raynard wrapped his hand around his forearm, holding his wrist steady for the artist’s needle.

  “Do you know why avians started wearing these marks on their wrists?” Raynard asked him softly, as the tattoo artist bowed his head over his work.

  “So everyone can know what everyone else is, even in their human form, sir,” Ori whispered back.

  “That’s right.”

  “So they’d know where each man stood in the hierarchy,” Ori added.

  “No,” Raynard said, in the slow tone of voice that meant he was thinking about what he said very carefully. “Not at first. Years ago, it was a simple statement of pride—this is who I am, this is what I stand for. There was no such thing as a mark a man should be ashamed of. That was never what these markings were supposed to be about.”

  Ori nuzzled closer into his master’s shoulder, knowing what Raynard was trying to tell him, even if he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear it.

  “You’re a good man, Ori—and you’re a good submissive. In time, I’ll see to it you become a good swan as well. And no one will be prouder of you than I will be when that happens.”

  Ori closed his eyes as Raynard tightened his embrace around him and the tattoo artist’s needle buzzed on.

  * * * * *

  Everyone was staring at him. Ori tried to push the sensation aside, but the way whispers fluttered through the crowds of men was impossible to ignore. Everyone was staring and talking about him and—

  “Keep up, fledgling.”

  Ori scurried forward a few steps to walk more closely by his master’s side.

  Raynard didn’t even glance toward him. It was as if he knew exactly where he’d be, as if he trusted Ori to be where he belonged, and saw no need to check up on him once he’d issued a clear order.

  Ori‘s steps faltered when he caught sight of Mr Hamilton standing at the other end of the hallway. He turned toward them as they approached, and Ori felt the eagle’s attention settle on his collar. Fear rushed through him at the idea that Mr Hamilton might somehow be able to take his collar away, but Ori kept pace with Raynard regardless.

  Mr Hamilton shook hands with Raynard. He turned to Ori and held his hand out to him. Ori automatically looked to Raynard. He received a nod of permission.

  Ori reached out and shook hands with Mr Hamilton. The eagle tilted his hand to one side as their palms met, turning Ori’s tattoo up to be viewed. The skin was still red around the edges of the swirling black mark, but the design was clear and vivid against his pale skin.

  “It looks good on you, sire.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  As he released Ori’s hand, Mr Hamilton turned his attention back to Raynard. Not having any order to occupy himself with, Ori stepped back out of everyone’s way and settled himself into his rest position until such time as his master had another command for him. His movements felt so natural that, just for a few seconds, it was possible to believe it had all just been some horrible nightmare and nothing had actually changed over the last few weeks.

  “We can expect you both to be at the feast this weekend?” Mr Hamilton asked. The question seemed to be directed entirely toward Raynard, but Ori felt himself fall under the scope of the inquiry in a way he never had when everyone believed him to be a duckling.

  “We’ll both be there,” Raynard confirmed.

  The rest of the conversation didn’t seem to require any sort of contribution from Ori. Mr Hamilton dipped his head to him as he walked away, but Ori barely had time to notice the little half bow before his master was striding off again.

  As they stepped into the car park, Ori hurried forward and opened his master’s car door for him, before running around to the other side and taking his place in the passenger seat.

  The drive was completed in what might have felt like an easy, companionable, silence, if Ori’s nerves had been stronger. As it was, he just felt grateful that he hadn’t actually hyperventilated by the time Raynard’s car pulled up outside his house.

  Getting out of the car, Ori scurried around to open Raynard’s door for him again, but found himself stopped short. Raynard was already out of the vehicle. Damn. Eager to find some other way to serve, Ori turned toward the front door of the house and rushed to open that for him instead.

  His hand was already on the handle when he realised it was still locked and his master was the only one with a key.

  Raynard stepped up behind him. Ori tried to move out of his way, but he found his escape route blocked by a solid wall of hawk. Swallowing down his nerves as best he could, he stood very still as the heat from his master’s body started to soak through both their clothes.

  Raynard pushed the door open. It had taken Ori a day’s work on the hinges to make the door swing smoothly and silently.

  It was silly to be pleased that some little part of the service he’d provided for his master had lingered on in Raynard’s home while he’d been gone, but Ori concentrated his whole mind on those hinges—it was his only chance of ignoring the other thing he’d realised as their bodies pressed against each other.

  His master was hard.

  The moment the door was open, Ori stumbled forward, heading straight for the servants’ quarters.

  Raynard’s caught hold of his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I should start catching up on the duties I—”

  “Do you think that’s the best way you could serve me right now?” Raynard stepped closer, until his cock pressed intimately against Ori’s backside once more.

  His master had no doubt had plenty of erections before Ori came under his protection. He didn’t need that from him, and Ori knew he’d already given up his right to offer himself to Raynard that way
.

  “I promised,” Ori whispered. “I promised that I wouldn’t expect things to be the same as they were before, sir. I meant it.”

  “You think I’ve lost interest in you?” Raynard slid a fingertip along the edge of Ori’s collar.

  Ori’s eyes fell closed as he leaned into his touch. “I…”

  “Or do you think a hawk’s not good enough for you, now that you outrank me?”

  Ori spun around, wide eyed with horror at the idea. “I wouldn’t…!”

  A smile played around Raynard’s lips. “If nothing has changed for you, why assume it’s changed for me?”

  “Because you said everything had changed!” It sounded like an accusation. Ori wished he could take it back the moment it left his lips, but it was too late. The words were there, hanging in the air between them.

  Raynard released Ori’s arm and walked away from him. He leaned against the sideboard on the other side of the room, his arms folded across his chest.

  Ori’s feet stuck to the tiles, he was helpless to step forward and bridge the gap between them, even when every inch of space threatened to kill something inside him.

  “I think your species changes what you’re suited to,” Raynard announced, no trace of emotion in his voice. “And, yes—it means you’ll almost certainly prove to be better matched to a different form of submission than the one I had planned for you before the shifting ceremony.”

  Ori shook his head.

  “The matter isn’t open for debate.”

  Ori met his master’s gaze across the room.

  “You offered me your submission. It’s my right as your master to ensure you practice the form of submission that brings out the best of your nature.”

  No matter how much Ori wanted to look away, he couldn’t.

  “The way you’ll serve me changed the moment you completed the shifting ceremony. I won’t lie to you and say otherwise,” Raynard went on. “But I’ve never told you that the way I feel about you has changed, have I, fledgling?”

  Ori finally managed to drop his gaze. The words his master had said to him in the tattoo studio still echoed around and around inside his head, too fantastical to be believed.