by Nikki Rae
“Shhh.” It was a gentle sound. He wasn’t trying to silence, only soothe.
I felt his hands leave me, my collarbone and chest throbbing with the aftermath. Then I felt something cold in their place. Ice in a bag, if I had to guess. Sooner than I thought possible, the area was numb, and although it made me shiver, I was grateful for the cold.
“Better?” he asked.
I nodded, neck still sore yet not as bad.
“Are you thirsty?”
I hadn’t realized until now how dry my mouth and throat were. I nodded again.
Placing a hand behind my head, his arm supported my neck while his palm held the back of my left shoulder blade. His other arm he tucked under my legs, sitting me up in one motion that was far less painful than I’d imagined it would be. Leaning my back against the headboard, he placed a pillow behind my shoulders and repositioned the icepack before turning to the nightstand and bringing a glass to my lips.
I tried to lift my good arm, but he gently wrapped a hand around mine, pressing it into my lap as he tipped the water into my mouth. I gulped down the entire contents without protest, not bothering to come up for air until he was taking the glass away.
He refilled it twice more and I drank just as greedily—until my stomach hurt and I couldn’t drink any more.
Setting down the glass, he wiped my bottom lip with his thumb. “You must be dehydrated,” he said, hand traveling to my temple. “Are you dizzy?”
I shook my head and the room spun so I stopped.
“Maybe a little,” he surmised.
I didn’t answer.
After a while, he let his hand drop and we were silent. I glanced towards the window and saw that it was now dark. It had only felt like I was out for a few minutes, but it had been half a day at least.
“I was hoping you’d sleep a while longer,” he said. “I had to reset your shoulder and collarbone.”
I stared down at the portion of the ice bag I could see.
“Other than that, is the pain manageable?”
I nodded but barely felt it. The drug he’d given me must have still been in my system. I still felt heavy and detached.
“I gave you a strong dose, but if you need more I can give it to you.”
I stared directly at him. Why did he suddenly care about my pain? Why did it matter?
Master Lyon looked away at first, eyes trained on the ice lying on my chest. The robe had opened a fraction and revealed the bandage there. “I’m afraid the scar won’t be as pretty this time.”
If I wasn’t so out of it, I would have laughed. Instead, I said, “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter where I’m going.” My throat was raw, but the end of the sentence disappeared altogether, not wanting to give voice to the truth.
He bit his lip and clenched his jaw. I could tell he was thinking deeply, but I couldn’t begin to guess what about. Finally, he whispered, “I wouldn’t have agreed to a transfer if there was another way.”
I laughed silently, no humor in sight.
“Look at me,” he ordered, but his words no longer held the same force they once had. I ignored him, tracing the wrinkles in the comforter instead.
He came closer, hands on either side of my face as he slowly turned it in his direction. I wanted to resist, but it was less painful to let him guide me where he wanted. His eyes searched my face like they weren’t sure where to settle.
“I’m not your enemy, Fawn,” he said, a hard edge to his tone.
Tears abruptly threatened the back of my throat. “Don’t.”
He softly kissed my forehead and despite how badly I wanted to hate it, I couldn’t help finding comfort in the gesture. When he pulled away, he let me go. “Are you hungry?”
The shield was back up, all indications of his concern vanished.
My stomach felt hollow at the question and I wanted to deny it. He didn’t wait for an answer as he stood and left the room.
I heard him walk down the stairs and then it was silent. I counted to sixty before I heard him on the stairs again and he reappeared through the door, carrying a tray the way Mr. B would.
He set it on the nightstand and uncovered the plate. Instantly, the smell of chicken soup filled my nostrils and made me salivate.
“Before he left, Marius made this for us.” He said like it was something remarkable; maybe in his world it was. He held a steaming bowl in his hands and stirred it with the spoon absentmindedly as he watched my reaction. “Do you want some?” he asked, spooning some into his own mouth.
There was only one bowl that I could see; he expected us to share it.
I nodded when he looked at me.
“Use your words, Doe,” he said, back to the Owner I had come to know so well—or thought I knew well at least. “We don’t want to make that a habit.”
I exhaled. I didn’t want his fucking soup and I didn’t want his fucking rules. I wanted to cram that spoon down his goddamn throat. “Screw you.”
He shrugged, took another bite, and chewed deliberately before finally swallowing. “You must be hungry.”
I was, and my stomach ached so badly I felt it in my throat. But I wasn’t about to beg him. He’d already taken enough from me—more than I’d ever thought possible.
He came closer, sitting on the bed so the bowl was closer and I could smell the food that much more. “You need to eat,” he said, the spoon clanking in the bowl as his tone turned more serious. “I’ll talk to you if you give me what I want.”
I couldn’t figure out why this was so important to him, but the only thing I could think of was that he needed to reassert our roles, make sure that just because I had almost been free didn’t mean anything had changed between us.
But he knew how to get me to do what he wanted. He knew how to give me false control over a situation so I didn’t feel like I was completely bowing down to him. He always dangled something in front of me that was worth my while.
I swallowed the lump that had settled in my aching chest. “May I please have some soup, sir?”
Master Lyon smiled knowingly, arrogantly as he looked up from the bowl. “You may, Doe.”
I wanted to flip the soup over in his lap but I was far too hungry to entertain the notion.
I tried lifting my good arm but he stopped me the same as before and then spooned up some of the liquid and blew on it. He cupped a palm underneath as the bowl rested between his thighs and the spoon moved closer to my mouth. “Open,” he ordered.
I parted my lips without dwelling on the fact that he had to feed me. He gave me a few spoonfuls, which I greedily swallowed, before I began to grow impatient, finally lifting my eyes to look at him—I’d been staring at my lap this entire time.
He was staring right at me—probably had been all the while, eyes scrutinizing something in me that I couldn’t guess. He scooped up more soup and held it in front of me. “Finish first,” he said, reading my thoughts.
I did as he asked, eagerly taking what he offered, chewing, and swallowing until the bowl was empty.
“Full?” he asked. “I could get you more.”
I felt exhausted, the act of eating too much for me in my current state—or perhaps it was due to the drugs still flowing through my veins. “Yes, sir,” I answered. “No, thank you, sir.”
He nodded once before setting the bowl back on the tray. My eyes followed him as he stood and drew the curtains behind the bed. I could only guess he did this so he would have something to do; it was dark out and there was nothing to see but the forest beyond.
“Odette isn’t…” He paused as he turned towards me, contemplating how to say it. “She was free when Master Jäger took her.”
I could only stare at him. What exactly was he saying?
“He is using her to bargain with,” he continued. “If I could find someone suitable, he would trade her back to me.”
I exhaled sharply. Glass filled my lungs. “And you chose me.”
“He chose you.”
I could feel my pul
se starting to quicken and I struggled to keep it under control.
He sat beside me, smoothing his palms over his thighs. “He took her over a year ago,” he said. “She was out with friends when his men stole her from me, and I’ve spent every day since trying to infiltrate your Compound. He said if I could find you, he would return Odette unharmed.”
“Why is she so important?” I asked. “Because you freed her and gave her your last name? Made her someone higher than me? Don’t want to soil your name by letting him have her?” The questions streamed from my mouth and it took great effort to make them stop.
Why did he need her when he had bought me? What did this other girl have that I didn’t? What did she give him that I was unable to provide?
He swallowed hard. When he finally looked at me, guilt I didn’t believe he was capable of feeling was behind his eyes.
“She is my wife, Doe. Not only in name. I…” His words became strangled. “I love her.”
I wanted to feel bad for him, but all I could think about was what it meant for me.
“So you decided to trade her suffering for mine,” I spat.
He clenched his jaw and was silent. “I have no choice.”
I wanted to argue that he did, but I knew that it wasn’t the truth. Master Jäger was the only person I knew that could accomplish something like this. The only one who could strike such fear into an Owner that he would break the rules to please him. Elliot was scared. I could see that now. He didn’t want this any more than I did, but it did nothing to extinguish my rage at how rational he thought this decision was.
“I don’t give a shit about some stupid game men like you play, trapping anyone in the middle as long as you’re entertained.”
He let out a breath and moved even closer to me. “We’re on the same side,” he said. “You, me, and Odette.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. If I didn’t I would completely fall apart. “You want me to believe that.”
I could see that he was biting the inside of his cheek, debating whether he should lie more. “Fine.”
It sounded like he was speaking to himself.
He repositioned as if it would help him communicate better. His arms were on either side of my legs now, face closer to mine than necessary. “We are from the same place, Fawn,” he nearly whispered. “All of us.”
I could feel my eyes widen even though I didn’t fully understand what he meant.
“I was born to a woman who sold me to a boys’ Compound. I was then purchased by a man who was the highest Member in France at the time at the age of six.”
I shook my head. There was no way this was true. I refused to believe it.
One of his palms gently cupped my cheek, halting my movement and reminding me of the ache in my neck.
“His name was Quentin Lyon, and he gave me the name of ‘worm’.” He said this as if just stating information, but his expression made it seem like it meant more. Like he felt the same way about that name as I did ‘dog’. “I was owned by him for my entire childhood and for many years into my adulthood.” Master Lyon let go of my face. He seemed like he was still looking at me, but his gaze was far away. He wasn’t even in the same room. “He was an awful man who had sadistic tastes. The scars on my body are exclusively from him, and when he was tired of me he moved on to another boy, leaving me to take care of them when he was done.”
I wanted to curl in on myself. I didn’t want to believe any of this. It couldn’t be where this man came from. But the look in his eyes said something. He’d seen worse than I ever had.
My Owner cleared his throat. “I got out of Ownership in his later years. He’d been diagnosed with terminal cancer and I did everything to convince him that I loved him—that he loved me back.”
He looked absolutely disgusted and I could only imagine all the things he had to do and endure to accomplish this.
“In the end,” he said, “I was sixteen when he adopted me as his son and sole heir. He died a month later.”
I couldn’t look at him. I didn’t know what I was supposed to see if I did.
“I had since worked on buying girls and then ‘transferring’ them to Safehouses disguised as Suitors’ estates. I didn’t want anyone else to suffer as I had.” He readjusted his posture, perhaps realizing he’d been too close for too long.
He turned away, pretending to look out the window behind the bed and see something. “That was how I met Odette.” He was quiet, like it hurt too much to say her name louder. “Together, we infiltrated Compounds, estates, and parties, secretly laying groundwork for others to rescue girls and boys all over the world.”
His jaw flexed and his shoulders tensed. “We were caught at one of Jäger’s events by the man himself, asking his girls too many questions and raising his suspicions.”
I’d always thought he was blacklisted. How had he purchased not only one, but multiple girls again? “Girls?”
Master Lyon glanced at me as if he had forgotten I was listening. “Yes. He’s been stealing them from others. The same way he stole her.”
I was quiet, unable to say anything else.
“He had armed men, an arsenal of weapons. And he locked her away, telling me he would release her if I made a deal with him. I would get my wife back and he wouldn’t expose our operation.”
I was shaking my head again, neck sore and the rest of my body trembling. “Stop,” I said, louder than I’d meant. “Please, please stop lying to me.”
It would be better that way. It would be better if he was merely trading me back to the Wolf for his own selfish benefit. Anything but this.
He stared at me; he looked unsurprised that I didn’t believe him. “We were meant to appear at his estate a week from now, but you’ve set us back at least a month. I can’t transfer you if you’re damaged.” The words he spoke were clinical, but the tone was anything but. The contrast was more than confusing.
“Right. Intact, trained, and pure. That was the agreement, wasn’t it?”
My Owner sighed.
I stared at my knees; I didn’t have anything to say to him.
“I’m not going to leave you there,” he said after so long I thought he’d finished talking.
I looked back up at him.
“It was never my plan to leave you under his Ownership,” he said softly, not meeting my eyes. “There just isn’t a clear time frame of when I can get you back. We can’t risk exposure and we can’t just leave with you.”
“So you’ll leave me there anyway.” Not like I’d ever had hope of being rescued.
He folded his hands in his lap. “Just until we can find a way to free you.” But there was no conviction there. We. He and his wife. Something told me that once he had her back—someone he at least cared deeply for and who he said he loved—it wouldn’t matter what happened to me. Once he left me in the hands of my old Owner, it would be like shutting the door on a period of his life he didn’t want to remember. In time, I would be less than a memory.
“No,” I said, all of the information too much. If he was in fact on my side, then why did I still feel the sting of betrayal?
Because he cares for that woman more than you, a voice whispered in the back of my mind. You are nothing, and soon you’ll be no better than a neglected dog again.
I didn’t know how I did it, but I had slipped around him, my feet on the floor as I tried to struggle out of bed. Immediate shockwaves of pain radiated through my ribs and chest, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t even sure what I was trying to accomplish, but all I knew was that I couldn’t just lie here and listen to him for one more second.
His hands were on my forearms—one of the safest places he could restrain me—as he leaned me back towards the bed. “You need to relax,” he said as I fought against him with newfound strength.
I growled and screamed as I tried batting him away, not caring when I only caused myself more pain.
“You think you can just use me like some kind of currency,” I yelled as he stood to p
ush me into the mattress. He lost sight of himself for a second and came too close, but it was enough to become within reach of my mouth so I could bite the exposed skin of his upper arm. I bit down until I tasted blood.
“Be still, Fawn,” he said as my head hit the pillow with too much force, oxygen leaving my lungs and too much for my shoulder and collarbone to take.
“Fuck you,” I spat, then actually spit into his face, saliva landing square on his cheek. “You think you’re helping us?” I shrieked, his blood still metallic on my tongue. “You’re only continuing everything they stand for. You’re no better than any other man in the Order.”
He was holding both of my arms in one of his large palms, now pressing them into my abdomen as the other moved to the mattress beneath me. I didn’t know what he was doing and I didn’t care.
“Fuck you and fuck your wife,” I said as he paused to wipe the spit from his face.
Then I felt him wrapping something around my wrist, which pinned it to the bed. I fought against him just to make his job more difficult—I knew I wasn’t getting away. Soon, he had done the same to my other arm and my legs, the comforter on the floor, the bag of ice open and leaking on the hardwood. We were both panting, unable to speak.
Master Lyon wiped a hand down his face, turning from me as I caught my breath, each one sending stabs of pain into my lungs. I coughed a few times to alleviate it, but that only made things worse. Everything hurt so much more now and I was sure I had done it to myself. It didn’t matter. For a little while longer, my body was mine and I could damage it as much as I wanted until I was yet again someone else’s property.
“Why wait so long?” I croaked. It hurt even more to speak. He ran a hand through his hair, which had become loose in our scuffle. “Why not,” I had to pause to breathe through the pain, “just take me straight to him when you bought me?”
The restraints around my limbs were just tight enough to make my skin tingle with awareness. There was no use wondering if they’d hold.
He licked his lips as he brought his darkened eyes back to me. “Because I didn’t want to.” His words held too much bite and I think he realized this too; his face briefly twisted with a wince.