But Wulf was his slave. His own by choice. He could tell him everything. He wanted to. The ghost of his heart was already revived. He could tell him that. But perhaps not in those particular words.
Locke had tasted the elixir of eager slaves, wrestled with the sad ones, clinked wine glasses with the dejected ones, spent all night fucking sessions with the insatiable ones. He’d drowned in pillows of pleasure until he could not breathe.
When he became an Eminent Master all that stopped. It wasn’t required that he stop his hands-on training, it was a choice. He still took on trainees, but he had other trainers handle them physically. He directed, he taught, he watched. He had asked himself why he stopped having physical sex with his trainees about a million times. All he could think was that it had become such a routine for him, and only deepened some inner longing he could never define.
Surrounded by people and sex, he had not thought of himself as lonely.
Not until Wulf fell into his arms. Standing before him in the training room alcove, pink in the cheeks, the blush spreading in a lovely oblong pattern on his chest, Wulf looked helpless and ready to fight and vulnerable and wanting all at once. And oh, so desirable.
Locke had to get his nervous slave in hand.
He loved watching the blues of Wulf’s eyes darken with emotion. Emotion Wulf pretended not to have. Everything in Locke stirred for this man.
A half-step back and Locke picked up Wulf’s leash, handing it to him.
The slave stood motionless before him, towel hanging in front of his groin.
“Come,” Locke said in his most commanding tone. But he kept his voice soft.
Deciding Wulf would follow, for he always did now even when Locke had told him his collar was off, he turned and walked out of the alcove and into the din and crowd of masters and slaves.
So many naked bodies, so much beauty. Locke never tired of the sight. But as he’d grown older, he was quickened by other things: an autumn leaf falling against a clear blue sky, the sculpture gardens on Halloween, a long novel about reluctant princes and asshole kings, his own deep dreams, which he could almost touch but left him reaching blindly for his tossed off blankets.
Could he ever confess that to his slave?
He moved quickly past the stage with the throngs of slaves waiting in line for something—a turn to prance and preen on high for there was some kind of show being put on center-stage right now.
Locke kept his gaze fixed on the ornate double doors. He could feel Wulf behind him, probably still carrying his beloved cleansing towel. Wulf who was heart-stopping in his innocence and beauty, and who had cried for a cock-cage.
Wulf was his now, if only he could make him believe. The thought sent shocks of pleasure through his veins. His balls twitched. His cock was already hard and had been for some time.
The double doors opened. Through the hallways, ignoring his peers and their slaves, Locke walked, Wulf trailing behind him.
He wished he could see the image of his fantastic and magnificent naked slave following him. The one who, at first, had been so angry. So fierce.
And oh, Wulf was still fierce.
Wulf was only just getting started in his training.
Locke wanted to make him show that strength. All the time. Locke loved that about him almost as much as his sweet outrage, and his firm golden ass and big cock.
Locke led Wulf back to his slave suite. It was still early, but Wulf deserved a break.
Wulf looked at him with questions as they walked into Wulf’s room, but remained quiet.
“You may shower if you like,” Locke told him. “You may watch a movie. I have some things to attend to, and then I will return.”
Relief made Wulf’s eyes soften. He nodded, his mouth set into a firm line.
“Relax,” Locke added. “That’s an order. I’m not leaving you. But I must attend to a matter.”
Wulf nodded and turned toward the bathroom.
Locke left and locked the room with a new personal code. Next, Locke grabbed his tablet from his belt and turned it on as he walked. A few quick touches to the screen and he had completed his task.
He gave a verbal order to his tablet and it replied with the desired response. He moved toward the masters’ general viewing rooms.
In less than a minute, he arrived. He was not surprised at what greeted him.
“I knew I’d find you here, Malik.” Locke strode forward to view the screen Malik was so intent on.
Malik turned abruptly. To cover his surprise, he sent Locke a lazy smile. A cigarette glowed at the edges of Malik’s thumb and forefinger. Malik always held his cigarettes that way, as if he wanted them to burn down until they touched the skin.
“What are you doing?” Locke asked, even though he already knew the answer.
It was not forbidden for other masters to view any slave from this area, but Locke had had Wulf’s on a private setting. That meant Malik had hacked them. He had the skill. The Palace tech might not have thought to mention it if he’d found the cameras accessed from the main area. The question they’d investigated was that the cameras had been turned off, not that they’d been viewed from other areas.
Wulf’s rooms showed in full color on two large screens from two different angles. The slave paced before the long front windows of the living area, turning occasionally to look out. The afternoon had grown overcast. The city far below Palace grounds looked dusty, unkempt. The glittering jewels of nighttime lights were gone during the day, making it all far too ordinary.
“Looking at your prize,” Malik replied. “I am allowed, aren’t I? He is certainly no secret you are keeping.”
Wulf had taken off his leash. It hung on its special hook by the bed. He moved about the room, exuding restlessness. Locke couldn’t help but note the natural grace of the man, how he moved cat-like with perfect posture and form.
“This is a private setting you’re using. Mine. These cameras in Wulf’s room are not public slave cameras.”
“I know that. But we’re friends. I didn’t think you’d mind so much if I looked for a minute. Pardon me.”
“Checking up on him?”
Malik spread his hands as if surrendering to Locke’s position as Eminent Master. As well he should, Locke thought.
Malik said, “Just wanted to see how things were going.”
“Yes, our friendly wager. Did you spy upon the two of us in the training room as well?”
Malik smiled. “I’m no stalker.”
“I disagree.”
“What?” Malik’s lips made an exaggerated pout.
Locke held out the tablet he carried. “I have taken the liberty of transferring the wager from our bet into your account.”
Malik took the tablet from his hand and looked down. “Money? You paid me the money from our bet already? So sure you’ve already lost, eh?”
“Yes. I am. So you can stop spying.”
“I wasn’t spying—“
“Oh, yes,” Locke interrupted. “One more thing. It is against Palace law to let yourself into a slave’s quarters without permission from the primary master. But in this case, I’m not just Wulf’s master, I’m his owner.”
“I have no idea—“
“And tampering with camera footage. That’s a premeditated act of trespassing. Trespassing on my property.”
“I didn’t—“
“I always suspected you had visited Wulf. When I found your cigarette stub was when I became more sure, but I didn’t want to believe it of a man I thought was my friend. What did you say to him? Did you dare to touch him?”
Malik raised an eyebrow.
Shaking his head, Locke said, “I’ve known you forever, it seems. Malik, we were friends.”
“We still are. It was just a friendly wager, that’s all, and he’s just a One-Night Thrall. You yourself said you’ve already lost our bet. You can’t tame him. It’s impossible. So you can’t really be mad at me.”
“Hmm.” Locke nodded. “Technically,
you sabotaged the bet. But I’m still paying you. I’m gentlemanly enough to do that.”
Malik’s eyelids lowered. His lips firmed. “You don’t have to.“
“Oh? And by the way. You’re fired.”
“You can’t—“
“I can. I’m Eminent Master here and I sit on the board. At the head of the table. They will not defy me if I put it to a vote. So you can wait until it’s official and public, or you can pack your things now and leave quietly.”
New fury lit Malik’s gaze. His mouth curled into a grimace. “You can’t do that!”
“I just did.”
Malik hissed, then threw Locke’s tablet to the floor. It rattled on the tile, but did not break in its case.
The last Locke saw of him, he pounded the doorframe on his way out.
Silently, Locke turned toward the screens where Wulf paced.
Malik, whatever he had done, had damaged his slave. It explained why Wulf couldn’t hear him every time he told him he had no intention of selling him. Wulf’s trust had been hard won the first few days, but Malik’s visit was a set-back. He believed everything before and after Malik was a trick for some cruel wager.
Locke had caught this error early enough to fix it. But it should never have happened in the first place.
As Locke watched, Wulf ‘s pacing slowed. He approached the bed and sat.
Finally, he lifted his legs onto the bed and leaned back. When he reached for the remote to turn on the TV, something Locke had never seen him do on his own, Locke nodded.
“Good boy,” he said. His slave was adjusting to his new environment.
Chapter Twenty - Wulf
Wulf started to rise from the bed as the door opened. In the waning afternoon light, he watched Locke enter. His heart beat in his throat. Locke’s form, straight-lined, tall, with waves of brown hair about his ears and the back of his neck, drew him. Locke had mesmerized Wulf from the first time he had seen him. The man exuded an energy that Wulf’s body instantly responded to.
The proof had happened only a short time ago in the alcove. Wulf wanted to stay at the Palace now. And if he was going to stay, he wanted it to be with Locke.
He muted the TV and set the remote at his side.
Locke held up his hand as Wulf started to climb out of the bed. “Stay.”
Wulf scooted back, unsure, the covers pooling in his lap.
“I’m sorry I messed up,” Wulf said.
He was not lying this time. Fear of doing wrong, or being cast out now that he had decided to stay was part of it, but now that he was more relaxed, he could finally admit to himself that his attraction to Locke, and his true desire to please the man—the master—prompted his apology.
“You did not mess up at all. But it is as if my words fall on deaf ears, Wulf. I told you about the lesson in trust. I then told you you did well.”
Wulf lowered his head. It was hard for him to believe Locke because to Wulf’s perception, he had lost control, he had messed the spread on the bed, and the feeling of loss within was just too strong.
Without another word, Locke came to the bed and sat on the edge. He bent.
Silently, Wulf watched him, and knew what he was doing though he could not see his hands. Locke was taking off his shoes.
Wulf had spent the past hour worrying about tricks and lies, but this man did not seem the type to resort to that. Eminent Master—that label meant something. It meant he’d earned the title. He had not lied or schemed or faked his way to it.
If Wulf could only get his emotional mind to believe his rational mind, he might be able to believe, to trust.
Everything Locke had told him indicated things were fine. Wulf was safe.
When Locke leaned back, lifting his legs onto the mattress, it was Wulf’s turn to be surprised as Locke said, “I’m sorry you thought I was going to sell you.”
“Malik told me—“
“I know,” he interrupted. “I was unfair. I wasn’t clear about you myself at first. That’s my failure.”
“I’ll go back to the training room tomorrow. I promise I’ll do better. I promise I’ll—“ Wulf’s words left him as his throat closed up.
“We’ll not go back to the training room again.”
Wulf’s heart fell. It was all a waste then, everything. He had failed, just as he had his whole life.
“No,” Locke said, and his face was right near the side of Wulf’s jaw. “Don’t look like that. Don’t. It’s all right.”
“I’m not going to get another chance?” Wulf asked shakily.
To Wulf’s dismay, Locke smiled.
“I fired Malik.”
Wulf leaned forward, looking intently into Locke’s eyes.
Locke’s smile dropped. He sighed. “Tell me, and please be honest. Did he touch you?”
Wulf gulped. “I am a slave. Does it matter?”
“You are my slave. Do you understand that? And it does matter to me that he hurt you.”
“Is this why you won’t take me back to the training room?”
“No.” Locke took a deep breath, reached out to Wulf and touched him on the shoulder. “I only want to know if you are all right.”
No one had ever asked Wulf such a question. Not when he was fighting and hurt, not when he felt bad, never. In Rille it was considered a weakness to admit to pain or emotional instability over any event. Even grief was shunted aside, allowed to manifest for perhaps a week at most. After that, it was back to life and work as usual.
“He did put his hands on me.” Now Wulf’s voice shook. “Here and here.” He indicated his stomach, and his head. “He didn’t physically hurt me until--.” A long pause. “But he told me you were tricking me. That you wanted to earn my trust for the bet and then, when you won, you would sell me.”
Slowly, Locke put his arm over Wulf’s shoulders.
“And when you put your hands up to defend yourself from him?”
“He had attached the leash. I didn’t know it. He yanked on it and—“
“I’m so sorry, Wulf. He’s gone now. I sent him away. Can you believe me? Can you understand now that I have no intention of selling you?”
Wulf was quiet as he contemplated everything that had happened. It made sense that Malik would lie. Locke had a look in his eye Wulf could not deny. Open. Pensive. Unyielding in its longing. A hunger Wulf instinctively gravitated to.
“I want to believe you,” Wulf said quietly.
“Then we will work on that. All right?”
Wulf frowned. “How? You just said you won’t let me train.”
“I only said we won’t go back to the training room. We’ll train here. Privately. There’s simply no need to go to the public classes, the alcoves, the stage. You aren’t to be sold. You’re mine. Do you understand? You’re mine.”
“Train? Here?”
Locke’s lashes made shadows on his cheeks as he closed his eyes halfway. “If you would have me.”
What a strange way for a master to phrase his desire to a slave. “I? Have you?”
“Yes.” Locke nodded. “That’s exactly what I said.”
“After everything you—you would—would want me?”
“I always have.”
Locke smelled of rich spices from a foreign island, and warmth, almost sweet.
“But the question has been and always will be, do you want me?” Locke finished.
What was Locke asking?
“I am a slave. I signed consent forms. I don’t get to have a choice,” Wulf said.
“With me you do get a choice.”
Wulf looked up into his face shadowed by the fall of his brown hair. But there was plenty of light in the room to see his dark eyes. Locke’s eyes. Smiling at Wulf though his lips remained in a serious and straight line.
“Could you want me?” Locke asked again, voice so serious and low it vibrated all the way through Wulf’s body.
“In my secret dreams and thoughts I do--,” he gulped. “I have desired you.”
&
nbsp; Locke turned slightly so that their bodies faced each other.
“Really? It has not seemed obvious to me. I bought you because you combined everything I’ve wanted in a man. Strength. Ferocity. Beauty. Hopelessness. Even if you always hated me, I didn’t care. I needed to save you.”
“So it wasn’t just starting with the bet?”
“No. It was before the bet. Malik saw my reaction to you in my face. He took that as an opportunity and made the wager. I was just drunk enough to accept. But that wasn’t why I bought you.”
Wulf realized if Locke had told him this days ago, even before Malik’s visit, he could not have heard him. He could not have understood, but now the words meant everything to him.
“I’m curious. When did you start to notice—any attraction?” Locke asked.
“For you?” Wulf started to feel shy again.
Locke nodded. “Please. If what you say is true—“
“Since I fell off the stage.” Wulf wanted to smile. It was hard. Those muscles hadn’t worked for him in a long, long time. Smiling was for simpletons and children. But also, he knew deep inside in his heart that had hurt for so long, smiling was for lovers.
A warmth suffused Wulf’s eyes.
“Then as my first training order to you, put your arms around me and see if that might feel all right.”
He knew it would feel more than all right. It couldn’t be otherwise. Locke was his master, but there had always been more. Wulf liked, in this moment, that Locke had given him an order. He quickened at the idea that he didn’t have to worry that his actions and feelings might be wrong. The fact that Locke gave an order took his old inhibitions away and replaced them with a strange and wonderful yearning.
Wulf raised his arms. Up and out. He leaned into the warmth before he felt Locke’s body against him, the black-shirted chest and arms.
He wasn’t sure how to do this, whether he should put his arms under the other man’s arms or over his shoulders. But instinct took over. He knew what he would like, how he would like to feel to have a man against him, in his arms. He wanted to push his way under Locke’s arms, lower his head, touch his cheek to his neck.
The Slave Palace: Wulf and Locke (Kingdom of Slaves Book 1) Page 17