Bloom: A Dark Romance (The Order, 1) Page 12
The blond sat in an armchair to my right, closer to the fireplace than me and thankfully blocking some of its searing heat. He had a drink in his hand, already too comfortable for my liking. “It’s nice to finally see you in person, Elliot.” The man had an accent but my brain wouldn’t focus enough to decipher where it was from. I was too stuck on my master’s first name. The man’s eyes shifted to me. “And so…content.”
That was an odd way of putting things.
Master Lyon took his seat by me again, a drink in his hand as well. I didn’t look at him, but I could hear the ice in his glass and smell the sharp scent of alcohol. “I’ve finally found a girl suited to my interests.” His hand found the crown of my head. It seemed as though he was trying to soothe me, put me at ease in front of this stranger, but I wouldn’t let myself believe it.
The man gave him a pointed look before he turned his gaze to me again. I wouldn’t look away. Whoever this was, I wouldn’t show him I was afraid. He grinned. “Is she really the one who destroyed Master Jäger?” He directed the question to the man beside me, but his eyes didn’t leave my face, my body.
“Yes,” Monsieur Lyon answered.
The other man laughed. “You’ve always had a self destructive streak.” He took a huge gulp of the amber liquid in his glass.
“And you’ve always been too nosy for your own good.”
The man lowered his drink, serious now.
“So,” my new Owner continued. “You’ve seen her. Satisfied?”
The man finished his alcohol and stood. “I don’t believe it’s her.” He chuckled to himself. “From what I’ve heard, she’s quite unmanageable.” His grin grew even wider. “I’m sure you enjoy the challenge, and if anyone can tame the animal, it’s you. Still, I doubt she could have changed her behavior so drastically in only a few days.”
The hand on top of my head became heavier as he grew angry. He still managed to keep his voice cool and even when he replied, “You doubt my ability to train girls now?” He moved so quickly that I didn’t know what he was doing until it was already happening. He ripped the dress from under my knees, exposing the welts and deep bruises on my thighs and for once uncaring of how much skin he was showing.
Rather than be shocked, he studied the marks—all of them, old and new, scars and otherwise—as if taking them all in. “Of course not, Elliot,” he said, glancing at my Owner. “You’ve never failed to amaze me. That was what I meant.”
Though from the outside, it seemed like two people having a playful conversation, I could tell that on some level the stranger was afraid of Master Lyon. My heart swelled with relief; it could have been worse for me if it was the other way around.
“Je pense qu'il a besoin d'une démonstration, Biche.” I think he needs a demonstration, Doe.
My heart plummeted to my belly and my mouth went dry. I didn’t want to find out how he would achieve this; what he would make me do. Was a beating worth all of the willfulness I could theoretically display if he tried to push me too far?
“Crawl to Monsieur Fabian, retrieve his glass, and give it to me.”
It took me half a second to realize he was asking me to do this. He patted my head to encourage me, but I could feel the message in the gesture: do not disobey me.
Slowly, I rose on my knees, unsure of how I would accomplish this task without the use of arms.
“She can’t possibly crawl like that,” the man said, stating what I’d thought out loud.
“She’s a clever one,” Master Lyon replied. “I’m sure she’s capable of figuring out a way to best please me.”
His words made me want to simultaneously retch and roll my eyes. This was some kind of contest for them. It made me sick.
“Continue, Biche,” he urged. Go on, Doe.
I did the only thing I could: I crawled without my hands. At first, I tried to move forward, but the dress shifted and caught under me, tugging at the already too revealing neckline and making my thighs sting. But then I quickly found a way to inch towards the man without moving the dress too much and using my knees to keep it out of the way. When I was finally in front of him, I turned around, hoping he would deposit the glass in my hands. No such luck.
I stared at my new Owner across the room. He raised an eyebrow and gave me a smile that almost looked…proud. It only made me want to get this over with sooner.
Carefully, I rose to my feet and backed up a little more, stretching out my fingers as much as I could so the man would get the hint.
Still nothing. What did he expect me to do?
I looked at Master Lyon again, questioning.
He laughed. “Don’t tease the girl, Gregor,” he said to the man behind me.
Gregor laughed too. “Couldn’t resist.”
Then, thankfully, I felt the glass’ smooth surface in my hands and I wrapped my fingers around it like I was a beggar and it was made of pure gold.
Lowering myself back to the ground, I repeated the same process of kneel-crawling, turning, and standing to present my Owner with the glass. He took it quickly from my sweaty palms and I almost as quickly returned to my fully knelt position next to his leg, feeling safer on the ground than standing.
His hand found my hair once more, gently stroking. “Well done,” he complimented.
The man started a slow clap, grinning. “Well done indeed,” he said to my Owner and only my Owner. “I’m excited to see what else she can do.”
A lump formed in my throat and sank into my chest. I thought after this little display, there was a chance the evening’s entertainment was over.
“Maybe some other time,” Master Lyon said, filling me with instant relief. It seemed that he wanted this man gone almost as much as I did.
Gregor gave him an exaggerated pout. “One more drink?”
My Owner’s hand stilled in my hair. “One.”
He stood with the man’s glass and left the room.
I expected to be at ease as soon as he was gone—only being alone with one man instead of two—but I only felt more exposed. More vulnerable without the master of the house by my side to fill the silence and distract this man that would not stop staring at me.
Gregor smiled as he moved from the armchair and came closer. I didn’t move. He knelt in front of me, hands between his legs like a scientist studying a lab monkey in a cage. “You are one lucky girl,” he murmured, his breath thick with alcohol. Maybe he had been drinking since he arrived and I’d only seen him drain one glass. I nearly gagged when his hand touched my knee. When I didn’t move, he said, “You certainly are a well-trained little slut.”
Then his other hand was on my other knee. I knew what he was doing: trying to prove my Owner wrong. He wanted to show him that as soon as he wasn’t around, I would revert to my old ways. Something in me didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. I wanted to disappoint him more than I wanted to run away.
His eyes narrowed at my lack of response. Without another word, he pushed the dress up until my thighs were exposed, my scars and the new angry marks along with them. “This makes things a bit clearer, no?”
Then without warning, he pried my legs apart with such force that I nearly fell over. Instinct kicked in. In this moment, I didn’t care if my Owner punished me into paralysis. I had to do everything in my power to get away.
“Now, now,” he cooed, one hand pinning my shoulders to the foot of the sofa and the other still roaming where it shouldn’t belong.
“Stop,” I whispered. “Please stop.” I couldn’t find it in me to add a “sir”. I had already disobeyed. I didn’t care about formalities.
He chuckled low in his throat as he cupped me between my legs, sending me into complete panic.
I struggled as hard as I could to scramble away, but it only made me more unbalanced, which made him hold onto me firmer—in both places.
“Please,” I whispered pathetically. I hated myself for being so helpless. I had already earned a beating anyway. Might as well make it count.
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nbsp; As quickly as I could, I kicked my legs out from under me, which made him slip and have to remove his hands so he wouldn’t fall. My aim had been directed at his crotch, but I had failed to kick him there. However, when he braced himself he also moved his face closer to mine. With my legs useless and my arms quite literally tied, I moved faster than he could register and bit down on his exposed throat so hard I tasted blood.
Of course I expected retaliation of some sort, but as he wrenched himself away and was raising his fist to slap me across the face, Master Lyon had returned, grabbing his wrist before the blow was fully formed.
“That is enough, Gregor,” he said in an even tone. “Kneel, Doe,” he instructed me, only glancing in my direction when I didn’t immediately comply.
Tears threatened to flood my eyes as I took up my previous position. He let go of the man’s wrist and helped him to his feet. The drink sat on the coffee table, condensation dripping onto the surface. When I looked at the man’s neck, I was disappointed he wasn’t gushing blood. Only a mild irritation showed itself.
“I think it’s time you head back,” my Owner said when the silence stretched for too long.
“I just wanted to make sure it was her,” the man said in his defense, fixing his jacket and rubbing the side of his neck.
My new Owner’s eyes darkened. “Now you know.” His voice was so cold even I felt it and it hadn’t been directed at me. Not yet.
Gregor laughed even though there was nothing funny. “All right, all right,” he said. “I can tell when I’ve outstayed my welcome, and you certainly have your hands full. I can’t wait to see even better results a few months from now.” He grinned entirely at me. “You should come see mine sometime.” His eyes lingered on me before he looked at my Owner again. “I’ve had her a few years. I’m sure this one can learn a thing or two from her.”
Master Lyon didn’t say anything for the longest time; he merely nodded before saying, “You know the way out.”
Gregor returned his nod, finally giving up on trying to talk himself out of the situation and back into his drink. “See you soon,” he said as his heavy footsteps retreated from the room.
My Owner waited until we both heard the front door close before he closed in on me. I recoiled instantaneously, fearing the worst. “I’m sorry, sir,” I blathered, trying to make my fate somehow less severe. “I didn’t mean to. I-I—”
“Assez,” he said calmly. Enough. “Stand.”
I snapped my mouth closed and did as he asked, my legs shaking. He sighed heavily as he began to undo all of the clasps and buckles holding my arms behind my back. When the metal around my neck was finally removed, I couldn’t help the relived breath that left my lungs.
He set the contraption aside on the sofa, the metal parts clinking against each other. “You can speak now,” he said like it mattered, like I hadn’t already disobeyed him by speaking before he said so. “Did he hurt you?”
I blinked a few times, caught off guard at the question. “No, sir,” I answered, already defeated.
Master Lyon stared at me a long time, jaw working as he fixed the sleeve of my dress so it sat properly on my shoulder. “Did he touch you?”
Fists at my sides, the circulation returning to my fingers, I nodded.
“Where?”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to say it out loud, but I was already in enough trouble. “Between my legs, sir.” I couldn’t look at him after I said it, and he was quick to tilt my head back up with a finger under my chin.
“Did he enter you?”
My stomach became lead. My blood became ice. “No, sir.”
His eyes scanned my body before he let go of me. “Show me what he did,” he instructed. “Over your clothes.”
I had to draw my knees together to keep them from buckling. “Please, sir,” I begged in a whisper. “I…I can’t.”
He seemed to realize—and to my shock, care—that he was making me uncomfortable. His eyes softened. “Come with me then,” he said, gently grabbing hold of my wrist. I tried to pull away, convinced I could negotiate my way out of this.
“I didn’t mean to bite him,” I blurted out. “I didn’t know what else to do and h-he just wouldn’t stop and—”
“Enough,” he repeated for the third time, calm and even. He let go and came closer. “You did well, Doe. Gregor is an arrogant little prick. I would have bitten him too.”
I didn’t understand. He sounded proud of me, congratulatory even. Was I supposed to hurt this man or was he simply pleased I had done it?
He answered my silent question. “You aren’t in trouble, ma petite.”
Everything within me had been tightly coiled but now it all relaxed at his words.
“I want to draw you a bath,” he continued. “I’m sure you feel filthy after having his hands on you.”
Now that I thought about it, I did feel dirty. I could still sense the stinging in my thighs, his hand between my legs. “I would like that, sir.” My voice was stronger now that the threat of the strange man and a brutal beating had been erased.
This time, he held out a hand and I placed mine in it before he led me back upstairs, into my room, and then the bathroom. I stood awkwardly as he turned on the faucet and steam quickly filled the enclosed space. He rolled up his sleeves until they were a little past his elbows, revealing the edge of black I’d seen before. My legs still shook from what had happened downstairs, but I stayed where he’d left me by the sink until he was done adding oils and the tub was filled with water and bubbles.
“Come here,” he said without looking at me, standing up and turning off the faucet.
I took a few steps towards him and he moved closer, shifting my hair from my neck as he stood behind me. Before I realized, he was unzipping my dress, walking around me as he did so as the fabric fell to the floor, the beads and diamonds sounding like rain against the tile. I stiffened as the air hit my bare back.
Master Jäger had bathed me the day I ran. I refused to do so, terrified of what he would do to me once I had. He’d been nice in the beginning as well, helping me undress and even letting me stand like a human girl as the tub filled. Then he gripped the back of my neck and held me under.
“It’s only a bath, Doe,” Master Lyon said, bringing me back to the present. “Nothing more.”
I nodded just so I wouldn’t be standing there, frozen.
His fingers grazed my skin as he took the dress from around my legs then held out a hand to steady me as I stepped into the steaming water.
Of course it stung, turning my skin an instant pink, but I didn’t dare indicate that the water was just a few degrees too warm, burning my welts while at the same time soothing the bruises around them. Truthfully, I preferred it as hot as I could stand it; I wanted to burn that strange man’s touch from my skin.
I adjusted as quickly as possible, telling myself the entire time that the sooner I sank into the water, the sooner I would be somewhat concealed from his view. I kept my eyes on him the entire time, yet he was more concerned with where I was stepping than my bare skin.
Finally, I was in the tub and wrapped my arms around my knees, not wanting to move as I watched individual bubbles pop in the foam. It was silent for the longest time and I couldn’t stand it.
“It smells nice, sir,” I said, sinking further for effect.
He took the chair that had held the bath oils and soap, set each on the side of the tub, and sat down near me. “It’s lavender,” he said. “I grow it.”
Again, I was at a loss as to what to say. “Is it difficult?”
He shook his head. “Not if you know what you’re doing.”
I nodded, completely out of any other form of response.
Master Lyon leaned against the edge of the tub, rubbing a hand through the short hair along his jaw while with the other he reached beside the leg of the chair to retrieve the drink I thought he’d forgotten. He took a sip and his swallow was loud in the silence that had settled between us.
I wasn’t about to believe him, but I stared at the back of his head and it didn’t turn in my direction as I slowly unclasped my arms from around my knees.
We were silent again as I washed, scrubbing every inch of skin that vile man had touched. I tried my best not to replay the events in my mind. No matter how much I’d prepared myself, no matter how many times I had envisioned something like this happening to me and how I wouldn’t react—how I wouldn’t give them my fear or disgust—I had failed. Imagining was completely different than the tangible. There was no preparing for it.
Ice clinked in his glass as he took another gulp and then set it back down. “He wasn’t supposed to touch you,” he finally said.
I knew it was impossible, but it sounded almost as if he was apologizing. Angered by his audacity—that he thought I would buy one word he refused to say—I couldn’t bite my tongue. “Why does it matter?”
My tone was ice; I had to wrap my arms around myself again.
I heard him inhale, but he still didn’t face me. “Of course it matters.” The edge to his voice sounded as appalled as I had felt the moment he’d tied my hands behind my back and made me even more helpless than I already was.
Anger flared in me even brighter. “Why should it?” I asked. “I’m only here for what men like that want to do with me. He’s just more honest about his intentions than some.” I wanted to sew my mouth shut. No one ever spoke to their Owner in such a way. I knew better, yet I couldn’t stop the truth from spewing out of my mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the impact of his open palm across my cheek, still damp from the condensation on his glass, but it didn’t come.
He casually took another drink of amber liquid, leaving just enough remaining in case he decided he wanted more. “Dry off.”
I found a white towel on one of the shelves behind me as I stood, and I wrapped it around my body. It was only then that he turned, holding out a hand for me as he helped me step out of the water. When he let go, he didn’t move away, standing directly in front of me for too long before he moved across the room to a linen closet to retrieve another robe.