Bloom: A Dark Romance (The Order, 1) Page 18

  I looked back up at him and he was staring upwards, at the sun coming through the windows as it shifted in the sky and slowly transformed into a golden yellow.

  “The sun should set in about an hour or so.” Now this was directed at me. “Would you care to join me on a walk about the grounds?”

  I found it hard to remain seated and my eyes felt so wide that they were beginning to dry out. I stammered for words, completely unprepared.

  I’d thought exposing his scars to me was the shock of my stay thus far, but this was nothing compared to that. Maybe he regretted revealing them and was trying to direct my attention elsewhere, but this was too good to try to steer him back to the subject.

  “O-outside, sir?” I tried to make it sound like I didn’t quite believe him because in truth, I really didn’t. This had to be some sort of cruel joke. Something he could dangle in front of me to get what he wanted.

  He smiled and shook his head. He was lying. I knew it couldn’t be real. “What did I say about kindness, ma petite?”

  But it didn’t sound like he wanted me to answer.

  “I am being kind for the sake of being kind,” he said on a sigh, seemingly unamused by my reaction. “Nothing more. I only ask for your company in return.”

  Master Lyon extended his hand to help me to my feet and I couldn’t help but hesitate.

  “Of course you can refuse,” he went on, hand hovering midair. “This isn’t an order, Doe. Only an invitation.”

  I stared at his hand a moment longer, thinking about Mr. B’s words and how he’d said how lonely and isolated my new Owner was. Then my mind flashed to images of the scars on his chest, leading to his bellybutton and up to his throat. Could it be that after I—the girl who the men were always warned about, the one who never showed them who I really was no matter what—had been vulnerable in front of him he was prompted to be vulnerable in front of me?

  Had he not been away doing who knew what while we were apart but instead stuck here, in the woods, trying to stay away from me at all costs? Why?

  Finally, I took his hand in mine and his fingers curled around it. “I would absolutely love to, sir,” I said, unable and unwilling to contain my excitement at the proposal.

  For the first time since I met my new Owner, he gave me an actual, fully-toothed smile. “Good,” he said. “I have another surprise for you as well.”

  I tried not to go with my first instinct to become suspicious and uneasy, but after years of practice, it was a hard habit to break. “Really?” I asked, trying to sound interested.

  “Yes,” he said as he led me out of the greenhouse and back into the foyer. “I had intended for it to all be arranged before, but some things got in the way.”

  Then we were going up the stairs and towards my room. We stopped at my door and my heart pounded in my ears.

  “Go on,” he said like he had handed me a present wrapped in a bow.

  My hand lingered on the doorknob a second too long before I twisted it and the door opened.

  I had purposefully forced myself not to think of all the possibilities that could be waiting for me, but regardless, I wasn’t expecting what I walked into.

  Of course there was the usual: bed made, fresh robe hanging up, everything in its place. Only there were now more things. The dresser drawers were partially open as well as the closet. Inside the drawers were stacks of neatly folded socks, underwear, shirts, and more, tags still attached. I couldn’t tell what hung in the closet, but I could see it was also stuffed with garments—some in black bags and some naked as on their hangers.

  He left my side and walked into the room like it was his own. I supposed that wasn’t strange. He owned everything in this house and on this estate. Including me and the things I was supposed to believe belonged to me.

  Master Lyon motioned for me to follow him and I did, taking tentative steps forward while scanning all the new additions.

  “You can take a closer look later,” he said, going into a drawer to pull out socks and then disappearing into the closet. “I want to get outside while the sun is still out.”

  When he emerged, he set everything neatly on top of the comforter. A pair of boots, laces not even done, were in his hand.

  “You change and I’ll take care of these,” he said, motioning to them.

  I picked up the clothes at the same time he sat on the bed and set to work lacing up the shoes. Briefly, I wondered if he preferred tying things together; laces, people, skin.

  “You can dress here,” he said as I took a step towards the bathroom. I stopped, staying still and unable to turn around. “Even if I was looking,” he said, pulling a lace through a hole, “I’ve seen you naked before.”

  I turned in his direction, trying to find any way I could stall. He was right of course. I really didn’t have anything to be embarrassed or afraid of as far as experiences went. Lots of men had seen me naked—including him—but still, there was something about being without clothing now, when he had seen me at the most vulnerable I’d ever felt, that made it all the more worse.

  “You have to get used to me sometime,” he said with a slight smirk, still not looking up at me.

  Once again, he was right. I’d come to the conclusion myself more than a few times and that wasn’t even concerning my lack of dress. Besides, he wasn’t bringing up that night and he was eager to leave before the sun set; if he’d wanted to take advantage of me, he either would have already done so or he was going to wait until a more opportune moment.

  He’d obviously moved on from the incident, as I expected he would and as he did with all things. If I wanted to follow this example, I’d have to push away any lingering thoughts from that night as well. It happened and now it was over. It was time to move on.

  So without any further hesitation, I stripped out of my too-loose clothing and dressed in what he’d given me. There were a pair of plain white underwear and a bra that I slipped on quickly. Then I chose the pants—denim jeans that were slightly stiff with their newness.

  They fit perfectly, no extra room and not too tight like most of the clothes I would receive at the Compound. Then there was a light pink sweater, which was fuzzy and made of the softest wool I’d ever felt. Just as I’d finished putting on the clean white socks, he stood with the freshly laced boots, dangling them from a curled finger.

  “Sit,” he said, gesturing towards the mattress. I moved to pick up my old clothes but thought better of it. I was always stopped whenever I tried to clean up after myself.

  I did as he asked and took a seat. He lifted my left leg and slipped my foot into the boot, doing up the laces tighter than what I was used to. The last pair of sneakers I’d worn were actually two sizes too big and I hadn’t worn shoes of any kind since I arrived to the Lyon Estate.

  “The terrain is rougher than what you’re used to,” he explained. “You don’t want to hurt yourself by tying your shoes incorrectly.”

  Master Lyon smiled politely as he finished up, standing upright to go back into the closet. When he came out, he had an olive green coat with fur trimming the hood.

  He handed it to me and I put it on, the inside pillow soft and immediately warm.

  Taking it upon himself to zip it up to my neck, he slowed the movement so he didn’t disturb the already dry part of my neck. “Does everything fit well?” he asked, not bothering to step away.

  “Yes, sir.” I looked down at my shoes and tested them out by taking a few tiny steps. They were definitely snug, but still comfortable. “Thank you,” I added.

  “For what?” he asked as he walked back out of my room, headed towards the stairs.

  I thought it was obvious—something I was supposed to say. I’d practiced these lines my whole life; when someone superior gave you something, you thanked them no matter what. They didn’t have to give you anything, so when they did, gratitude was expected.

  I took a few real steps, the boots heavier than what I was used to, before I could formulate an answer. “I’ve never h
ad new clothes before, sir.” It wasn’t a lie in the least. I’d been teased with them by Suitors over the years, but then when they found out who I really was underneath them, they backed out of the deal and took their gifts with them, deeming me unworthy of any trace of their attentions.

  He glanced at me as we came to the foyer. “No Suitors ever tried?” he asked, an eyebrow raised. “Not even your old Owner?” His tone told me he wasn’t surprised.

  “Master Jäger treated me more like a dog.” I didn’t even try to hide my disgust. “Dogs don’t need clothes, he used to tell me.” Somehow, repeating the words I hadn’t heard in so long didn’t cause bile to rise at the back of my throat.

  Master Lyon rolled his eyes as he grabbed his tan jacket from the hook by the door. “Quel trou du cul.” What an asshole.

  I looked at him, confused at his reaction.

  His expression told me he had forgotten I could speak French or maybe he hadn’t meant to say it out loud at all.

  “The old ones are so archaic,” he explained away. “They take the words so seriously, yet bend them whichever way suits them best.”

  He zipped his jacket and we continued on, through the dining room and then through the door to the kitchen, which I had yet to see.

  The first thing to hit me was the smell of cooking—something that I guessed was chicken, rosemary and lemon filling the air along with it—and I caught sight of Mr. B standing in front of a stove large enough for a hotel restaurant. The entire kitchen itself was in black and copper, stainless steel appliances, and a large white marble island where fresh food sat waiting to be prepared. Though the kitchens at the Compound was also quite large, they were absolutely nothing compared to this.

  “We’ll be back shortly, Marius,” Master Lyon said, breaking me from my momentary daze.

  “Very good, sir,” he responded without turning away from his work.

  My new Owneropened the back door and I was caught unaware again. So much that all the air left my lungs.

  TWELVE

  I couldn’t process much other than the sprawling landscape, nothing but a mixture of sparse, leafless trees and evergreen cast in the glow of the afternoon sun. The dead grass, frosted with remnants of a recent snowfall, crunched under his boots as he stepped closer to me and grabbed my hand.

  It was only then, as he began to pull me forward, that what I’d wanted to ask him in the foyer tumbled out of my mouth. “And you aren’t like that, sir.” I did my best to make it sound like a statement, albeit a weak one. Then it occurred to me that too much time had passed since he’d last spoken and I decided to clarify. “The…old ones?”

  We all had our own names for them: the old men ancient enough to remember the early days of the Order—or so they said. The ones who held the most wealth and power. The ones who controlled what went on behind the scenes and kept the whole machine running. Oh yes, I knew who these people were, what they represented, and it was my ultimate goal to take each and every one of them down, reduce them to the bags of bones that they were.

  After we had walked into what I assumed was a heavily wooded area, a dirt path emerged, blocking some of the sun from my sensitive eyes with its dense trees. It was colder in the shade, but I liked it. I welcomed it. The fresh air filtered into my lungs and made me feel lighter; the brisk breeze played in my hair and gave me the best goose bumps I’d ever experienced. My senses were on the verge of being overwhelmed and I almost didn’t hear his response.

  “Is that really a question you need to ask?” There was sharpness in his voice for which I wasn’t prepared, but just as it had previously when he’d lifted his shirt in the greenhouse, it didn’t sound directed at me. When he next spoke, his tone was much softer, calmer. “No, ma petite,” he said. “I would only treat you like a dog if you deserved it, and you would have to do a lot in order to get me to that point.”

  He reached in front of us to snap a branch from a tree that was partially blocking our path. As he tossed it away, he said, “It just isn’t something I’m particularly interested in, Doe.”

  This was interesting indeed. The Vultures were generally revered and respected in our world, and here he was, disparaging their choices openly—and with the girl he had purchased, no less.

  “Good to know, sir,” I answered, then bravely added, “I’ll try my best not to bite anyone else, if only to avoid sleeping in a cage and eating from the floor.”

  It was meant to be funny, but of course it fell flat. Though the memories with Master Jäger were so faded that most had taken on a dreamlike quality, this one always stuck with me. A room in the dark was paradise compared to a cage and eating scraps of food from a bowl designed for animals.

  Though I doubted he thought I would see, his muscles tensed just a fraction. “Typical,” he said under his breath. “Dehumanizing girls so they feel no remorse over what they do to them.” Once again, it seemed he hadn’t meant to say it out loud and he tried to cover up this insight into his mind. “Pretty standard.” He shrugged, but I could tell the topic made him uncomfortable. I was sure he didn’t think I saw that either.

  He didn’t like talking about the Vultures. He didn’t like their practices as much as I didn’t. We were silent for a moment as we continued down the path. It wasn’t long until a structure emerged through the trees. Made from the same gray stone as the main house, it was deceptive in size. There were two large wooden doors, held together with a padlock, which he opened with a key from his pocket.

  It was hard to not be apprehensive, alone with him in the woods, a structure with a lock, no one to hear us, no escape. However, his reaction to my old Owner was comfort enough to push those feelings aside. Of course, this could all be a way to manipulate me into trusting him and getting me to see he was on my side, but still, I kept going, trying to see if the façade would crack.

  “You don’t like them, do you, sir?” It was bold at the very least. Asking anyone else would have earned me a hard slap to the face, yet for whatever reason, I didn’t see him reacting in a negative way.

  Master Lyon slipped the lock out of the hole and lifted the plank of dark wood keeping the massive doors closed. He only gave me a tight smile as a response before he swung the doors open. “Let me get the light,” he said as he stepped into the building. “Wait here and don’t move.”

  He disappeared into the dim space and I tried to see how far he had gone so I could gauge how much of a head start I could get if I ran—instinct, I suppose—but something kept my feet rooted to the ground. As soon as I could move again, the lights had been turned on and he was standing in the middle of the room, staring right back at me as if he expected to find me there, that I’d obeyed.

  I glanced around the room to see that on either side were wooden stalls built into the walls, large square cut outs of space in each one. It took me half a moment, but I soon realized where we were. A stable. One with horses, too, judging by the slight odor. It wasn’t bad, exactly. Earthy, animal, different.

  “Viens-tu?” he asked. Are you coming? My eyes were drawn back to him at the question. “I thought you’d like to meet my horse.” He smiled, but it seemed as if it took him great effort to do so. Not that he wasn’t trying to be nice to me, but maybe he just wasn’t used to having someone in his home that he didn’t know very well. He wasn’t quite sure how to interact with me.

  That made two of us.

  I shuffled forward into the artificial light as he did the same, meeting me at the first stall. A large black horse stuck its head out as soon as Master Lyon was close enough. Though I now knew where I was, I was still caught unaware and jumped a foot backwards, even emitting a pathetic, short shriek.

  He laughed. It was a warm sound I wasn’t prepared to hear coming from him. I wasn’t sure if this or the horse shocked me more.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said, the chuckle still in his voice as he shouldered the massive head and pet the snout. “Onyx is harmless.”

  With his other hand, he beckoned me towards th
e giant animal and it almost simultaneously let out half a breath through its nostrils.

  “Sorry, sir,” I said, cautiously stepping forward. “I—I’ve never seen a wild animal before.”

  He laughed again, louder, even more amused. “He is not wild,” he said. “Come and pet him. He loves attention.”

  I didn’t know why I was so scared. This couldn’t be scarier than any of the possible things that could happen to me in my everyday life. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t anticipated such an event. That this thing was large enough to crush me if it so chose. I gulped, trying my best to put on a brave face as he led me towards the beast.

  Its endlessly dark eyes were drawn towards me as we approached. Then once it spotted its Owner, it shook its mane out and relaxed, as if patiently waiting.

  When we were close enough, he turned my hand in his so the palm was facing outward and he ran it along the length of the horse’s snout.

  The fur was coarse, yet much softer than I’d imagined. Every little girl dreamed of having a pony at some point, and here I was, petting one. If there ever had been an innocent girl in me, I hoped she would enjoy this moment.

  “There, see?” he asked as the horse pushed its head further into my palm. “I think he likes you.” He let go of my hand and let me pet the horse on my own a while. I kept repeating the same, slow stoking motion as Master Lyon moved to scratch him behind the ears.

  “Here,” he said, slipping his hand into his pocket and taking something out. Once it was in my hand, I realized they were cubes of sugar. “He’ll like you even more if you give him that.”

  My heart raced at the thought of letting this thing’s teeth so close to my skin, but he urged me on, holding out my hand flat before the horse took them, staring at me with its black eyes all the while. It didn’t even graze me with its teeth.

  “I think he missed me,” he mused as the horse let out what I thought would be the human equivalent of a contented sigh.

  “Do you not visit him often, sir?” I asked, not missing an opportunity to gather information.