Knight (An Impossible Novel) (8 page)

He laid my body down on something soft before he released me from his firm hold.  My eyes snapped open at the absence of his reassuring strength.

I was lying on a bed in an unfamiliar room.  It was smaller than my room at St. Paul’s, and it smelled warm and slightly earthy.  It was far preferable to the sharp, cold antiseptic scent of the clinic.

Master pulled the black duvet over my body, but my skin still felt uncomfortably cool without his heat surrounding me.  He stroked his fingers through my hair soothingly.

“You’ll be safe here with me, little one,” he assured me, his voice gentle.

“I know, Master,” I replied.  I trusted him completely.

He smiled down at me softly.  “I’ll be in the next room.  If you need anything, just call for me.”

He started to pull away from me, and my hand shot out of its own accord to fist in his shirt.  I didn’t want him to leave me, but I was frightened to speak out of turn.

No.  That was my former ma – that Bastard’s – rule.  My Master had ordered me to speak freely.

“Please don’t leave me, Master,” I begged, desperation roughening my words.

He stared down at me for a moment, his quicksilver eyes considering.  Finally, he sighed.  “Alright, little one.  I’ll stay with you.”

I heaved in a relieved breath, and I couldn’t hold back my smile.  “Thank you, Master.”

He smiled back at me, and my stomach did a little flip at the sight of his dimple.  My request had pleased him.  And he was happy for me to address him as “Master.”  I felt as though a weight had been lifted from me with his permission to verbally acknowledge that I belonged to him.

He removed his suit jacket and tie, peeling away his civilized veneer.  I loved the untamed wildness that was only thinly veiled by his professional appearance.  This was how he was meant to be: his innate power fully revealed, unrestrained.

I suddenly craved for him to unbutton his white collared shirt, to remove his belt and well-fitted slacks that concealed his strong body.  I wanted to run my fingers, my tongue, over every inch of him, to demonstrate my reverence for him.  I wanted him to claim me in every way possible, to mark me and fully declare his ownership.

But I didn’t have permission to touch him in that way.  He had told me he didn’t want anything sexual from me.  I bit back my disappointment, saying nothing.

I was consoled when he settled down on the bed beside me, and I pressed my body up against his.  The long days of him sleeping in the chair beside my bed were over.  I could finally cling to him as I had longed to do.

He stiffened beside me, but after a moment, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders, holding me against him.  A warm glow pulsed to life at the center of my chest at the sign of his acceptance.

“Go to sleep, girl.”

When I was touching him like this, I could feel his deep voice rumble through me.  I sighed happily and eagerly obeyed his order.

Chapter 7

Master’s warm, rough hands were running over my naked body, and something unfamiliar stirred low in my belly.  His fingertips trailed over my abdomen, tracing their way upward.  When they reached the undersides of my breasts, I gasped as pleasure raced over my skin, flooding my mind.  I couldn’t remember having ever felt anything this delicious.

He abandoned my breasts to trace a line around my throat.  There was something heavy there.  The weight of it pressed against my windpipe, restricting my breathing.  Fear flashed through the pleasure that fogged my mind.

I stared u
p into Master’s gorgeous eyes in order to ground myself.  I trusted him.  I didn’t have anything to fear from him.

But the light in his eyes shifted, morphing into something lustful and disturbing.  Muddy green bloomed to life amidst the silver, bleeding across it until the metallic shine was consumed.  My former Master’s fingers hooked through the ring at the front of the iron collar that encircled my throat, dragging my face to his.

“I told you I would come back for you, slave.  You belong to me.  Your cunt is mine.”

Terror flooded my system, and I tried to lash out at him.  Manacles were secured around my wrists and ankles, spreading my body wide for his use.  My side and my cheek throbbed from where he had abused me earlier.  He was going
to hurt me again.

I screamed
out my fear.  I knew I should give in to him.  Everything would be so much easier if I just accepted him.

I couldn’t.  He wasn’t my m
aster any longer.  I wouldn’t allow him to claim me.

But it hurt so much.  His vicious hold on my iron collar was making it difficult to breathe.  I gasped, but I couldn’t draw in any air.  I couldn’t even beg him to stop.

“Wake up, girl.”  He ordered.

Instinct drove me to try to fight him off, but my efforts were useless.  I was chained down. I couldn’t move my arms.

“Wake up.”  The command was sharper this time.  I couldn’t refuse him.

I blinked hard.

Silver eyes stared down at me.  Master’s hands encircled my wrists, holding me down.  I was lying on a bed, not on the cold, hard floor of my dungeon.

“Breathe.”

I gasped in air, easing the burning in my lungs.  When I exhaled, a relieved sob escaped me.  It hadn’t been real.  The pain in my side and my cheek was still there, but my cruel metal collar was no longer choking me.

He released my wrists and wrapped his arms around me, pulling my body up against his.  His hand stroked up and down my back in a soothing rhythm.  I breathed him in, reassuring myself that
this
was real, and my torment had been the dream.

“Master.”
  I whispered his title like a prayer.

“I’m here, little one,” he murmured.

I snuggled into him as closely as I could.  I didn’t want any distance between us.  I didn’t want to leave him, not even for a second.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he reassured me.  “You’re safe.”  He tenderly kissed the top of my head.  Pleasure washed over me in response, but it was different from the pleasure I had felt in my dream.  This was a deeper sense of satisfaction.  I wasn’t simply Master’s slave; I was a cherished possession.

“Thank you, Master,” I mumbled against his chest.

He held me for a long time, petting me and whispering words of praise and reassurance.  I gloried in it.

The shrill ringing of Master’s phone punctuated my blissful state.  He frowned and pulled it from his pocket, checking the number before answering.

“Clayton,” he said into the receiver.  “Did you find anything?”

His frown deepened.

“Fine.
  But she’s not going anywhere.  You can come over.”

He hung up on his friend without saying goodbye.  His harsh expression melted when he looked down at me, but his eyes were still troubled.

“Let’s see if we can find you some breakfast, sweetheart,” he said gently.  “I’m sure I have something in other than coffee.”

I hated the loss of his arms around me, but he still held my hand as he led me out of the small bedroom.

The morning sun illuminated Master’s living room.  The light shone in through one large window, which provided a stunning view of the New York City skyline.  The room was made all the brighter for the stark décor.  The walls and carpet were white, the blankness punctuated by black furniture.  The space was sleek and minimalistic, unencumbered by frills or unnecessary adornment.  It suited Master’s powerful nature.  And yet the simplicity of it held the barest suggestion of loneliness; there was no place here for sentiment.

I was suddenly filled with anticipation at the prospect of exploring Master’s personal space.  I wanted to know him better, to feel closer to him.  The sensation of excitement was yet another vaguely remembered concept.  Longing had claimed me when I had been desperate for my reward under that Bastard’s ownership, but that yearning was an empty, pitiful thing.

Master led me through the living room to the bathroom.  It was similarly decorated to the living room, with a black tile floor and white walls.  It might have seemed coldly impersonal if it weren’t for the fact that it reflected Master’s personality.

Once I was in the bathroom, he released my hand and moved to shut the door behind me.  Panic spiked through my gut, and I reached for him.

“Please don’t leave me, Master.”

Something I couldn’t quite identify clouded his eyes.  He seemed almost disturbed. 
And a bit pained.  He blinked, and the lines of his face eased to a calm mask.  His fingertips traced the line of my jaw, and I leaned into his touch, relishing the contact.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured me gently.  “I’m going to be right outside that door.  I want you to do this on your own.”  His voice turned firmer, authoritative.  “And you’ll do as you’re told.  Won’t you?”

My stomach sank at the prospect of him leaving my side even for a minute, but I didn’t have a choice.  “Yes, Master,” I replied meekly.

He watched me for the space of a few heartbeats, impressing his will upon me with his steady silver stare.  I dropped my eyes, communicating my submission.  Once he was sure of my compliance, he turned on the sink, adjusting the hot and cold water until he was satisfied with the temperature.  Opening the mirrored medicine cabinet, he retrieved a toothbrush and removed it from its packaging before setting it down on the sink alongside a bar of soap.

“Wash your face, brush your teeth, and use the toilet,” he ordered.

“Yes, Master,” I replied hollowly, still staring at a spot on the floor.  His fingers were beneath my chin, applying pressure so that I was forced to face him.

“It will make me very happy if you do this.  You want to make me happy, don’t you, girl?”

I nodded, swallowing hard against the lump forming in my throat.

“Good girl.”  He planted a gentle kiss on my forehead.  The sign of affection gave me the strength I needed to let him go.

I
did
want to please him.  I would prove to him that I was worthy of his care.  The soft thud of the door closing behind him threatened to open the floodgates, but I ruthlessly held back the fear that arose when he left my sight.

Master had given me orders, and it was my job to comply.  It was my sole purpose to obey him.  My determination to please him tapped into a wellspring of strength within myself I hadn’t known I possessed.  Focusing only on him, I easily completed my tasks.

As soon as I turned off the sink, he returned to me, pulling me into his embrace.

“That was very good, sweetheart.”  I glowed at his rumbling praise. 

All too soon, he released me so he could attend to his own needs.  “Stay here,” he ordered before disappearing into a room adjacent to the one where we had slept.  He reappeared quickly, holding a black t-shirt and a fresh pair of slacks.  I hated losing sight of him as he closed the door to the bathroom, but I stood patiently in the living room, not moving from the spot where he had ordered me to wait for him.

He emerged only minutes later, dressed in his fresh clothes.  The t-shirt was tight, doing little to disguise his muscular chest and bulging arms.  My mouth practically watered at the sight.  I knew Master was strong enough to protect me, but his physical perfection had always been obscured by his professional suit.  There was no doubt in my mind that Master was more than capable of keeping me safe.

He led me to the kitchen, where it quickly became apparent that he didn’t have much other than coffee in stock.  His fridge held little more than beer and an expired block of cheese, and his freezer was sparsely littered with a bottle of chilled vodka and a few frozen dinners.

I was shocked to find that he appeared slightly chagrined when he fished out a Toaster Strudel for my breakfast.  “I’m afraid this is all I have to offer you,” he said with a self-deprecating smile.  “Unfortunately, I have fuck all in the way of culinary skills.”

He gripped my waist so he could lift me up onto one of the barstools at his kitchen counter.  Pain flared where his fingers dug into my bruised flesh where that Bastard had kicked me.  The image of his twisted, cruel snarl flashed across my mind.

“No amount of groveling will save you.  I’ll be back for you, slave.”

My whimper was a result of residual fear as well as pain.

Master released me instantly, concern etched in his handsome features.  He reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it up to examine my injury.  A dark, purplish splotch stood in stark contrast to my pale skin.  Master swore under his breath, his concern giving way to fury.

A buzzing sound broke through the tension that was radiating off of him.  He blinked, his ire receding ever so slightly as he lowered my shirt to cover me once again.

“That’ll be Clayton,” he explained.  “He’s going to ask you some questions about what happened last night.  I want you to answer him as thoroughly as possible.  If you get scared, I’ll be right here.”  He paused, studying me.  “Don’t call me ‘Master’ in front of him.  If you do, he might try to take you from me.”

“I won’t, Master,” I promised quickly.  “I won’t,” I amended, omitting his appellation.  I liked Clayton, but I would claw his eyes out if he tried to take me away from Master.

He nodded, satisfied, before leaving me briefly in order to let Clayton in.  As always, Master’s friend had a smile for me.

“Hi, Jane,” Clayton beamed at me.  He always seemed to radiate positivity, his bearing implacably lighthearted.

“Hi.” 
My lips quirked up of their own accord in response to his levity.

“Jane, this is Agent Reed Miller.  He works with Smith and me at the FBI,” Clayton introduced the man who followed him into Master’s apartment.

Agent Reed Miller was about the same height as Master, but he wasn’t quite as broad.  He was younger.  His face didn’t bear the same care-worn creases that crinkled at the corners of Master’s eyes, and his skin was tanned and smooth.  He was also tidier than Master, his carefully-styled black hair and clean-shaven jaw likening him more to Clayton, who ever looked the professional in his sharp suits.

“You can call me Reed,” he told me.

He extended a hand towards me.  Reflexively, I shrank back.  I hadn’t met any men other than Clayton and Master since Master had claimed me.

The boyish smile was instantly wiped from his face, his dark brown eyes suddenly uncertain as he pulled his hand back slowly.

“Shit.  Sorry.”  He cut his eyes to Master when he apologized.

Master was instantly at my side, his warm hand splayed across my lower back in a show of support.  I leaned into him, allowing his touch to ground me.

His eyes flashed as he frowned at Reed.  I hated that he was angry with his friend because of me.  If Reed worked with Master and Clayton, then he was safe.  And even if he wasn’t, he couldn’t do anything to me with Master by my side.  Gathering up my courage, I struggled to recall the mechanics of social niceties.

I was pleased that my hand barely trembled as I extended it towards Reed.  “It’s nice to meet you, Reed,” I said, my voice a bit softer than I would have liked.

Reed glanced at Master briefly.  He was clearly seeking some sign of approval before he acted.  Master nodded once, the tension leaving him.  Reed’s deference to his ownership of me had placated him.

Reed smiled at me when he took my hand in his.  Although his eyes were such a dark brown that they were almost black, they reflected the light rather than swallowing it, giving off a decidedly mischievous twinkle.  “It’s nice to meet you too, Jane,” he said warmly.  His grip was firm when he shook my hand, but he released me quickly, seeming to sense
that I couldn’t handle much more contact than that.

Master’s hand rubbed my back, and I glanced up to find him smiling down at me with pride.  My answering grin was wide and silly.  What might have been otherwise challenging seemed laughably easy with Master’s approval.  If my actions pleased him, then I was fulfilling the purpose of my existence.  I practically glowed with self-satisfaction.  My world was rapidly changing, but I would be able to adapt to anything so long as he was there to guide me.