Page 44

The dining room and kitchen are separated by a counter. Damian’s standing in the kitchen, slicing strawberries with a knife made of folded steel. He’s quick, slicing without looking. Laura’s watching the oven like a hawk. The smell of fresh bread wafts through the air.

“Careful,” I say to Damian, as he looks over at me, still slicing, the blade millimeters from his fingers. He twists the knife, picks up a piece of strawberry with the flat of the blade, and tosses it in a high arc. It seems to move in slow motion—or maybe my reaction time is just increasing—and I step forward, mouth open, and catch it.

“Oh my Gods,” I whisper as the flavors explode on my tongue. I’ve never tasted anything like it.

“The fruit is to your liking?” asks Tarak, pulling back a chair at the huge table. I blush when I see the plump cushion on it, so that I’ll be at an almost normal height to the huge black table. The cushion is red, and I know Matil or Laura bought it to help me.

I sit down, not daring to chew the strawberry. Instead, I let it almost melt on my tongue, nearly drooling over the intense sweetness. Finally, I chew it and swallow, looking longingly over at the bowl filled with cut strawberries.

“I…I’ve never had a strawberry before. Or any fresh fruit. The closest was a flavor packet I let dissolve on my tongue while I watched a holo-vid of a ripe peach in front of me. We didn’t have anything like this on the station I grew up on.” I lick my lips, getting one last taste of the sweetness, as Tarak sits across from me. I wiggle on the pillow—and a thought crosses my mind.

Did one of the women get it so I could sit up higher…

Or because they’re worried the chair would be too hard after…

I gulp, wondering if they overheard Damian’s promise to discipline me. Even if they didn’t, they have to know. Aurelians are famed for their harsh touch, loving to train and mold their servants into submissive little toys.

“Where’s Matil?” I say, shifting my thoughts before they can pick up on the thread of arousal building in me.

“Tending to the gardens,” says Tarak.

“Would she like to join us for breakfast?”

His brows furrow. They’re black, contrasted to the gorgeous marble hue of his skin, and I take a moment to appreciate his features, the high cheekbones, the etched jaw. Gods, but he’s a hottie. Some Aurelians are handsome in a brutish way…

Like Raython.

I get a surge of grief that I’ll never meet the man, but I distance myself from it, not wanting the Aurelians to feel it in my aura.

“She’s a servant,” says Tarak, confused.

I nod. “Yes. It’s your home, and your rules. But I served long enough and…if it’s alright with you, could we invite them to eat with us?”

Tarak looks over at Damian. He grunts. “Yes,” says the leader of the triad, then looks out through the open window to the garden. “Matil! We invite you to eat with us. It is the wish of Athena,” he yells through, and I wince. I don’t want her to feel pressure.

“Thanks, but I already ate!” yells back Matil.

Damian looks over at me. He’s stopped slicing, and he holds the knife like he was born with it in his hand. His forearm is tense, near as big as my leg. “Shall I insist?”

“No, no, not at all,” I say quickly. Matil likes it in the garden, and I don’t want to take her from her happy place. These two aliens still view their servants as just that, servants, and it’s going to take some time. I wonder if they bought them withtalons,whatever those are, or if the two of them joined willingly.

Baby steps.

I glance over at Laura. She’s looking in the oven, waiting for the exact moment to pull out the bread, an artist in her own right.

“Laura, that smells so good. Do you want to eat with us?”

“Thank you, but if it’s okay, I’d like to take some food and coffee and do some reading. Matil picked me up some light novels from the market.” She tears her eyes from the oven, looking down, near Damian’s feet. “Would you permit me to have coffee in the library?”

“You may,” says Damian, and his eyes flit to me, feeling my approval to the Bond. I give him a grateful smile. I like it when he’s not ordering the two women around…

Then I bite my lip at a naughty thought.

It’smeI want him to order around, in that stern voice of his. I remember when he promised me a spanking, and I can’t help the flood of lust rushing up. The pleasure dress tickles me, teasing my nipples, and Tarak’s eyes stroll down my neck to my suddenly hard nipples.

I can’t hide a thing from these two in my body.

But I can still hide some parts of my mind.