Page 22 of His Toy

CHAPTER 7

Heather

The quiet hum of the morning was normal here. After moving frequently throughout my life, I was used to change. Loud houses, even quiet neighborhoods like this. None of it bothered me. But Zaid was a phantom, appearing at the least expected times, beckoning me to slave or self-defense training, and other times? His presence stretched its fingers around the house, marking its territory, buthewas missing. A specter that only appeared every few days. I spent hours wandering around the hallways, tracing my hands along the walls, the smooth surfaces, the doors. Discreet digital pads below each handle. So far, I knew there were eighteen rooms in total, but like the dungeon, I assumed some rooms were hidden. Sometimes, a new door was unlocked, and I explored every corner, trying to decipher what I could. To figure out more about my sister’s connection to this place, to Eric. To figure out more about Zaid. But most days, I walked aimlessly.

Luckily, the kitchen and the sitting room were always open.

I helped myself to a cup of coffee, saying ‘morning’ to Donna, though she pretended she didn’t hear me. She sung to herself, fixing the meals for the day, sometimes an insane amount. She never answered my questions about who the food was for and was visibly irritated when I asked about Zaid. But if I asked for food—if I could make a sandwich, if there were extra muffins, anything like that—she stopped what she was doing and made sure I was fed. I got the feeling she was under orders not to talk to me. Still, even with our weird relationship, I liked her.

Hugging my fingers around the warm mug, I took a seat on the armless sectional in the sitting room, my favorite spot in the house. The large window gave a perfect view of the woods and the top of the mountain, as well as the front of the house. To be honest, even with my stationary existence in Zaid’s home, I preferred this house to the motel. The motel had been in the middle of the city. But despite my bedroom having no windows, when I was on this couch, I might not have been outside soaking in the fresh air, but at least I was looking out.

I missed hiking.

When I found a good trail, an internal transformation took place. City life to nature, when my phone was useless, but that was okay. When all around you, there were only trees, rocks, and the earth. The wind through the trees. A stream trickling somewhere. The hazy noises of insects, the rustle of creatures in the brush. It was soothing, a complete calm. Being on a hike, my soul was an empty beach, the worries washed away with each ripple of the tide.

I was only a day hiker. Thru-hiking seemed like a long way off. I couldn’t leave Hazel on her own for that long, and she sure as hell wouldn’t come with me. But I dreamed of the day when I could go backpacking. A week, a weekend. Something. But I always pushed it out of my mind. I had to be there for Hazel. She needed me. And I’ll admit, I didn’t trust her to take care of herself.

A deer came through the trees. It stopped, bent down, and sniffed a flower. Her timid eyes met mine in the window, and she froze. We stared at each other for a moment. She was free to roam, free to live. Even before I had an agreement that my sister’s life depended on, I guess I wasn’t that free. I always followed her. It was my purpose, I guess. My responsibility for my sister always won over my heart.

The deer decided I was not a predator and resumed investigating the flowers.

“Heather.”

I jumped, nearly spilling my mug on his couch—who knows how expensive it was. Zaid was waiting on the second floor, his hands resting on the railing.

“Yes, sir?”

“It’s Zaid. We aren’t training yet,” he said. He nodded towards the hallway. “But we will soon. Finish your drink at your leisure.”

He left, disappearing as quickly as he’d come. Like I said, a phantom.

I chugged the rest of the coffee, needing the surge of caffeine. It was nice of him to offer the idea of relaxation, but knowing that I had training minutes away was like surprising me with a trip to Buckskin Mountain. I was eager to get started.

Which is to say, even though I hated what brought us together, I liked training.

That was an understatement. Ireallyliked it.

There was something freeing about being with Zaid, listening to his commands, obeying him, that left me completely open. I told myself time and time again that it was only to protect my sister, but I knew there was more to it. His words called to me. Moved me. I yearned for his hands on my skin. Molding me. Slapping me. Shaking me to my core. Taking what was his. Makingmehis.

And my panties were soaking every time we finished. I told myself it was from sweat and adrenaline, but it was more than that. And even though I had said we could have sex—you know, for training purposes, not because I was secretly into him—Zaid had hardly touched me since that first night. The man held to his word. I had said no. Therefore, he would not touch me.

Unless necessary.

I left the mug on the kitchen counter, thanking Donna, who seemed to grunt in response, or maybe she was mad at the peppers she was cutting. I changed into gym shorts (short, showing off my legs) and a tank top, choosing them out of the pile of my belongings from the motel. I unhooked my bra and tossed it on the bed. Yeah, it wasthatkind of thing.

Zaid stretched thin black leather gloves over his hands. I stood in the corner, wondering if I should undress, or stand there, or help. Somehow. Do something. Anything.

“Inspect,” he said. He motioned upwards with two fingers spread.

I laced my fingers behind my head, my feet shoulder length apart, my hips thrust back, my chest out, mouth open. This was one of my favorite high protocol positions, because unlike the others, in this one, my eyes could wander. I could watch him.

The cool slick touch of his gloved fingers curved its way along my spine. It wasn’t even him, but the fucking leather, and I still quivered at the touch.

Denying me touch was his way of controlling me.

“What do you think of your endurance training so far, toy?”

Hearing that word,toy, made me shiver. An object. Something to be played with. Not a girl, not a woman, but a toy. Zaid’s toy.