Page 75 of The Enslaved Duet

A house without leaks in the wet season, with clean water and more space for four children to grow. I had no care for a father with a crown, just one that didn’t drink himself half to death at least once a week or wile away what meager wealth we had over cards and horses.

I had no real dreams for myself, just those of my siblings.

But looking at that beautiful house, for the first time in my life, I felt my own dream take shape.

Deep in the secret recesses of my heart, I dreamt that I might one day be more than just a servant at Pearl Hall and a slave to its Master. I hoped beyond all reasoning that one day, I might be mistress of its halls and mistress of his heart.

It took precarious form and flight, too delicate to survive for long like a child’s blown bubble, but that didn’t make it any less beautiful to me.

The car pulled to a rolling stop in the limestone gravel drive, but I waited for Riddick to open the door for me before I alighted from the vehicle.

Servants were waiting in a neat row beside the front doors, Ainsworth at the head all the way through to a meek, young lad I recognized from watching him lay the fire in the library at night. They greeted their Master and he them in return; his face stern but not unfeeling.

I watched the pomp and circumstance with my arms wrapped around my belly. I still felt wrong in my skin after the Order had usurped our lives, and I didn’t know how to center myself properly. Although I had a sinking suspicion that a scene with my Master would probably do the trick like nothing else could.

Riddick stopped a young manservant from taking the blacked-out cage where Astor was housed by gently slapping his wrist as he walked into the house with him. As the servants broke formation to grab our bags from the car and hurry back into the house, Alexander strode over to me. I watched as his thick thighs worked beneath the butter soft fabric of his trousers and how the dark grey dress shirt pulled just right over his pecs.

My pulse moved into my core.

When I looked back up at his face, his eyes danced with dark, sultry desire. He held out a hand and waited patiently for me to hesitate and then take it before he moved us away from the house around the side of the building.

“I have a present for you,” he said. “Something beautiful and fierce enough to suit you and your bravery this weekend.”

“I don’t need a present,” I told him honestly. “Other than the ability to talk to my family more frequently and… and you back in my life again.”

His hand spasmed in mine as he led us down a beautifully landscaped path toward an outbuilding that looked distinctly like the stables.

“I’ll have Riddick get you a phone with international texting. It will be monitored, so remember that when you converse with your family, but you can text them whenever you wish.”

I tugged at his hand to stop him and then went on my tiptoes to press a light kiss to the edge of his jaw.

“Thank you, Xan,” I said softly.

There was a growing tenderness around my heart that seemed to bloom just for him. It made me feel uncharacteristically shy and vulnerable even though it felt beautiful flowering in my chest.

He looked slightly stupefied by my voluntary affection for a second, before his eyes smiled and he shook his head.

We continued up the gently sloping hill in silence. He pulled me through the huge barn doors and into the hay-sweetened air of the stables.

Immediately, the great black head of Alexander’s horse, Charon, poked out from his stall so that he could whinny at his master.

Alexander chuckled and moved over to brush a firm hand down the horse’s long nose.

“Do you like horses?” he asked me, reaching into a bag to produce a red apple that he fed to the happy beast.

I nodded, lifting my hand tentatively to stroke Charon’s velvet snout. “I rode one a few times. A family friend, Christopher, used to take us to the vineyard for holidays, and we could ride the horses there.”

Alexander made a clicking sound in his mouth and another head appeared over the stall beside Charon’s. I gasped as I moved toward the gorgeous horse with my hands outstretched.

It was entirely gold. From the crown of its gorgeous, wavy mane to the very bottom of its hooves, the horse was a shimmering, pale metallic gold.

“She is the very same shade as your eyes are in the sunlight,” Alexander explained. “She’s a Golden Akhal Teke, a very rare breed from Turkmenistan.”

“She looks like living sunlight,” I told him as I stroked her nose. “I’ve never seen a creature so beautiful.”

“Suitable then, that she’s yours.”

I blinked into the horse’s golden eyes and then into Alexander’s silver ones. “Excuse me?”