But the misery only wrenched tighter, cruel, scraping, even as John’s rag dropped to Rosa’s breasts, cleaning them off with agonizing gentleness. “I —” she began, a croak. “I killed mine, too.”
John’s hand abruptly stilled, his eyes blinking unseeing toward it — and then darting up, brief, to her face. Searching her, brows furrowing, almost as if she might be lying, as if she had to be lying — but she felt herself attempt a smile at him, not a smile at all.
“My father only made it a few years after that,” she heard her hollow voice say. “Some kind of disease, I never could find out what. But he was a scholar, you know, at the Dusbury University, he specialized in languages, and before his death he arranged for me” — she dragged for air — “to go to boarding school. Until the money ran out, at least, but after that, I learned —”
John’s eyes were very intent on hers, his hands very still, waiting, listening, safe— so Rosa somehow found more air, the rest of the words. “I learned that there were — other ways to pay,” she whispered. “With men. Like Lord Kaspar. And before him, my schoolmaster. Mr. Sullivan. They took care of me, gave me an education, as long as I” — she swallowed hard — “obeyed.”
She could feel her heartbeat pattering, her breath locked in her throat, her eyes fixed, trapped, helpless upon John’s. Almost as if to tell him, now you know, I really am a woman who sells herself, a strumpet. And what would he do now, would the revulsion flare across his eyes, would he call her foolish and stupid and useless…
But instead, to her vague surprise, John only kept wiping. Moving the rag down to her waist, gently mopping up his mess. Frowning as he seemed to hit upon a stubborn spot — where he’d first dripped on her, perhaps — and then he actuallyspaton her skin, a harsh straight hiss of water, before scrubbing at it again. And then clamping the sopping rag between his teeth while he caressed both hands up and down Rosa’s front and sides, smooth, lingering, as if to make sure he’d done his work well, and gotten every spot.
Next he spat the rag away too, sideways onto the floor, and finally reached up to where Rosa’s wrists were still tied to the bedpost. And with a few jerks of the leather she was free again, her fingers only slightly tingly, and he was carefully holding her hands, and turning them over, as if inspecting them for any sign of damage.
“This binding calmed you, ach?” he said, more to her hands than to her face. “Should it further help if I tie your legs also, next time you are vexed?”
The heat and the hunger surged bare and unbidden, escaping in a helpless groan from Rosa’s mouth. Making John’s lips twitch up, his eyes flicking to hers — and then holding there, an instant too long, before looking away again.
But it had spoken something, revealed something, all the same. Calling up that memory of Hanarr speaking, saying, we Ka-esh do not oft speak vows. One’s actions speak only truth.
And John’s actions said, very clearly, that he didn’t want Rosa to leave. But also, perhaps, that he didn’t care about her past, about the men. That perhaps this wasn’t all about his work, or his reputation. Perhaps he did care about —her.
That thought was suddenly, inexplicably alarming, and so was the shocking, brazen part of Rosa that grabbed for his broad shoulders — he was stillclothed, the bastard — and dragged him down onto the bed beside her. He came willingly enough, his big body settling heavy on the quilt, and Rosa took the liberty of tucking herself up long against him, her head on his shoulder, her arm and leg creeping across him to hold him close.
“If I’m a strumpet,” she murmured, into his neck, “you’re a — ascoundrel, John-Ka. A merciless, deviousreprobate.”
“Areprobate,” he repeated, slow, as though testing the word on his tongue. “Why is this? Because I just gave you all that you wished for?”
Rosa nipped at his neck, and was rewarded with a full-body shudder beneath her, a hissing growl from his throat. “You didnot,” she countered. “I threatened to leave you, so you railed at me, and tied me to a bed, and — andravishedme. With yourclaw.”
John sighed, and there was the delicious, thrilling touch of his hand, coming to rest against her back. “I ought not to haverailedat you, as I did,” he said, quiet. “This was wrong. I ought to have better calmed you from the start. It did not please me” — his throat swallowed, audible — “to see you so vexed, pet.”
Oh. It was — anapology. Hurtling another jolt of warmth up Rosa’s back, and before she’d quite caught herself, she pressed a soft little kiss into his scented neck. “Thank you,” she whispered. “John-Ka. My lord.”
And it made no sense, Rosa was here as a spy, she was here to help start awar, this orc might very well have still cast some kind of awfulspellupon her — but somehow, all that seemed to matter was the answering clench of his powerful body, the heat of his exhale.
“So I have proven this to you,” he said, his claws gently stroking at her back. “And you shall yet stay, little rose, and be my pet, until all this is done. Ach?”
And in this moment, curled safe and content against a deadly, smooth-talking orc, there was no refusing, no listening to that distant shouting voice. Too far away, too far gone, three weeks, or rather, nineteen more days…
“Yes, my lord,” she breathed. “I’ll stay. Until it’s done.”
22
When Rosa left that small, wooden-doored room again, hand in hand with a tall, silent orc, it was like something, again, had changed. Something that had swept away all her uncertainty, and replaced it with a bright, buzzing curiosity.
“Whydoyou have a human room here, John?” she asked, as they began walking down the corridor again. “For guests?”
John’s face had, predictably, gone blank and unreadable in the lamplight, blocking Rosa out. Denying that this room meant anything, pretending he didn’t care at all… and that, combined with that highly conspicuous cradle, was answer enough.
“Oh, I see,” Rosa said, quieter than before. “It truly is a lovely room, and I’m sure any woman would be delighted to come and stay there. Has it housed other Ka-esh mates before? Salvi’s, perhaps?”
She was probably pushing it with that question, but John answered anyway, despite the still-blank look on his face. “Salvi’s mate never came here. She did not wish to live with orcs.”
Oh. Rosa filed that away, studying John’s expression, the slight inflection of his words. “And she didn’t wish to have an orc’s son, either?” she asked carefully. “Was that true, what Simon said you did?”
John muttered something in Aelakesh that included the wordSkai, and sounded suspiciously like a curse — but then he sighed as he led Rosa around a corner. “That is truth,” he said, voice flat. “Salvi’s mate needed my help, so I gave it. Efterar gave his help also, when I pushed for this” — he frowned at the wall — “but no one yet blameshim.”
Without quite meaning to, Rosa bumped against John’s arm with her shoulder, flashing him a quick, rueful smile. “Of course not,” she said. “They all know you’re the brains behind this entire mountain operation, John, even if they don’t want to admit it. I mean, I’ve only been here for a few days, and I can already tell that without you Ka-esh, your people would have gone extinct several millennia ago.”
