Page 12 of The Monster I Am

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He couldn’t afford to be grateful to a supe. Not when he had firsthand knowledge of how supes treated humans, and especially slaves. Just because this supe had used him in a way that had felt good— made his body sing with pleasure — didn’t mean that he was going to be less monstrous. Every supe who attended parties like that were monsters.

Every supe was a monster, even those who hid behind pretty smiles.

He kept his gaze on his hands that were folded in his lap. He’d have considered trying to open the door and escape, but he hadn’t missed the fact that the supe had done something to the door before closing it. And even if it did open, they were moving fast and⁠—

And he didn’t want to.

He should have wanted to. Any normal person would’ve wanted to get as far away from the supe who’d cut him up as they could, as fast as they could.

“I am Rhys Thorne. You’ll call me sir. Do you understand?” the supe asked after they had been on the road for a few minutes.

Jared’s eyes flickered up in surprise, his gaze going to the rearview mirror from which he could catch the faintest glimpse of the supe’s face, before he caught himself and dropped his eyes again. “Yes, sir,” he said softly.

“I highly suggest you continue to behave,” the supe who owned him, Rhys, said. “Your rules will be simple. Yes, I will use you. Yes, I will hurt you. Yes, you will enjoy it. I work for the Council. There is a chance you may hear sensitive information. If you do, you will learn to hold your tongue, or I will cut it out.”

Jared flinched at the mention of the Council. Of course Rhys worked for the Council. That could only make him more monstrous, and he had no doubt that the threat to cut out his tongue was very real.

He swallowed. “Yes, sir,” he repeated.

It was disturbing how that was the only part of the threat that he was afraid of. All of it should be a threat, all of it should be terrible, and none of it should be anything that sounded… appealing. But Rhys had also said that Jared would enjoy it. He hadn’t wanted to enjoy any of it, but he couldn’t deny that it had felt good.

Even the pain.

Maybe especially the pain, and the pleasure that came with it. Even the self-loathing and misery that he’d felt after the humiliation and horror of that first party that the slaver had taken him to felt strangely muted. Had the supe done something to him?

“I am not an unreasonable master. I will detail the rules for you, and as long as you obey them, I will not punish you. You do not,” Rhys stressed, “want me to punish you. That, you will not enjoy.”

He paused, letting Jared absorb those words.

“I will give you chores; you will complete them to the best of your ability in a reasonable time frame. You will serve me whenever I wish to use you, but you will have free time you may use to do with as you wish. No one but me will touch you. The one exception would potentially be Dominic Bancroft, who purchased you for me, but he has his own slave. If you try to run away, fight me, deny me, steal from me, or otherwise disappoint me, again, you will be punished. You can have a comfortable life, Jared, but it depends on you.”

Jared rubbed the slave mark on the inside of his wrist while he listened silently, not sure whether he could trust any of the supe’s words.

He wanted to though. Fuck, he wanted to.

There were always rumors about supes who weren’t as terrible to humans. Who treated them well, even⁠—

He cut you up, and made you bleed. He raped you.

It hadn’t felt that way. It hadn’t been like before.

And somehow that makes it better?

No.

Yes.

He was so fucked up.

Even if he could run away, he’d just get caught and brought back, though. Even supes who might not snatch a human off of the street would grab one who was marked and where he shouldn’t be. Especially if he was alone.

So was there a reason to try?

“Yes, sir,” he repeated since there didn’t seem to be anything else for him to say.

Rhys sighed. “Do you have any questions for me? You may speak freely.”