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“Noted,” Azriel replied, as if it were a perfectly routine conversation, and Galen supposed it was in such an establishment. But the notion of Azriel procuring the oils for the act of men fucking made his prick plump up on the way to the next room.
That was when he noticed the slotted space with a short handle built into each of the doors. “What are these for?”
“They have many uses. One is voyeurism.” Bellamy demonstrated how they could be slid open or shut as Galen marveled at the idea of watching others in the act. He shivered, enjoying the idea a bit too much.
“But also, for protection.” He lowered his voice. “Just in case.”
Protection.
He recalled Madam Langley’s words: “If something happens in the room that was not agreed upon or makes you feel unsafe or uncomfortable, you must promise to tell me at once.”
He wondered about that as they met the others at the table for dinner. He was spoiled from all the meals that’d warmed his belly, so when Miss Celestine entered the room to serve the roasted meat, his mouth watered on cue.
“Madam Langley will be late,” Miss Celestine announced, and the men eyed one another. Very strange… “She insisted you begin without her.”
“Is it Wednesday again?” Oscar asked with a smirk, and the room filled with uncomfortable silence. Galen didn’t know if it was because of him being in attendance or not.
“She deserves time to herself,” Bellamy said, cutting into his meat.
“Hear, hear,” Azriel replied, which surprised Galen, given how soft-spoken he normally was. These men were protective of their madam and undoubtedly felt indebted for what she’d provided them. And he could understand why. Shivering in the cold already felt like a distant memory, which was dangerous. He needed to keep reminding himself that he would be leaving in only a handful of days.
“She’ll likely feel guilty anyway,” Sparrow said, and Wren agreed.
Galen was curious to know where the madam was that evening, but he didn’t dare ask. Instead, he thought of the responsibility she carried on her shoulders, and now the initial wariness she radiated upon first meeting him made sense. His aunt and uncle had similar auras, but theirs were tinged with red undertones, which was why he’d always been careful not to do anything wrong that might get him the boot. But, as it turned out, he’d ruined it all on his own.
“Madam Langley is definitely protective of you and this establishment. I can see it in her…” He trailed off, wincing, and wishing his mouth hadn’t gotten ahead of his brain, as it sometimes did.
“In her what?” Wren asked.
He shook his head, suddenly nervous about saying too much. “Never mind.”
“C’mon,” Oscar said. “You know all about us, but we know little of you.”
They were right. They accepted him without question, even though he was only a temporary guest. And he actually relished having some company as well as a bed to call his own at night, borrowed or not. With each passing day, he felt more comfortable, and he enjoyed getting to know the lads.
Some chatted more than others—Oscar, definitely. He seemed to know the particulars about everyone, but enjoyed talking about himself most of all. Through bits of information gleaned here and there, Galen had learned about the precarious situations the men had been involved in, just like Madam Langley had hinted at. Galen had not pushed for details, but some had shared their tragedies on their own. Oscar’s father had caught him in a compromising position and banished him from their home. The twins had lost their parents in a carriage accident and only had each other to rely on. What the lads had been through seemed to help them relate to one another.
But Oscar’s incessant sharing would occasionally get on the others’ nerves. Edward’s, of course, who was difficult to get to know because he mostly kept to himself. But Galen was also surprised to hear Bellamy getting in spirited debates with Oscar sometimes. Percy as well. Charles and Francis seemed to only watch, quietly amused by their interactions.
That was what made Galen decide to share another small detail of his life. They already knew he was a whore and that a horrible man had knocked him unconscious nearly a week ago now.
“I could see Madam Langley’s protectiveness and concern in her aura,” he said to stunned faces around the table. “It’s nothing really… In the most simplistic terms, I can see the very heart of someone. It registers for me in colors, and usually alerts me if someone has cruel or wicked intentions.”
And reflects the pulsing beat of their emotions, which can change, but not at the very core. Not that he’d explain any of that—it seemed too convoluted, and Galen himself found it hard to understand how it worked.
