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He scraped his fingernails along the flesh of his arms, simultaneously feeling pain and relief as his skin broke and small drops of blood appeared on his flesh. He repeated the process – more pain – more release. In the water, Narweh’s blood swirled with his. He didn’t know what to feel at the sight of it. Numbness assailed him. He stared, transfixed as the blood of the man who tortured him for so long, dissipated into the water surrounding him.
Who was he now?
He was no longer Kéleb, no longer Narweh’s Dog. It was the only name he had ever known, the only thing he had ever been.
He’s dead. He’s truly dead.
His thoughts returned to Tehran, returned to the night he murdered his owner, his tormentor, and his caretaker. Kéleb had lifted the gun and Narweh’s face had registered shock, then fear, only for a moment. Then, he had given, Kéleb, the look – the one to remind him he was less than human in Narweh’s eyes – and then Kéleb squeezed the trigger. He was thrown by the force of the powerful weapon.
He missed it.
He missed the moment of Narweh’s death.
Bits of gore sprayed his hair, face and chest, but he did not register them. He scrambled toward the body. No gurgling, no gasping…only a corpse. And he felt…sorrow. Narweh had never begged. He had never knelt at Kéleb’s feet and begged his mercy and forgiveness.
No, Narweh had never begged, but he was dead. And under the sorrow, there was blessed relief.
But you have a new owner now, don’t you? Caleb.
He screwed his eyes shut for a moment and took a deep breath. Then, he did as Rafiq asked and washed his old life from his skin.
***
Caleb woke, startled and anxious. He reached for the dream as it raced to abandon his conscious mind. There was something…something important. It was gone.
Frustrated, it took him a moment to realize Kitten’s eyes were scanning him. She looked like shit. The bruises on her face were much more pronounced than they had been the night before. Her eyes were swollen and purple against her russet skin. Her nose, free of tape, also looked inflamed. Under the damage, he could still see Kitten, surviving despite it all.
His heart again – it seemed to pinch in his chest. He kept it from registering on his face. He struggled for words. After their encounter last night and still reeling from Rafiq’s text, what could he possibly say? All he had to offer was more bad news.
He settled for stating the obvious, “It’s morning.”
Kitten’s brows furrowed and she winced from the effort. “I know. I’ve been up for a while,” she said morosely.
Caleb glanced away, feigning interest in his surroundings. He’d nearly fucked up—nearly fucked her. That could never happen. A sense of urgency filled him. They had to leave this place, as soon as possible, but he couldn’t make himself say the words. The night had been intense.
“Are you…in pain? Can you sit up?” Caleb whispered.
“I don’t know. I’m in too much pain to try,” Kitten whispered just as softly.
They stared at each other, a second too long, gazes touching too closely before they both quickly, almost frantically, darted their eyes away, choosing to look anywhere but at one another.
“Or maybe I’m just too terrified to think about what’s going to happen today. Or tomorrow. Maybe I just want to go back to sleep and wake up from my life.” There was pain in her voice and he knew it wasn’t physical. Caleb glanced in her direction and noticed she wasn’t crying. She was simply staring off into space, too numb for tears, Caleb supposed. He knew the feeling well.
And now this. Limbo. A state of existence he’d never experienced. He felt immobilized by what had happened, about everything, because as fucked up as it had been before, he’d been in control and removed. Now, their situation was untenable. Their continued existence around each other would only cause more pain and agony. Caleb scratched his face, digging his fingers into his stubble, as if, by distraction, he would never have to look at Kitten again, never have to tell her they had to leave, and, despite last night…she was still his prisoner. He was still her master.
“Fuck it,” she huffed, her voice strong, as though awakening from the numb void and becoming vibrant and willful again, “let’s get this over with, Caleb. What the hell happens, now?”
Caleb. He just looked at her. There it was again, the use of his name. He knew he should correct her, force her to address him as Master, and restore the delineation, the barriers between them, but he just couldn’t, fucking, do it. He was exhausted! So, damn, exhausted.
“Breakfast, I suppose. Afterward, we have to leave. Beyond that, I don’t care to discuss it,” he said. He tried to force some semblance of levity, but it fell flat and Kitten knew it.
“And last night?” She tried to keep her tone neutral, but Caleb knew her too well now and he didn’t have to guess at what she was really asking. She wanted to know if she meant something to him, if the fact they’d almost...fucked, changed his mind about selling her into slavery. The answer was yes…and, no. Vladek still needed to pay, and Kitten, still had her part to play. They were past the point of no return.
“I told you everything you wanted to know.” He paused, tempering his tone. “I’m not saying any more. So, stop asking.” He bolted out of bed and rushed toward the bathroom. Inside, he avoided his reflection and searched for a toothbrush. Two of them sat near the sink. He chose the least chewed and put some toothpaste on it. Germs were the least of his concerns. Although he’d showered only hours ago, he turned on the hot water, only the hot water, and set about stripping from his borrowed clothes.
The water scalded him and his own body fought to remove itself from the punishing temperature of the water, but Caleb, wouldn’t allow it. He forced himself to feel the stinging pain. He gritted his teeth and ignored the fact his skin would probably blister in places. Placing his hands against the shower wall he let the torrid water and multiple shower heads beat his confusion out of him. His back felt tight, already sensitive. The scars he wore tingled and came alive.
It was the feeling he was looking for. The scars reminded him who he was, where he’d come from and why he needed to move forward with his mission. The water stung against his ass and his genitals, and he felt the lump in his throat building and rising into his mouth. He would never let it out. He would swallow it down and keep it prisoner in his chest. He allowed his hands to come down and shield his cock and balls from the punishing heat of the water.
There was a knock on the door and Caleb’s head whipped toward it. Kitten had stepped inside, announcing herself with a knock, but not waiting for his answer. Shock assailed him. He couldn’t keep it from his face and without thinking he scrambled to turn the cold water on. This was private!
Well, at least she didn’t run. But where would she have gone anyway?
Kitten looked at him…everywhere. Even through the intense amount of steam, he could see her fierce blush. Blushing virgin or not, her eyes did not deviate from his person.
Their eyes finally met.
“I…,” Kitten, cleared her throat and she began again, but nothing came. She wasn’t blushing, anymore.
“Did you need something,” Caleb snapped. He’d been trying to rebuild his composure but her interruption left him feeling exposed somehow, even vulnerable, and he didn’t like it. However, she was also naked, never having dressed again since last night, and that was confusing as well. His eyes took her in, inch by inch, and all sense evaporated. Beneath his hands, his cock stirred. He wanted to wince at the stinging sensation of his punished flesh stretching and expanding but it didn’t hurt as much as it should have because pain and pleasure were suddenly almost one in the same.
Kitten straightened her spine, her posture confident. “Yes. I need something. Lots of somethings. Where do you want me to start?”
He stared at her, shocked. Had she really just said that? To him? He knew he should be angry, but instead, he turned his head to hide a smile. This banter was fam
iliar, and oddly, it quelled whatever distracting emotions had just been storming through him moments before. He knew this part of the game—it was his game, no matter how much, Kitten, participated. He spoke to the shower wall and tried to keep the amusement from his voice, “Well, can it wait until I’m at least out of the shower?” And because he couldn’t help himself, he added, “Unless you’re looking to climb in here and return last night’s favor?” He hazarded a glance in her direction.
She blushed heatedly, but held herself high, “Actually? Sort of. I mean…no, but….” She huffed, “I would like to take a shower and since I’m practically crippled, I could use your fucking help. But not if you’re going to be an asshole about it.” She nodded, as if to say: There, I said it.
Caleb couldn’t resist laughing, his mood much improved, and he decided to let her antics amuse him. It was much safer and less complicated. He knew his reaction was counter to the one he would have normally had, another day, another situation, another girl. But right now, he was just fucking relieved to feel something similar to joy, instead of what he’d woke up to. He grabbed it and held on tight.
He opened the shower door and gave her his best and most salacious smile, “Well, come on in then. I’ll try my best not to be an asshole.”
She didn’t smile back, opting instead, to hold on to her anger. It was a sort of challenge to him and he accepted it because one day, her hate for him might keep her alive. She needed him and he was determined to do what he could for her. He owed her at least that much.
He stepped backward into the shower as she approached. Her head was down and her cheeks were tinted with pink, but also, hues of purple, green, yellow and blue as she carefully maneuvered toward him. Suddenly, flashes of her beaten, and bleeding body, and of his own past, merged like one vision, like one person reliving a horrible memory. Powerful emotion swept through him and he was glad the steam of the shower and the sound of the water pounding against the walls hid it all.
Caleb blinked, fighting the thoughts and voices streaming through his brain. When Kitten reached out toward him, using his arm and shoulder as a brace, he only saw and thought about her.
“Jesus, it’s like a sauna in here,” said Kitten. She looked up, her expression strained. “Can you make it so it isn’t so hot?”
“I don’t know. Can you say, please?” Caleb’s tone still held humor, but unease was creeping its way back in. The feeling of differentness between them hung heavy and dense in the air.
