AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A throat cleared, causing Saskia to jerk awake.
“Sleeping on the job, Marcus?”
“No, sir, I mean yes, I...”
“At least you were with her and not sleeping where she couldn’t reach you.”
Saskia pulled her hand back through the bars and watched Marcus get up and wander out of the gallery without even a backward glance in her direction.
She’d thought he’d take advantage of his position of power over her. The last thing she’d expected was for him to sit silently next to the cage until they both fell asleep.
No words had passed between them after their hands had entwined—just a long hollow silence. She hadn’t known such large open rooms could be so loud by the sheer force of their existence. She wondered which of them had fallen asleep first. Had Marcus watched her sleep before he’d drifted off himself?
When the outer door clanged shut, Quill turned back to her, his arms crossed over his chest. “Is Marcus your boyfriend now? Are you two going steady? I wonder if he’ll carve your initials into a tree.”
She stared at the bars. “I fell asleep. I guess he fell asleep, too.”
“Thrilling narration. Should I add that to the list of skills I’ll be finding a way to monetize?”
She shook her head quickly. Why was he being so weird about this? He was the one who hadn’t wanted her sleeping in his bed. He was the one who’d given Marcus free reign with her with few boundaries. Was hand holding on the banned list now? She didn’t dare ask. Saskia liked to think she had more sense than that.
If he was going to be so goddamned jealous, he didn’t have to let Marcus do anything with her. He could pay him overtime or shift pay or whatever like anybody else. He’d probably add whatever he paid Marcus to guard her to her growing debt, anyway. They both knew he never intended on releasing her. It was all a charade.
He’d probably never stop punishing her for what must in reality be the equivalent of stealing twenty dollars from his pocket.
Quill unlocked the cage. “Go get dressed. I’ve laid clothes on the bathroom bench for you to wear. Then you will join me in the dining room for breakfast at the main house.”
Saskia wassurprised he’d allowed her clothing. It was only a short, green sundress, but it was something. Kind of. The dress was the right size, but the straps didn’t want to stay up. As usual. At least the bodice would keep the dress mostly in place. He’d left her no panties or bra. Though he’d thoughtfully brought her a pair of strappy gold shoes.
If he’d thought about shoes, the lack of undergarments wasn’t an oversight. When the dress was on, she stood in front of the mirror, staring at the black diamonds at her throat. She could never seem to resist pausing in front of any mirror or reflective surface to catch another glimpse of it now.
While she’d never engaged in a long-term BDSM relationship, she wasn’t a stranger to the scene. She’d played a few mild games with some friends. She’d dabbled. She knew enough to know that this thing with Quill wasn’t a real BDSM relationship. It might have the trappings, but it wasn’t the real deal.
He wasn’t asking her permission, and the concept of a safeword was nonexistent with him. With his friends? Yes. With him or Marcus? Not on her life. She wasn’t foolish enough to think she had such a lofty right with her captor. Still. In that world, collaring someone meant something. Some took it more seriously than a wedding ring. It meant things to them that a ring just couldn’t convey.
It signified a kind of belonging to another that came with deeper affection and protection. She knew Quill understood that world. Even without the club the night before, Saskia would have believed he knew. How else could he paint women the way he painted them? How could he seem to understand his subjects like he did and get inside their minds so deeply, otherwise?
Every time she looked at her collar, she knew it didn’t really mean the same things it meant to people who lived in this arrangement willingly. But she wanted it to. Couldn’t it? Even with the way they’d come to this place? Or was it forever tainted by her theft and his abduction?
A relationship like this had to be built on honesty and communication. Those things weren’t possible now with Quill.
Saskia looked away from the mirror before she could catch herself crying like an idiot. There was a deep rift within her. On the one side, she wanted that connection with Quill. And on the other, she didn’t want to let herself be taken in by him—or at least not pulled under his charm any further. She wanted to forget who he was and somehow erase the childish fantasy she’d created around his image.
He’d laid out makeup for her on the counter. She might have missed it if not for the embarrassment that had caused her gaze to drop from her reflection.
The makeup wasn’t in some large, undifferentiated pile. He’d chosen specific colors. Not a pallet with forty shades of shadow, but a single pot of lavender. A single light pink blush. Powder, concealer, foundation, mascara. Clear lip gloss.
Quill clearly liked the “natural look”. He liked makeup that took just as long to apply as all other makeup but allowed him the illusion that a woman just looked this way rolling out of bed. And of course, he insisted she create and go along with this illusion. Next to the makeup was a bottle of pale pink nail polish—a color so translucent, it seemed somewhat pointless to put it on. More “natural” perfection.
Saskia combed and blow dried her hair, applied the makeup laid out for her, and polished her nails. She would never admit it to Quill, but the polish looked nice. It was so understated and subtle that someone might look at her for fifteen minutes, studying every inch of the facade and still not figure out what it was that made her look so pulled together. It was the kind of secret she wished another woman and pulled her aside and told her about years ago.
She gave herself one last assessing look in the mirror, and then headed for the main house.
For such a big house, there were only a few servants. She’d met Marcus and Lacy—though if not for hearing Quill speak her name, Saskia never would have known it. She’d seen four other servants drifting from place to place blending into the background. Seen and not heard. There could be more, but she somehow doubted it. Did they think she was here voluntarily? She’d certainly walked onto the plane of her own volition. No one had dragged her here in chains.
Saskia wondered if Marcus slept in the house. She wanted to seewherehe slept. She peeked into several doors until she found the one her guard slept in. She pushed the door open, cringing when it creaked. Marcus shifted in the bed. Saskia held her breath, but he didn’t wake. A white sheet bunched around his waist, revealing sleek, tan muscle and a tattoo of a black dragon that started on his back and wrapped around his side.
The room was a light blue with white furniture. It looked like something out of some Cape Cod cottage in a beach architecture magazine. It didn’t look like how he might choose to decorate on his own.
