Slave Breakers 2

The Slave Breakers
(Book 2)
Jesses Story
By Maculategiraffe
The Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story By Maculategiraffe Note: This book originally appeared as posts on LiveJournal and still contains some editing notes. The text is sexually explicit (including m/m and polyamorous situations) and is intended for adult readers. All rights reserved by Maculategiraffe. If you like the story and want to support the author, please make a donation at: http://maculategiraffe.livejournal.com/profile
Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story
Maculategiraffe
CHAPTER 1 Perfect, said Lord Presniakov, smoothing Jesses hair back from his forehead and surveying him approvingly. I dont believe even the slave breakers could find anything to improve upon in your attitude now. And to think what you were ten days ago. Perhaps I should go into their business myself. Perhaps, master, said Jesse quietly. Presniakov laughed. Men of my class dont go into business, you fool. Its well enough for trash like Alix and Holden. Jamesen and Larssen, excuse me as if they were born high enough in the world to lay claim to surnames. But a pig will lie back down in the mud however well you scrub it. Its fitting that they deal now with their own sort of filth. Gutter rats and wayward brats and runaways. Those whose masters cant deal with them themselves. He touched Jesses cheek gently. Not like me, eh? No, master, said Jesse, lowering his eyes. Still, they serve a purpose, and if they want to meet with me well, I wont turn down a contact, however distasteful to me personally. And youll be on your best behavior, wont you, dear boy? Yes, master. Of course you will. Presniakov kissed Jesse lightly on the mouth. If Id known it would improve you this much, Id have killed your little boyfriend a long time ago. Yes, master, said Jesse without emotion, moving to follow Presniakov downstairs. ****
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He had not been surprised when his master had ordered him to serve the drinks and stand in attendance at this meeting. Gregorei Presniakov no doubt wished to show off Jesse's new, exemplary behavior to the well-known couple. As for the slave breakers, their motives for seeking an informal visit with his master were less clear; slave gossip and his master's muttered remarks in the past had left Jesse and Quen with the distinct impression that they dealt only with an exclusive cabal, selected for reasons of their own, and that their master was not part of this privileged circle. But Jesse and Quen no longer existed, and Jesse alone could not care enough to speculate. His first vague impressions of the infamous couple were of a handsome and well-matched pair in their early forties, the woman blonde and prim, the man dark and expansive, both charming and almost effusively polite. The slave they had brought with them, a young man of about Jesses own age, knelt between them with his gaze submissively lowered. Isnt he pretty, Alix remarked of Jesse, and Jesse caught a quick glare from her husband. And so well behaved. Presniakov smiled, pleased despite himself. Yes, hes greatly improved lately. You may have heard of my trouble recently with an attempted runaway. We did hear something about it, said the woman Alix absently, still looking at Jesse. Killed trying to escape, wasnt he? Too bad perhaps we could have made something of him. Bran here was a runaway once, you know. It was, of course, an accident, said Presniakov, smoothly, the distaste in his voice so delicately modulated as to be undetectable to anyone who did not know him well. My dogs are trained with soft mouths, but-- the thrill of the chase, you know. They do sometimes get carried away. However, I doubt if even your considerable talents could have rehabilitated Quen. The boy was a troublemaker, and he incited Jesse here to defiance and
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disobedience. But since Quen was killed Jesse has been a positive model.
Happens that way sometimes, agreed Holden, glancing down at his cocktail glass as if surprised to find it empty and holding it out to Jesse, who mutely moved forward and took it to refill. Neither is so bad individually, but together-- He shook his head. "Sorry you lost the other kid, though." Jesse tuned out their chatter, focusing on standing straight and still at attention and refilling any glasses that emptied. He registered only vaguely, as the hour progressed, that the slave breakers were both looking less attractive and refined by the moment. Holden had downed four drinks in an hour, and his tone had grown rough and boisterous. Alix's lips, meanwhile, had thinned to a slit, and she sat drawn in on herself, shooting frightened glances at her husband, who had laughed much too loudly and too long at Presniakov's last joke and was now draining the last drops of his fourth drink, glancing around for Jesse. Their young slave, Bran, knelt in as small a space as possible, obviously hoping to escape his masters notice. Jesse managed to catch the other boys eye and lifted his hand unobtrusively, glancing at Holden as he pointed at himself. It was one of the discreet nonverbal signals most slaves understood: am I in danger from him? Bran could have touched his fist to his own chest-- you're safe-- or rubbed at his eyelid-- watch out-- without being noticed by his owners, but he seemed not to see or understand Jesse's signal, staring up at Jesse with large, frightened eyes. Darling, Alix said softly to Holden, laying a protective hand on Brans head, don't you think you've had enough? Holden slammed his empty glass down roughly and glared at her. Women, he said bitterly to Presniakov, then laughed again. Locating Jesse with unfocused eyes, he snapped his fingers. You, boy what's your name?
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Jesse, sir, he said, moving forward quietly. Jesse, your master has the finest damn liquor in the country. And my dear, sweet wife here doesn't want me to have any. She wants me to die of thirst. So she can fuck her little slave boys. He jerked a thumb at Bran, who cringed, biting his lip. That's what happens when a man gets old, Jesse. Ain't that a fucking shame? Jesse bowed his head as Presniakov started to speak. I asked you a fucking question, boy, Holden slurred, moving as if to get up. Alix laid a timid hand on his arm. He slapped at it furiously and she pulled back, biting her lips and trying to smile at Presniakov. Get me another fucking drink, Jesse, Holden said, and Jesse glanced at his master, who mouthed Weak at him. Obediently Jesse moved to the bar in the corner and began pouring with his back to them, mixing a drink with a large proportion of tonic to a mere splash of gin. You're a smart guy, Grisha, Holden told Presniakov, leaning forward earnestly. Never married. Now me He flung out his hands expressively. Man turns forty-three and his old lady won't even let him in the bed. Loves her little boys, this bitch. He glared at Alix again, then, as Jesse approached with his fresh glass, snatched it from him and took a long swig. After a moment, he choked and threw the glass at the wall. Alix cried out as it smashed, and Bran whimpered and curled up into a near-fetal position. Jesse took an automatic step back as Holden surged upright. You fucking with me, boy? he bellowed, as Jesse stared at him, wondering if he should feel afraid and instead merely feeling a dull disgust. You fill up my glass with water? You fucking stare at my wife's tits all afternoon and now you fucking disrespect me Don't you fucking disrespect me
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As Jesse backed away, Holden aimed a punch at him. Jesse felt a moment of detached wonder before the older man's fist smashed into his face with unbelievable force, knocking him flat on the floor with a choked cry and his mouth filling with blood. Something hard-- two hard things-- came loose inside his mouth and he spat them out onto the rug as his tongue disbelievingly probed the bleeding spot where his top front teeth had been. Presniakov leaped to his feet. Alix jumped up a second later, her hands making futile gestures towards Jesse while she edged away from Holden. Lord Presniakov, I apologize, I'm very sorry, I, is the boy all right? she babbled. Presniakov had grabbed Jesse roughly by the upper arm and yanked him upright. He pulled Jesse's bleeding face close and shoved his cut lip up from his teeth. Half conscious and dizzy, Jesse gasped in pain and nearly choked on his own blood; Presniakov let him crash to the floor again and turned on Alix, who stood dithering and wringing her hands. Holden had sunk back into his chair, muttering to himself about disrespect. His front teeth have been knocked out, Jesses master said grimly, while the room spun around Jesse. Oh no, said Alix unhappily. I I'm very sorry my husband he's been under a great deal of pressure lately Ms. Jamesen. Your husband has ruined a valuable piece of property. He's of no use to me now. I expect to be compensated. Of of course, said Alix, diving for her pocketbook. I should think ten thousand? Ten thousand Presniakov made a visible effort to contain his rage. Jesse would fetch easily five times that on the market if your drunken boor of a husband hadn't just permanently disfigured him. I don't think fair market price is too much to ask.
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Alix's manner grew markedly less apologetic. Fifty thousand? You have a very high opinion of your lad's attractiveness, Lord Presniakov. Fifteen thousand. So did you, until two minutes ago, I believe. Forty-five thousand. Twenty, said Alix, looking down at Jesse. I didnt like the look on his face, even before. I understood that attitude adjustment was your specialty. Forty thousand is the absolute minimum I can accept. And how do I know hes not going to try and run away, too? Ill give you twenty-five thousand for him, and thats more than hes worth even without the damage. Thirty-five, said Presniakov coldly, unless you want to address in court how your husband punched my slave in the mouth while ranting about your marital difficulties. Alix's eyes narrowed. She yanked a checkbook and pen from her bag and began to write a check. This is blackmail, she said, ripping the check out angrily and pushing it at Presniakov. He took it fastidiously and tucked it into a breast pocket. He's all yours, said Presniakov. Whats left of him. Now I recommend you take your husband home and put him under a cold shower. Alix grabbed Jesse by the arm and pulled him upright again. Jesse was drooling blood, open-mouthed with shock. Alix looked at him with obvious disgust. Jesse pulled back against her hand, gathering his scattered senses as he reached out his free hand desperately towards Presniakov.
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Master, please, he gasped through through swollen and split lips, his speech thick and strange to his own ears. "Don't let them--" Presniakov eyed him coldly. Im not your master. Shut up, you worthless brat, said Alix viciously, and then, Pick up the teeth, Bran. We still might be able to Holden? Are you coming? Holden got heavily to his feet, following Jesse, who was being dragged by Alix, feeling as if he had gone to sleep peacefully and awakened on fire in a burning building. Bran scrambled after them, looking ready to cry. Thirty-five thousand for a toothless twink, Holden managed to mutter fairly comprehensibly, glaring balefully at Jesse. Well, she's the one with the money. **** Alix slammed the passenger door of the car on Holden, who lolled back with his eyes closed, while Jesse huddled in the back seat with Bran, one hand over his mouth, trying not to bleed on the upholstery. She got in the driver's seat herself, shut and locked the doors, and drove off. Holden sat up quickly, rummaged at his feet for a moment, produced a small jar of opaque white liquid, unscrewed the top, and turned around, holding his hand out to Bran. Bran put Jesses detached teeth into his masters palm, and Holden dropped them into the jar. As Holden replaced the lid, Bran put a hand on Jesse's shoulder, smiling when Jesse turned to stare at him. Hey, Jesse, he said, and made a fist with his free hand, touching it gently to his own chest. Nice to meet you. Im Bran.
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CHAPTER 2 Here, said Holden, passing Bran back a clean white square of cloth. Help him get his face cleaned up. His voice was quiet and cool, with no trace of drunken slurring. Bran slid over on the seat and carefully wiped at the sticky residue of blood and saliva that had run down Jesses chin. Its okay, he said softly as Jesse's eyes met his. It... is? Jesse managed, staring at Bran's calmly friendly face and wondering at what point he had gone mad. Yes, said Bran firmly. Sorry about your teeth. It was the only thing we could think of to get you out of there. He leaned in and touched the cut on Jesses lip with the soft cloth. Master? Painkillers? Holden reached back again and dropped three small white pills into Brans outstretched hand, and Bran popped them between Jesses lips. Jesse swallowed automatically before Bran lifted a bottle to his lips, and he drank, the water metallic and strange from the blood in his mouth. I dont understand, he said flatly, with a lisp from the missing teeth that made him feel sick. What do you mean, get me out? Get you out, like you and Quen were planning to get out, Bran explained patiently. You had a plan, right? To meet at the place in the forest? Jesse snapped his mouth shut despite the pain, his throat suddenly dry. No one knew he and Quen had planned the escape together. And no one was supposed to know about the place in the forest certainly no one who would talk about it in front of the slave breakers. Quen made it, said Bran softly. Hes alive, Jesse.
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Jesse blinked, feeling as if he had been struck in the chest with something large and heavy. Quen is dead, he said as loudly as he could. Bran shook his head. Presniakov lied, he said. Jesse, my master and mistress know the runaway people. They... help each other out." He gave a quick, crooked smile. "Quen got safely to Karl and Taras, but when you didn't show up on schedule, he got hysterical and wanted to go back, and they came to us to see what we could do. My master and mistress put out some feelers, but Presniakov wasnt selling, and his securitys pretty airtight right now. As you probably know. He nodded at Jesses face. This was all we could come up with. I'm sorry. Jesse shook his head, his head spinning, knowing only that he couldnt afford to believe the boy. I dont know what you mean. Ive never heard of a place in a forest. Its true, Jesse, said Alix calmly from the front seat. And were sorry it took so long it must have been hell. But Quen said you were a survivor. Tougher than him, he said. Jesse opened his mouth, hearing with a clarity more like hallucination than memory the voice he had managed not to remember for ten days. It was one of the last conversations they had had. Jess oh gods, Jess, look at your hands" Quen, come on, dont cry. Im fine. It barely even hurt. Liar. You were screaming.
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If I dont scream he just keeps going till I do, you know that. Gods, Jesse, how can you take it? I cant take it and I wasnt even the one" Yeah, well, maybe Im tougher than you, ever think of that? Jesse set his jaw and made his face expressionless to look at Bran, who grinned, suddenly and irresistibly, and squeezed Jesse's shoulder. Its okay if you dont believe us, he said. Youll see soon enough. Were taking you home to him now. He wanted to come with us, said Holden gently, turning around to look at Jesse, and be waiting in the car for you, but we managed to persuade him that coming back onto Presniakov's property would endanger not only him, but you as well. He loves you very much, I hope you know. Of course he knows, idiot, said Alix. We know, and I somehow doubt Quens less effusive around Jesse than he is around us. Shut up, you castrating bitch, Holden slurred in the voice of the the aggressive brute who had knocked out Jesse's teeth. Jesse startled, and Holden turned back to him, grinning, as Alix shook her head at him. Sorry. My dad was a mean drunk. Its not often I have occasion to speak my first language, but its nice to keep my hand in. Jesse put a hand to his mouth as he stared at Holden, and the older man grimaced. I'm really sorry about that, kid. Well call the dentist when we get home he held up the jar of white liquid and see if he cant get them back in. If he cant, well figure something out.
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Jesse swallowed, turning back to Bran, whose smile was like sunlight. Tears began to trickle down his face as if he, or something inside him, were melting. It's all a bit much, yeah? Bran said gently, offering the bloodstained white handkerchief. Jesse dried his tears and crumpled the bloody rag in his hand. I still dont fucking believe you, he said. Thats okay, Bran repeated, squeezing his shoulder again. Were almost home. **** The door of the slave breakers house had hardly slammed behind them when a blur of blue-black hair and pure joy flew into Jesse's arms, nearly knocking him over. Quen, Jesse whispered, feeling the familiar warmth and shape in his arms again, leaning on his lover to keep from falling. Quen hugged Jesse until his ribs creaked, raining kisses on his face and hair. The floodgates of Jesses tears broke while Quen kissed every part of him that he could reach without letting go. Gods, Jess, they really did it, you're really here Quen kissed Jesse's lips, then gasped and pulled back. Oh, baby, your poor mouth-- It's okay, said Jesse between sobs, trying to smile without displaying the toothless gap. They say maybe they can fix it or Baldur the beautiful, Quen, baby, I cant believe youre... I cant I'll call the dentist now, said Alix from behind him.
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Let me-- sit down, Jesse begged quietly, and Quen guided him to the steps, helped him sit, and put his arms around Jesses neck. Alix was at the telephone, dialing. Holden had his arm around Bran and was saying something in his ear while Bran watched Quen and Jesse. Quen was saying, Jess, Jess, I'm so fucking sorry I left you behind, I've been going out of my mind, but you're okay, everything's--" Hi, Marjorie, said Alix into the phone. Alix Jamesen. Yes, please. She turned and made a shushing gesture at Quen. Hello, Dr. Lewis. Yes, I'm afraid I've got a bit of a situation on my hands. Two front teeth knocked completely out. Yes. No, no one you know-- a new acquisition. Yes, I'm afraid so. Yes. Yes. Do you think you can-- Oh, thank you, doctor. Yes, of course. I'll see you in half an hour then. Thank you so much. Goodbye. She hung up and turned back to Quen and Jesse. Jesse looked up at her, then at Holden. Thank you, he heard Quen say. Thank you so much. Pshaw, said Holden. Thank Karl and Tara. They're the ones who dealt with those goddamn bloodhounds of Presniakov's. Alix and I just do the drawing-room work. Swilling cocktails, punching out innocent slave boys. Nothing to it. Youre welcome, dear, said Alix gently, as Quen kissed Jesse's neck. Master? said Bran, turning to Holden with a small smile. Do you think Jesse and Quen might like to be alone for a little while? Of course, said Holden, with a quick answering grin at Bran. Quen, why don't you take Jesse upstairs? We'll come get him when the doctor is here. Jesse nodded; Quen was already tugging at his arm. He let himself be helped to his feet and led at a scramble up the stairs, across a wide landing, into a
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neat, smallish bedroom, and onto the bed, where he rolled, exhausted, into Quen's arms. The bed was wonderfully soft to his tired, tensed muscles, and he felt himself relaxing in Quens embrace. Quen smiled at him, stroking his face and pressing his body hard against Jesse's. Do we have time? Jesse whispered as Quen's hand found his cock through the cloth of the light robe he wore-- still Presniakov's light blue slave livery, as he realized with a slight shock. He noticed for the first time that Quen was wearing neither blue nor the green Bran had been wearing, but a brown tunic that was slightly too big for him. By the Ash we'll make time, Quen said softly, pushing folds of cloth out of the way as his mouth fastened to Jesse's neck. Jesse moaned, his body lifting to meet Quen's, crushed against his lover, dizzy now with more than the blow to his head. **** Some little time later, a quick, soft, oddly paced knock came at the door. Jesse jumped and instinctively began straightening and smoothing his clothes, while Quen, slightly bloodstained in places, slid off the bed and opened the door. Jesse scrambled to his feet in time to see an unfamiliar mans face peering in at him and Quen; his heart nearly stopped before Quen said, It's okay, Jess. This is Yves. He belongs here. Hi, said Yves, stepping into the room and drawing the door closed behind him. He was a handsome man in his late thirties, with an intensely blue gaze that lingered with sympathetic amusement on the disarranged bed and the two disheveled boys. Glad to see you two have been, uh, catching up. Quen grinned. Yves winked at him. The dentist's here. Come with me, Jesse. Quen, you know the drill: lock the door and stay here till someone comes to get you.
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Quen sat up and pulled Jesse down for a quick kiss on his cheek, just shy of his cut mouth. I love you, baby. I love you, Jesse whispered, tears starting in his eyes yet again, as if all the tears he hadn't cried for ten days were bound to come out in this one afternoon. He turned quickly and started for the door. Just remember, said Yves quietly and quickly to him, his hand on the doorknob, act scared and confused. Crying's fine, too, if you feel so moved. Don't talk. If he asks you a direct question, hesitate long enough for the master or mistress to jump in. And don't act surprised at anything they say. Jesse nodded, and Yves opened the door for him, took his arm and guided him out. Behind them, the door clicked shut, then locked. Dear me, said the dentist. Jesse lay on his back on the high bed in what looked to be the master bedroom, his mouth propped wide open as the dentist examined him. How long ago did this happen? Almost an hour ago, said Alix, and the realization that it had indeed been less than an hour since the moment that Holden's fist had come at him was so bizarrely funny, especially after what the dentist had dosed him with "for the pain," that Jesse had to hold his breath to keep from laughing. A most unfortunate accident, the dentist said, using a pair of small pincers to fish one of Jesse's teeth out of the small dish of milk on the table at his elbow, though, I hope, a repairable one. It wasn't exactly an accident, said Alix grimly. Jesse held very still as the dentist fitted the tooth back into the bloody socket with a mildly curious, Oh? Let's just say, said Alix, that Jesse's former master has a bit of a temper.
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Oh, said the dentist expressively, doing something to Jesse's gums with a sharp instrument. A bit of a temper is a bit of an understatement, said Holden. Presniakov looks like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, but once he got a few drinks in him-- Presniakov? said the dentist. Jesse fought back a gag reflex, whether at the name or at the dentist's poking around in his mouth. I seem to recall-wasn't it Presniakov who-- of course, I only hear rumors, but wasn't there recently a case of a runaway-- Torn to pieces by hunting dogs? Holden supplied. That's no rumor. Presniakov confirmed it while we were there. With some relish, I might add. How horrible, said the dentist. To boast about such a thing-- and in front of this poor lad, no doubt. Was the runaway a friend of his? More than a friend, I think, said Alix softly, and tears sprang to Jesse's eyes as the dentist dug into his gums with the sharp thing. Apparently they were very close. And Presniakov kept goading Jesse, you know, making little comments about the other boy's death-- I shouldn't get into it with Jesse here. Really nasty stuff. The dentist made a tch-tch sound as he dug harder into Jesse's gums. Jesse whimpered in protest. There, there, the dentist said to him soothingly. That's a brave lad. Jesse swallowed another whimper. He seems docile enough. I think he will be, with proper training, said Holden. You can hardly blame the poor kid. Here he is, his friend's been horribly killed, his master won't stop needling him about it-- I'd probably have mouthed off too, you know?
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I take it Presniakov didn't see it that way, said the dentist, as Jesse tried to breathe deeply. I don't believe he did, Alix said dryly. And I hadn't even planned to make an offer on the boy, but there he is, bleeding on the floor, Presniakov's clearly not the type to take time to nurse an injured slave back to health, and with the dog story-- well, I didn't see what else I could do. Of course, of course, said the dentist, putting something cold and metallic into Jesse's mouth. I wouldn't expect you to do anything else, Ms. Jamesen. Alix chuckled. I know, I'm a soft touch. But I'm a good businesswoman, too. Got the kid dirt cheap, and if those teeth survive I'll be able to make a pretty tidy profit. I hope they will, said the dentist, straightening, but the only thing we can do at this point is wait and see. Leave this brace on at all times and don't let him eat any solid foods. Call me back in a week and I'll check the progress. He chuckled. That is, if you don't need to call me before then for a filling. Entirely too many sweet teeth in this house! You know us too well, Alix grinned. Thank you so much, doctor. We'll see you in a week. When the doctor had taken his leave, Holden came to the bedside and put his arm around Alix. Jesse looked up at them dizzily, tasting the metal brace on his teeth, as Holden kissed his wife on the lips. "It's a good thing," he said, "that he knows us so well." Much too well, Alix agreed primly, adjusting her collar, to put any stock in any cock-and-bull story Presniakov might try to put about to save face. Not that you'd have to know us particularly well to know any such story was
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nonsense. I think having met us once would suffice. I mean, really. You, getting drunk and taking a swing at a slave? While babbling about my proclivities towards younger men? Towards Bran, for heavens sake? I doubt anyone who's seen you anywhere near Bran would believe that. That part, said Holden, "is particularly implausible. And I must say that even if I could imagine myself throwing punches at pretty slave boys for imaginary inappropriate advances on you-- instead of making inappropriate advances on them myself-- I certainly couldn't imagine you just fluttering around ineffectually and letting it happen. You've always seemed like-- well, to be frank, I've always gotten the impression-- I could be wrong, of course, but I think you'd probably bitchslap me. "Till your head spun around, darling, said Alix, laying her head on her husband's shoulder. Really, Presniakov couldn't have come up with a more far-fetched story if he'd tried. Although-- on the other hand--I suppose its just the kind of story youd expect him to come up with." "That's the trouble with class prejudice," said Holden, shaking his head sadly. "Makes you so predictable, doesn't it? Jesse laughed suddenly, loudly, and Alix and Holden looked down at him, arms still twined around each other's waists. I think he's high, said Holden, amused. "And exhausted," said Alix. "It's been a long afternoon." She pulled away from Holden to touch Jesse's forehead. "Would you like to sleep for a while, dear?" Jesse closed his eyes to consider whether to risk nodding or speaking. "I'll send Quen in to sit with you," said Alix, but Jesse was already asleep.
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CHAPTER 3 When Jesse woke, his face throbbing painfully, it was nearly dark. He lay very still, trying to figure out how much of what he could remember had been a dream. There was a brace on his teeth, and the bed where he lay was wide and soft, the room-- he turned his head cautiously-- certainly not any room in Presniakov's house. And someone was sitting beside him, someone whom he thought for a moment was Quen, but the brief illusion, caused by the dim light and perhaps by the other boy's concerned, almost tender expression, quickly resolved itself. "Hey," said Bran softly. "You're awake." Jesse nodded and lifted his head tentatively, then sat up, looking around. He saw a glass of water and three pills by the bed, and he looked at Bran, who nodded; Jesse snatched at them eagerly, swallowing the pills and draining the glass. "Where's Quen?" he asked as soon as he was finished. "Downstairs with the mistress," said Bran. "He sat with you for a few hours, but she wanted to talk to him, and we sort of thought you were out for the night. You want me to take you to your bedroom, or you want to go downstairs and see him?" "See him," said Jesse, trying to mask his incredulity at the stupidity of the question. "Right," Bran grinned. "Come on, then. I'll take you down." Jesse followed Bran from the room and out, blinking, onto the lighted hall. As they passed another open door, a man of about Holden's age, dressed in the house's green, came out and slung a casual arm around Bran, halting him as Yves came out a few steps behind. Jesse eyed the stranger, and his clothes, uncertainly; the older man raised an eyebrow as Bran, his arms
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clasped fondly around the other mans neck, kissed him and said, "Hi, Jer. This is--" I know who he is, said Jer, looking Jesse up and down over Bran's shoulder. "The famous Jesse," said Yves, smiling. "We've been hearing about you non-stop, you know. Glad you made it, kid." "Yeah," said Jer as Bran pulled away. "Just don't get too comfortable. Were running out of bedrooms. His tone was faintly hostile, and Jesse shifted nervously. Yves laughed. Hes doubling up with Quen, he said. And theyll both be gone soon enough. I should hope so, said Jer darkly, still looking at Jesse. This is getting out of hand. I dont know why the two of them cant just stay with Karl like normal runaways. Because Jess isnt a runaway, said Yves, and leaned in to kiss Jers neck seductively or reassuringly, Jesse wasnt sure which. Not yet, anyway. Don't get so antsy. Remember, Ingas leaving this week. Won't that be nice? Oh, Inga, said Jer dismissively. I dont mind her. Its all these lithe little boys piling up in the spare bedrooms, with their silken skin and shy, appealing mannerisms. Bran, I expect you to twine yourself around the master non-stop until theyre gone, you hear? Remind him hes already got a pet teenager to spoil. But Im almost twenty now, said Bran, wide-eyed. "So he'll be needing a new teenager anyway after my birthday, right? Isn't that how it works?"
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"Don't you get sarcastic with me, you little brat," said Jer, but he rumpled Bran's hair affectionately as Yves laughed again. The other one's downstairs in the kitchen. Go on, get moving." Bran ran a hand through his hair to try to straighten it-- but only succeeded in disarranging it further-- as Jesse followed him down the steps and across a hallway. Jesse could hear Quen's voice faintly, then a woman's, which as they came closer to an open doorway he could recognize as Alix's. He stopped instinctively before they reached the doorway, glancing at Bran, who looked back at him inquiringly. Jesse cupped his ear, and Bran nodded, leaning back against the wall to let Jesse listen unseen. Quen's voice, full of emotion. We'll pay you back. Once we're free we'll find jobs and we can start paying you back A laugh. Alix's. Don't worry about it. But you-- Really, Quen, said Alix. "Not that you're not extremely sweet to offer, but we do a good business and we don't have many expensive tastes. Our one real luxury expenditure is the financing of runaways. Please, let us indulge ourselves. A pause, then, When will we leave here? Now that's a bit of a complicated question, said Alix. If it were just a matter of two runaways, we'd get you out within the week. But everyone knows Jesse is here, so we have to give it some time. He can't just vanish. Why not? Quen asked a little bitterly. Slaves vanish all the time. Not from my house, said Alix. At least, not without a good reason. Don't worry, Quen. We'll get you both out. First we have to see to Jesse's teeth.
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Yes, Quen pursued. What if they dont heal? Then Jesse can vanish. A longer pause. And if they do? We'll use other channels, said Alix cryptically. How long will it take? I don't know. The doctor said a week to see if Jesse's teeth will survive. We can take advantage of that time to set something up just in case, but-- I'm sorry, Quen-- you might have to be patient for a little while longer. No, I'm sorry, Quen protested. I hate to-- impose on you-- like this. And I hate that you're losing all this money. And-- It's okay, Quen, said Alix firmly. Jesse took a breath and stepped into the doorway, followed by Bran, who put a friendly hand on his back as Alix looked up with a smile. Quen turned around and then jumped up from the table and threw his arms around Jesse again, crushing him close and kissing his face till Jesse laughed softly at his lover's enthusiasm. "I thought you were dead," he said in Quen's ear. "What's your excuse?" "You were with him," Quen whispered. "Didn't we agree that was worse than being dead?" "I thought we agreed it was worse than risking being dead." Jesse held Quen tightly. "Anyway, we're both--" As Quen finally released him, he glanced at Alix, not sure whether to follow his training and kneel to his new mistress or simply stand as Bran was doing beside him.
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"Sit down," said Alix helpfully. "Are you hungry? No, mistress, said Jesse as he sat obediently, his stomach lurching at the thought of food. Quen sat down next to him, putting a hand over his; Jesse squeezed it. "May I go, mistress?" Bran asked respectfully. "Yes, dear," said Alix, and as Bran went, "Let's talk about the future, Jesse. Jesse nodded, his stomach twisting into double knots as Alix sipped from a delicate china teacup. You know my husband and me as the slave breakers. It's true our business is in slave training and retraining. But as we discussed earlier-- though I'm not sure how much you took in, you were in a bit of a state-- we have friends whose business, so to speak, is helping fugitive slaves. And Holden and I help when we can. Besides our financial contribution, we have contacts, and a certain standing in the community. She sipped again. Did you ever hear Lord Presniakov speak of a Nikol Argounov?" Jesse flushed and tried not to look at Quen; the terms in which their master had spoken of Argounov were not ones he was anxious to repeat. "Ah," said Alix. "Yes. And did he ever speak of Lady Tatiana Rostova?" "Yes, mistress," said Jesse, rather intrigued now despite himself. "Lord Argounov's sister, right? Isn't she the one who married the--" Jesse caught himself, on the verge of repeating one of Presniakov's expletives. "The, uh, abolitionist?" "The very one," said Alix gravely, looking as if she might know what he had almost said. "Lady Rostova and I first met when she came to visit for the occasion of her brother's wedding, and although we didn't agree on everything, we did rather hit it off. And ever since I-- since my own
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marriage-- we've corresponded. She lives quite near the western border of this country, you see, and as you note, she and her husband have certain principles." "She's an abolitionist too, mistress?" Jesse asked, even more intrigued. "But- your business--" "As I said, we don't agree on everything. But she's a dear woman and she's been invaluable to us as a contact. She's not received in society here, of course, but she does visit her brother from time to time. If your teeth survive-- which I certainly hope they will-- I think we may have to arrange a visit with her. She might be interested in buying." "Buying?" Jesse repeated, his hand tightening convulsively on Quen's. "Buying me? But--" Yes," said Alix. "If Lady Rostova's quixotic principles should stretch to accomodate buying a pretty young boy from the slave breakers, well, that would certainly give everyone around here a hearty chuckle. And if you should happen to manage an escape across the border quite soon after she takes you back home, that would be an even better laugh, wouldn't it? Westerners-- what can you do? Jesse blinked at her for a long moment, trying to take this in. "That's just an option," she said. "First things first. We have to see to your teeth, and-- it may all take some time. I'm sorry. I know you'd hoped-- when you planned your escape--" That's okay, mistress, Jesse said awkwardly. I don't mind waiting. It's just. Alix sipped again. People know you're here. And we have visitors. Jesse stared blankly at Alix, who was looking apologetic.
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You have to keep acting like a slave, she said. Just until we can sort this all out. I'm sorry. Jesse looked down at the table, his mouth suddenly dry, then back at Alix. Okay, he said. Sure. I've done it for years, I can-- It's just, my mouth. Alix regarded him with friendly incomprehension, waiting for more. I can-- I mean, it's okay, right, that I can't use it? Everything else is fine, my-- my-- He found himself blushing crimson and strangely angry as Alix continued to examine him attentively, as if waiting without impatience for him to start making sense. Surely she must realize what he was trying to convey. Jesse," said Quen softly. She just means you have to be polite, say master and mistress, keep your eyes down when there's people around. Jesse stared at him, then at Alix, who looked utterly confused. What did you think I-- oh, gods. You thought I meant sexual service." You said act like a slave, said Jesse, hearing the edge that had crept into his voice, but too angry and humiliated to stop. Maybe that means something different to you and your-- contacts-- but you know whose slave I've been. Do you really think-- I mean, for Njord's sake, what did you think I was going to think? I--" Quen's nails dug into Jesse's wrist; Jesse gasped and stopped. Quen, dear, said Alix gently. I think Jesse is still tired. Why don't you take him up to your room?
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The telephone rang, and Jesse jumped so hard that Alix's teacup sloshed, then bit his lip, fighting his reflexive urge to drop to the floor. Instead he stood, shakily, clutching Quen's hand, as Alix hurried ahead of them from the room to answer the telephone. **** I'm sorry, he said unhappily to Quen when the bedroom door had closed behind them. Ive just had sort of a long day, you know? Do you think shes pissed at me? Quen put his arms around him and kissed him. It's okay, he said. Everything's going to be okay now. Gods, said Jesse, tears pricking in his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time in this very strange day. I wish I could believe that. I really do. And maybe you're right. I just can't-- Quen kissed his ear. You think it's too good to be true?" "Good things usually are," said Jesse grimly, and then abruptly yanked Quen closer. "Except you. When I thought you were dead-- but you fucking did it, Quen, you made it. You must have been so brave and smart and fast and-I'm so damn proud of you, baby. You're the survivor. You're the toughest of all." Quen blushed and buried his face in Jesse's shoulder just as the quick, rhythmic knock came at the bedroom door. It opened and Alix came in without waiting for a response, her face grave. Quen pulled back, looking worried. Quen, Alix said quietly. Jesse. Im not sure if this is good news or bad news.
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Quen swallowed and grabbed Jesses hand. That was Tara on the phone, Alix said. She says theres a perfect opportunity she didnt say what, they don't like to say more than they have to. But she says theres practically no risk and opportunities like this dont come along every day and... she wants to take Quen now. Tonight. Jesse felt the blood drain from his face. No! said Quen immediately. Not without Jess. Yes, said Jesse, after a pause to get his voice under control. Sweetheart, youve got to. You cant turn down something like this. Ill be fine. You can be... getting everything ready for me, when I come. Ill know youre okay and youll know Im okay and... and well see each other soon. No, Quen nearly snarled. Im not leaving you behind. Not again. Jesse smiled calmly into his eyes. Dont be stupid. It's not like leaving me with him. The, um-- the master and mistress-- He avoided Alix's eye. "You trust them, right?" Quen nodded, then flung his arms around Jesse and held him so hard that Jesse struggled to breathe. Are you sure? he whispered. Yes, said Jesse again, swallowing a treacherous sob before pulling back to smile at Quen. This is good news, baby. Don't cry. I'll see you soon. But Quen did cry. Jesse held his shaking lover in his arms, looking up at Alix with a face he tried hard to keep blank and unreadable. "I'll give you two a few minutes alone, then," she said quietly, and left the room, shutting the door behind her.
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"Quen," said Jesse, and stopped. "What?" Quen choked out. "Nothing," said Jesse, who had started to say, Promise you won't try to come back for me. But that was stupid. Doubly stupid because he had almost said it ten days before, at Presniakov's. And he'd known, even then, that Quen wouldn't go at all if he knew Jesse didn't believe they could both make it.
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CHAPTER 4 Alix gave them more than a few minutes perhaps twenty and although Quen had stopped crying by the time she came back, Jesse was thankful when she came back to take him. They kissed at the door to the bedroom, careful of Jesses mouth, before Quen tore himself away and followed Alix. Alix glanced back only once, Quen not at all, but it wasnt until he heard the car start outside that Jesse let his control slip. His face twisting so hard that his mouth hurt, red and black building up behind his eyes, he spun around and punched the wall, the physical pain that shot through his fist and elbow such a relief that he kicked the bed till it shook and he thought he might have broken a toe. Then he flung himself face down on the bed, letting the pain fill him, hurting too badly for tears. He was so preoccupied with riding out the flood of rage and misery that threatened to overwhelm him that it wasnt until a gentle hand was laid on his back that he realized someone else was in the room with him, sitting on the edge of the bed. He rolled over quickly, his face carefully blank again. You okay? Bran asked softly. Jesse nodded, trying to smile. I know its all crazy, said Bran. Im really sorry Quen had to leave already. Its good, though, said Jesse, surprised and pleased by how normal his voice sounded. They said its a perfect opportunity. Yeah, said Bran, its good, but its too bad. I was thinking hed be here to help you get a bit more settled in, you know, so youre not just wandering around all disoriented. But Id like to try and help with that. If you want. I mean, Ill leave you alone if you want, I just thought Id offer.
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How come? Jesse asked curiously, sitting up. Bran looked nothing like Quen, really but something in his expression was like Quens wistful look when he wanted something but didnt want to be a bother. Jesses instinctive distrust warred with his equally instinctive desire to turn that half-hopeful expression into a smile. Bran shrugged, fidgeting slightly. I know what its like to be new and confused. Of course it was easier for me, because I was being trained, so my master was there with me telling me what to do, but hes not training you, and hes busy a lot and Ive got free time. And He blushed. I heard a lot about you from Quen, before you came. More than well, I was the only one near his own age, the rest of them sort of made him nervous, and I liked listening. He was so worried about you. He told me all day long about how wonderful you were, how bad it had gotten sometimes at Presniakovs, how you always looked after him. I well, I sort of like you already, I guess. A real, if small, smile stretched Jesses swollen lips for the first time since the telephone had rung. Bran smiled back, and Jesse felt warmed, a little of the pain of Quens departure leaving his clenched muscles. Thanks, he said. I do need someone to show me around and explain whats going on. Will you? Id like that. Bran nodded, pleased. Of course. I thought you might like to hear who everyone is around here? "Yeah," said Jesse. "There's the master and mistress, Alix and Holden, right, and then that old guy, Jer, and Yves-- they're both slaves? And there's someone named Inga?" "Good memory," said Bran. "Yeah, Jer and Yves and I all belong to the master. Yves is a sweetheart. Jer is too, once you get to know him, but he's a little jumpy around people he sees as a threat it might take him a while to warm up to you. Inga's a trainee, shes seventeen, but she'll be leaving this
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week, so you probably won't see much of her-- but she's nice, anyway. The mistress has a slave named Greta, red hair, about thirty-five--" "They like them well broken in, huh?" said Jesse, interested. "I guess you could put it like that," said Bran wryly. "Yves and Greta have both lived here almost twenty years. They're sort of-- part of the family. Plus, well, it's a long story, but Greta, when she was young, she got pregnant, and the master and mistress sort of adopted her daughter." "They took her baby?" Jesse asked with appalled fascination. "I bet that kept Greta in line!" "It wasn't like that," said Bran, surprised. "They treat her like she's really their daughter. I mean, she knows Greta's her real mother, but-- she's nineteen now, Miss Valor is, she just recently moved out and got her own place, she's on scholarship at the university in Arthenia. But she comes over for dinner pretty often, so you'll see her too, probably. Tall, dark hair, very intense, scared the shit out of me when I first got here-- she's particularly good at pushing the master's buttons." "Great," said Jesse. "Sounds like a lot of fun for the slaves." Bran smiled slightly. "You don't have anything to worry about. Really. The master and mistress are-- they're-- you can trust them." "Mmm." Jesse looked away. "I'm-- not quick to trust people, Bran. Especially not people who can legally kill me if I piss them off. How about me? Bran asked, serious again. Think you could trust me? Quen did. Jesse smiled a little bitterly. Quen trusted trusts people, yeah. I mean, you seem really nice, and youre being sweet as hell to me so far. But--
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Fair enough, said Bran philosophically. He hesitated, then said shyly, Do you, um would you like me to sleep here tonight? With you? Is that okay? Jesse asked, surprised. I mean, with your with the master and everything? Bran blushed. Sleeping in the same bed, thats fine. And if you wanted to you know touch, hold each other? But if you want sex, or anything like that, Ill have to ask him for permission. I dont think hed mind, but Id have to ask. No sex, said Jesse quickly. But sleeping. Yeah, that sounds nice. Bran undressed rather self-consciously, and folded his tunic neatly; Jesse dropped Presniakovs tunic to the floor with a distaste that probably would have expressed itself with greater violence if Bran hadnt been watching. Theres one in the drawer there, said Bran tentatively. I mean a green one. Like mine. For in the morning. Great, said Jesse again, and Bran smiled a little wryly at his palpable lack of enthusiasm, then flicked out the light. They climbed into bed from opposite sides and lay down, not quite touching. Thanks for this, Bran, Jesse said softly. I wouldnt have liked to wake up alone. I know, said Bran gently, and moved closer in the dark, cuddling rather tentatively up against Jesse. Jesse moved closer as well, and kissed Bran impulsively on his naked shoulder. You sure you dont want to have sex? Bran whispered. Im pretty sure I can get permission.
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No, I dont want to, said Jesse rather shortly, and was surprised when Bran pulled away immediately. Sorry, I just Im really tired. Course you are, said Bran, sounding a little muffled. Been a long day. Sleep well, Jess. See you in the morning, okay? Jesse lay still, his cock achingly hard, missing Brans touch. He wondered for a moment if he should tell Bran hed changed his mind. But the idea of Bran asking permission from Holden was somehow insufferable, and he turned over, letting himself for the first time in ten days think about Quen. **** Jesse woke up the next morning enveloped in warm arms and legs. For a moment he thought it was Quen wrapped around him, and panicked, jerking himself violently away; then he saw Brans hair and heard his slight groan of protest as he came awake. Heart still pounding, he tried to lie still, remembering where he was. Oh, said Bran groggily. Damn. Sorry. He peeled himself the rest of the way off of Jesse, looking sheepish. I should have warned you-- I can get a bit clingy in my sleep. Sorry to bother you. No, no, said Jesse awkwardly. You didnt. I just its fine. Thanks. Ill try to keep my hands to myself in the future. I mean if you want to Bran looked down. We dont have to do that again. Ive got my own bed and all. Amused by Brans shyness, Jesse smiled reassuringly. No, it was nice. Id like to. Bran looked up, relieved, his glance lighting on the clock by the bed.
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Damn, he said again. Throw on your clothes, were late for breakfast. Top drawer there, by the bed. As Jesse scrambled to do so, someone knocked at the door. Come in, Bran called, half into his tunic. Holden came in, darkly handsome in steel gray and black, and Jesses heart gave another unexpected lurch of terror. He glanced at Bran, who didn't kneel, so Jesse didn't either, but his hands shook as he tried to unfold the unfamiliar green garment. Morning, said Holden, smiling and holding out a hand to Bran; Bran went to him eagerly, offering his mouth for a kiss, and Holden obliged, pulling Bran close and embracing him with obvious affection. You two coming down? We overslept, master, said Bran apologetically, stepping back as Holden let him go. I came in earlier and you both looked very comfortable, said Holden, and Jesses pulse raced. Presniakov had only had to catch Jesse and Quen asleep and entwined once to cure them of the habit forever. I didnt like to wake you. How late were you up? Not much after Quen left, said Bran. I offered to show Jesse around and help him get adjusted, and he let me sleep here. Thats nice, Holden said, then looked at Jesse curiously. You okay? Jesse moistened his lips and nodded. Maybe hes just nervous around you, master, said Bran. You did punch him in the mouth yesterday for no apparent reason. Mmm. Good point. Did I mention Im sorry about that, Jesse?
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Jesse nodded silently. I am. Really. And you dont have to come down to breakfast if you dont want to. Fox made a few things that should be okay on your teeth, but she can leave them in the kitchen for you if youd rather take it easy today, and Bran can bring them up to you later. Jesse nodded again. You can stay with him, Bran, if you want to, said Holden. Im taking Inga to Galenovas again this morning, and we probably wont be back until after lunch. Then-- well, you know how Jers doing right now. I think in his mind there are at least six teenage boys currently staying here, and Im fucking five of them. Ill need to spend some time with him this afternoon, see if we cant get it down to two and one. Todays your day to go to the market, right? Want me to get someone else to go? Or would Jesse like to go with you? Bran glanced at Jesse. Jess? Feeling up to getting out of the house? It might be nice. Take your mind off things. Sure, said Jesse, and cleared his throat. If it sure. Fine, said Holden. You know where we keep the cash, Bran. Take some extra and browse around a bit if you like have fun, annoy the vendors, try and get Jesse to relax a little. No solid food for him until those teeth heal, though, okay? Bran nodded, smiling into Holdens eyes. Thank you, master. Holden kissed him again, lightly. My pleasure, sweetheart. Whats wrong, Jess? Bran asked when Holden was gone. Jesse sighed. Im sorry. I guess he just makes me nervous, like you said.
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Bran nodded. Dont judge him on the way he acted at Presniakovs. Hes not like that, not at all. Hes nice. Sure, said Jesse, then gave Bran a quick smile. You in love with him or something? Bran blushed crimson. Is it really that obvious? Im observant, said Jesse, touching Brans hot cheek gently. Wow. Ive never met a slave in love with his master before. I thought they were mythical. Lucky him. Lucky me, you mean, said Bran, smiling a little. Nah, said Jesse. Pretty sure I meant lucky him. Must be fun for him, having so many slaves, you and Yves and Jer all just to serve him, right? Plus whoever hes training? Young and tender, old and broken in, scared and confused... all desperate for his attention. Yeah, that's not fucked up at all." Bran raised his eyebrows. Youve been here about fifteen hours, Jess, and for twelve of them you were asleep. Observant or not, Im pretty sure you dont know my master as well as I do just yet. Jesse laughed, rather liking the flash of defiance from the shy boy. No impugning the master's honor in front of you, huh? Okay, fine. I can keep my mouth shut. Just don't expect me to fall in love with him, too." "Believe me," said Bran, "thats the last thing I want. You want me to go down and grab you your breakfast? Ill get something for me too, and we can eat and get out of here.
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CHAPTER 5 Jesse felt almost like a kid again as he and Bran wandered the cheerfully bustling market, except that he was wearing shoes and considering the circumstances didnt feel it was politic to steal anything. Several of the merchants seemed to know Bran and made light chatter with him as he and Jesse admired their wares; others gave them cool stares or shook their heads indulgently, obviously dubious whether the two young men had any money to spend, but willing to indulge their poking and prying. Bran made several purchases that were clearly routine while Jesse wandered off to play with brightly colored toys or flip through lavishly illustrated books, though he refused to let Bran buy him anything with Holdens money. Im costing them enough money, just being here, he said, and Bran raised an eyebrow, but didnt argue. One matronly woman at a fruit stall tossed an apple at Bran as he started to walk past her, and he caught it, laughing, and turned back. I have to bribe you to notice Im alive, now? she complained goodnaturedly, and, as Bran started to fish in the pouch slung around his waist, No, love, keep your masters money, just so you give me that pretty smile of yours. Whos your new friend? Marta, this is Jesse, said Bran, with a dazzling rendition of the smile shed asked for. And has Jesse got a smile to give me? Marta asked, turning to Jesse, who looked down, uneasy with her familiarity and rather conscious of the brace on his teeth. No? Then Ill take a coin. Whatll it be? He cant have anything, said Bran apologetically. But could I get a couple of pears for Inga?
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How is Inga? Marta asked, slipping the pears into a paper sack. Ready for the big day? Definitely, Bran grinned. Shes really excited. Thanks, Marta. He gave the woman a coin and took the paper sack she handed him, tucking the apple inside as well. So conscientious, isnt he, Jesse? Marta said fondly, winking at Bran. Wouldnt dream of eating anything without asking permission first. If his master found out, he might very well frown, and we couldnt have that, could we? She certainly seemed to know a lot about you, said Jesse as they walked on. They know us around here, said Bran, still a little pink from Martas teasing. I mean, all of us people mostly know who we are, the slave breakers slaves. Some of them are sort of nervous around us, but He stopped talking and walking at the same time. Jesse turned to find a pretty young girl in a faded blue dress that was much too small for her, clutching at Brans arm. Bran, I need to talk to you, she said, ignoring Jesse. Sure, Trini, said Bran, looking concerned. Jesse didnt blame him; he hadnt seen such a scared expression since his own in Presniakovs mirror the night Quen had run. Whats wrong? The girl hauled at his arm, dragging him closer. I messed up, she almost whispered. What happened? Bran asked gently. Tell me.
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The girl leaned even closer to Bran and said something too softly for Jesse to hear. Trin-- why didnt you talk to Yves yesterday? She shrugged, tears spilling down her cheeks. Its okay, said Bran, putting an arm around her and kissing her on the temple. Meet me here about seven tomorrow morning at Leafs stall. Can you? Cheer up, sweetheart. Everythings going to be fine. Yeah? she said hopefully, pulling back to examine his face. Yeah, said Bran, smiling at her, and she beamed back, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, and turned to hurry away. What was all that about? Jesse asked, bemusedly watching the girls retreat. Bran sighed. The kids around here I mean the kids who know theyre going to get sold they like to chat with us sometimes, get a feel for whats about to happen to them. So when theyre in trouble What kind of trouble? All kinds of trouble. Bran grimaced. Parent trouble, sometimes a certain kind of parent gets grabby as hell in those last couple of weeks. Or if theres a sweetheart, and they want, you know, one perfect moment to remember forever. I was lucky my parents were dead, and my granddad really didnt give a shit about me except for the money he could get and I never had a lover. I actually thought things might get better after I was sold. Jesse was surprised by how much the bitterness in Brans normally sweet voice upset him. He opened his mouth to ask, then closed it.
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She seemed awfully eager to talk to you, he said instead. Thats just Trini, said Bran, smiling a little. Weve all got our fans. Well, except Jer, hes such a sarcastic bastard they all hide when he comes out but Trini thinks Im her big brother. Brother? said Jesse, with a sidelong grin. I dont know about that. Bran looked at him in surprise, then grinned. You think shes got a crush on me? I dont know maybe. If it means shell talk to me about this stuff Shes a good kid. Dont want her killing herself or anything, you know? Does that happen? asked Jesse, shocked. If theyre scared enough, said Bran grimly, and dont think they can tell anyone. My master told me they once had a father bring in the dead body of his pregnant daughter shed hanged herself and demand to know what he could get for it. Greta answered the door. She was sick for a week afterwards. Seven years later and she still doesn't like to answer the door. See, said Jesse, and took a breath. See, okay, if my master my former master, I mean. Presniakov. If he owned Greta, hed make it hed make sure she was in charge of answering the door. Always. And if it seemed like she didnt mind any more, hed make sure... interesting things... sometimes came to the door. It would be worth the trouble. For him. Yeah, said Bran quietly. Okay. I know what you mean, Jess. Quen told me Im sorry. They said nothing for a few minutes, while Jesse passed several vendors without having any idea what they were selling. What did he tell you? he asked finally.
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He said Bran hesitated. He said Presniakov liked to hurt one of you and make the other watch, that kind of thing. Yeah, said Jesse. But that wasnt the worst thing. At least when and he liked me to be the one in physical pain, because when it was Quen I never cried or begged when Quen was the one screaming, I never gave the bastard anything, so he got tired of that pretty quick. But Quen couldnt help it, he loved me, and he but I didnt mind. It just meant he Presniakov liked to hurt me better, and I liked that better too, I could stand it better than Quen. And at least when he was hurting me I knew He stopped walking abruptly, feeling sick. Bran stopped with him, waiting, a little pale. The bustle of the market went on around them, shouts and haggling and arguments and shoppers pushing past them laden with bags and parcels. He liked to separate us, said Jesse finally, and Bran moved closer, listening. Quen would be gone for days, weeks, and I wouldnt know where he was, and it turned into this game where hed wait Presniakov and wait and wait for me to ask and when I asked hed... gods, it was fucked up, okay, I dont want to talk about it. Someone jostled him and knocked him off balance; Bran reached out a hand to steady him, and Jesse clutched it gratefully, not letting go even when he had his balance back. But every time it happened I was sure hed finally killed him. And then he really had. I mean, Quen was really dead, he wasnt coming back. And it was all over. And now its started again, and Bran? I'm not sure I can take this. You can, said Bran gently. You know you can. You have to, Jess. Well Ill do everything I can to make it easier. But Quen said youd always been the strong one. You just have to be the strong one for a little longer. Yeah, said Jesse, looking up into Brans wide, worried eyes. Yeah, you're right. Im sorry. I didnt mean- I miss him, Bran, you know? I almost think I miss him more now that hes not dead than I know it doesnt make sense.
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Sure it does, said Bran quietly. Come with me, Jess. Lets find somewhere to sit down. I think you might need to talk. **** It was well past noon when they returned to the house, and the young woman in the kitchen, Fox, was annoyed with Bran. Where the hell have you been? she demanded, grabbing bags from his hands. Behind a bush with the new boy? Your masters looking for you. Bran looked up, startled. I didnt think hed be back yet. They came back early. Another fight with Kai, I guess. Shit, said Bran, biting his lip. Is he upset? Not with you, I dont think, said Fox, her pinched face softening slightly as she looked at Brans troubled expression. But youd best go find him. And you, new boy, whats your name, she added, as Bran hurried out, make yourself useful and wash these for me. Jesse spent the next hour and a half in the kitchen, rather clumsily performing the various tasks Fox peremptorily set him. He was grateful for the distraction at first, but had just about decided to rebel under her badtempered rule when Bran came back in with a spring in his step, smiling brightly. Fox, he said, looking at what Jesse was doing, quit taking advantage. You dont have to do all that, Jess. Dont boss free people around, boy, Fox snapped.
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His smile slipping only a notch, Bran dropped dramatically to his knees at Foxs feet, clutching her around the waist and looking up winsomely. Forgive my insolence, please, worshipful madam Fox, he said. You know Im just jealous. I thought ruining the pie crust was my special privilege. Get off, you idiot, said Fox grumpily, but the corners of her mouth were twitching. And stop being so obscenely cheerful. It leaves nothing to the imagination. Bran got up obediently, his grin full-on again. Let me, he said, taking the sifter from Jesses hand. Tell me youve at least fed him something, Fox. Im not hungry, said Jesse quickly. But Im kind of tired. Why dont you go lie down for a while? Bran turned and quickly, shyly, kissed Jesses cheek. Take it easy. No one will bother you. Promise. Jesse looked back into Brans eyes, but was too conscious of Foxs presence to say anything but, Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Bran.
Lying down on his bed, he didnt expect to sleep, but when he opened his eyes again it was three hours later and dreams of Quen had put such an ache in his stomach that he couldnt stand to be alone another minute. He stumbled out of bed and onto the hall. Passing an unfamiliar, ajar door, and thinking it might be Brans room, he pushed it farther open without knocking. He sucked in his breath at the sight of the implements lining the walls and the benches and horses scattered menacingly throughout the room. It took a moment before he registered the two other people in the room. A sloe-eyed girl, tawny hair with streaks of burnished gold spilled like a halo around
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features almost too strong for beauty, lay naked on a mattress on the floor, her skin golden and perfect against the pristine white sheet, her breasts full and high, her knees raised and wide. Stretched out beside her, fully clothed, one arm indolently flung across her belly, his hand between her legs, his darkly handsome face intent on her face, was Holden. The whole affair, implements and all, reminded Jesse of certain paintings that had hung in Presniakovs house, except for the blissful expression on the girls face. The girl noticed him first and moved, smiling; Holden followed her gaze and raised an eyebrow at Jesse. Can I help you? he asked, his fingers still moving. Jesse swallowed and looked down. Im sorry, he said, already starting to back out. I Come in, said the girl, her voice rich and husky. I havent met you yet. Can he, master? Im Inga. Youre Jesse... right? Jesse nodded and looked at Holden, who jerked his head in mute assent, and Jesse came in and knelt awkwardly on the girls other side, trying to look only at her face. Hi. The girl breathed in sharply, her eyes half closing. How was... the market? Busy, said Jesse, his eyes glued to her face as she sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes, the color of bruised violets, widening again. Bran, uh, bought you some pears. Ingas laugh trailed off into a soft, throaty moan. Isnt he... sweet, she gasped. Im glad youre here, Jess...ssse. The middle part of his name was a drawn-out hiss of pleasure. Quen was... worried sss sick about you... you know... oh
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She arched gently, her eyes closing without stress, her lips full, flushed, and parted slightly as if in sleep. Then she exhaled, long and satisfied, and opened her eyes again, turning her head to smile radiantly at Holden. Thats cheating, wench, said Holden lazily, lifting wet, musky fingers to his lips and tasting them with his tongue before drying them on the sheet. We were just having a nice conversation, master, said Inga innocently. About pears. Right, Jesse? Thats not cheating. It is if youre an exhibitionist, said Holden, tapping her lightly on the cheek in a parody of a slap. Or if youre really fond of pears, said Inga lazily, her voice still full and soft as velvet. Hope you didnt mind, Jesse. Hes taught me to come from most kinds of stimulation, but its still a lot easier with someone else watching. She smiled at Holden again. Not that it matters much at this point. I dont expect many more breakthroughs before Friday evening. What kind of an attitude is that? Holden asked, sitting up and patting his own chest. Inga lifted herself up from the mattress without strain or haste, seeming to glide effortlessly into his arms, and leaned back against his chest, her head on his shoulder, exposing a flawless neck. Its never too late to learn. In any case, I expect your new mistress will continue where I left off. Ive come a long way, master, said Inga contentedly. That you have, my darling, said Holden, slipping a finger between her lips. She sucked it seductively. Look at that. Not even a nibble. I used to bite, Inga said helpfully to Jesse when Holden withdrew his finger. Bite what? Jesse asked, unable to think of anything else to say.
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Anything I could get my teeth into, said Inga, baring the teeth in question in another satisfied smile. But it was my masters cock that got me sold here. Jesse blinked. "Former master's, I mean," she added. "I bit it. Just a little. Unfortunately. A little bit harder and--" You'd be dead, said Holden, "and that would be a real waste. He turned his head to kiss Inga lightly on the mouth before pushing her gently away. Thats enough. Run downstairs and find Greta. Get dressed first, you little hussy, he added as Inga flowed gorgeously to her feet and started for the door. Were all well acquainted with your flawless physique; theres no need to rub it in now that were about to lose you. Pouting slightly, Inga picked up a slightly crumpled green tunic from the floor and shimmied into it before blowing a kiss to Jesse. Thanks, she said, grinning, and was gone. Im glad youre here, Jesse, said Holden, recalling Jesses slightly openmouthed attention from the door to himself. I want to talk to you. Jesse nodded, training his eyes on his masters knees with careful dispassion. The man seemed gentle enough with his pets, but Jesse wasnt interested in becoming one of those, and he wasnt sure yet what terms that left him on with his current master. Bran told me the two of you spent some time talking this morning, Holden said, and Jesse glanced up involuntarily into his face. No, he didnt tell me any particulars you dont need to worry, he wouldnt betray a confidence, even to me but he was pretty upset.
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Jesse nodded again. So help me gods, if he tries to comfort me Ill fucking hit him. Bran has a very affectionate nature, said Holden, as youve probably observed. I realize youre having a difficult time right now, Jesse, and I know it can be quite a temptation to pour your heart out on a sympathetic shoulder, but Id appreciate it if you didnt pour too much onto Bran. Hes... sensitive. Taken completely aback, Jesse laughed. Whats funny? Holden asked, raising his eyebrows. You sound like-" Jesse shook his head. This skinny noblewoman who used to bring her snot-nosed son over to Presniakovs. All she could talk about was how sensitive he was. Holden laughed, to Jesses surprise, a real belly laugh. Though he refused to smile in return, Jesse had to admit to himself that his masters willingness to laugh even at himself could be considered an endearing quality, if you liked that sort of thing. Well, my own daughters about as sensitive as a cast-iron frying pan, Holden said finally, so I indulge my maternal instincts with Bran. Please try to be considerate of him, Jesse. If you dont take care, hell wear himself out trying to make you happy. Do you take care he doesnt do that for you? Jesse asked. Im sorry, said Holden mildly. Did I give you the impression that was any of your goddamn business? Jesse lowered his gaze again, smirking slightly. Holden sighed.
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This isnt an ideal situation for either of us, Jesse, he said. Youre living in my house and wearing my livery, but youre not mine, and I dont expect you to act as though you are. I wont expect obedience from you, except for the benefit of company. Ill try to treat you as a guest, and Id appreciate it if youd observe a guests basic courtesies in return, especially when it comes to certain cherished and fairly delicate possessions of your hosts. Bran gives of himself with great generosity, but that doesnt mean hes yours to take. Gives of? Jesse blinked. You mean, like, in bed? He told you about that? Does he tell you everything? No, said Holden, apparently not. In bed? What? He offered, last night, Jesse said, rather stung by Holdens amused incredulity. Sex, I mean. Youre telling me Bran let you fuck him? Without asking my permission? Fear flared through Jesse, and his eyes widened with it. An instant later he made his face slam shut, all expression leaving it, but it was too late. Sick with shame and self-disgust at his recklessness, Jesse looked at Holden and saw Presniakovs face on the morning he had found Jesse and Quen wrapped in each others arms, every line full of cold contempt, the curl of his lip almost a smile. Got you. Holden got up, stepped across the mattress, knelt down next to Jesse, and grabbed his chin, holding his gaze. Jesse stared into the older mans face, afraid to open his mouth, afraid that the only words he was thinking at the moment, the worst possible under the circumstances Please dont hurt him would leap to his lips before he could stop them. Not that it mattered, now that hed shown as much as he had. Jesse cursed the idiotic complacency that had let him be taken enough by surprise to let a flicker of fear onto his face. Like I dont fucking know better. Holden would know exactly how to get to Jesse now.
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Jesse? said Holden softly. Whats wrong? Nothing, Jesse said, shrugging, making his voice rough and insolent. I just thought it was funny that youd think that. I havent been here long, but I know Bran wouldnt do much but breathe without your say-so, and Id think youd know it too. Unless youre the kind of jealous, paranoid bastard whod bullwhip a kid for blinking if he thought it might be a signal. Are you? No, said Holden calmly, his face softening slightly as he released Jesse. All right. I thought I must have misunderstood. Unless you were the kind of backbiting, shit-stirring little punk whod slander a kid to his doting master if he thought it would work to his advantage. Are you? No, Jesse managed a little breathlessly, wondering if the punch to his face the day before had caused some sort of brain damage. The number of times that Holden had managed to take him completely by surprise in the last seven minutes was both deeply unnerving and perilously enjoyable; he found himself almost liking the man. So what happened last night? Holden asked curiously. Jesse held absolutely still for a moment, choosing his words. Brain damage or not, he wasnt giving an inch more than he had to, especially not when it came to Bran. He offered me a pity fuck, if he could get your permission, he said coolly, and I turned him down. Did you? Holden asked, still looking intently into Jesses face. May I ask why? Jesse shrugged, his face blank. Because I didnt want him. Hes not my type.
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Really, said Holden. Yes, really, said Jesse coldly. I did meet Quen, you know, said Holden, and stood up, offering Jesse a hand. Jesse took it cautiously, and Holden raised him to his feet and stepped back, examining him thoughtfully. Youre an interesting kid, Jesse. I wish... All right, go find Bran. Im glad you two have hit it off. Just be considerate, he added, as Jesse started, a little weak-kneed, for the door. And then, affecting a surprisingly accurate mincing ladys voice, Hes a terribly sweet boy, almost too sweet, sometimes I do worry...
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CHAPTER 6 Jesse? said Yves, coming out into the hall as Jesse passed another door that stood ajar. Come here. I want to talk to you. Join the club, Jesse muttered, following the older man into a neat small bedroom not unlike the one where he and Bran had slept the previous night, except that this one contained a bookshelf and, to Jesses surprise, a small desk with paper and pencils scattered across it. Yves closed the door behind them and sat down on the bed, motioning Jesse into the desk chair. Jesse sat down uncomfortably, eyeing the papers on the desk, which were covered with unintelligible numbers and symbols, then looking rather suspiciously at Yves. How are you? Yves asked gently. Settling in a bit? Jesse shrugged. I guess. Its kind of weird around here. Dont I know it, said Yves, smiling. Ive lived here almost twenty years and Im still not entirely used to it. Its a good place to be, though, Jesse. For however long youll be staying. Yeah? Jesse asked, looking into Yves blue eyes with interest. Why? Yves shrugged. Its safe. The master and mistress are good people. Brans taken to you like crazy, and hes your own age, so you wont get too lonely. The rest of us wish you well. Whats not to like? Well Jer, said Jesse uncertainly, examining Yves carefully; he seemed sincere enough. I dont think he liked me. Jers nervous around pretty young things like yourself, said Yves. His last master gave him to Holden because he considered him too old and worn out to keep or sell.
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Jesse winced. Ouch. Yeah, said Yves. It was pretty rough. The master adores him, but Jers still insecure. Youre not, though, are you? Jesse asked. Even though youre old. Yves raised his eyebrows. Im thirty-eight. Not exactly senile. Didnt mean to be rude, said Jesse quickly, but thirty-eight, its not exactly young either, is it? Especially for a slave. No, youre right, said Yves, but youre also right that Im not insecure. Ive felt loved and safe for nineteen years, and for the record, if youve ever wondered, thats just about enough time to get used to it. Jesse smiled a little. Something to look forward to, then. You bet, said Yves. Okay, Jesse. You seem like a nice kid, and so did Quen. I know you two have been through some seriously bad shit, and Im really glad youre finally catching a break. Its great that the master and mistress are doing all this for you. Jesse crossed his legs uncomfortably. You sound like youre about to say but. But, Yves agreed mildly, there are one or two things Id like to make sure were clear on. The master told us he plans on leaving you more or less alone which is quite a departure from his normal methods with, lets say, troubled kids, but he says youve got enough to worry about without trying to learn a whole new set of rules for behavior in the few weeks before you start learning to act like a free person. Jesse nodded. Yeah, he told me he was going to treat me like a guest?
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Right, said Yves. And okay. Youve got a lot on your mind right now, for sure. The first thing I want to make sure were clear on is: so does the master. He runs a business, hes got a kid at university, hes training Inga, he looks after me and Jer and Bran, and now theres this thing with you. Dont get me wrong like I said, its great theyre doing this. But the master doesnt need any extra trouble, and he doesnt always have the leisure to see it coming. I do. So if you start looking like youre going to be trouble, youre going to have a problem with me. And when I talk, he listens. Jesse raised his eyebrows. Go on. Sure. I should clarify he listens to all of us, not just me. But Jers paranoid, like I said, and Brans...well, hes a bit of an innocent. Im neither. If you want to keep me on your side and trust me, you do all youve got to do is smile when youre spoken to nicely, say please and thank you, and stay out of trouble, which Im going to define as anything that requires the master to furrow his already overburdened brow over you. Does that sound reasonable? Yeah, okay, said Jesse. Ill try. Thanks. No problem, said Yves, looking curiously at Jesse. What are you grinning about? Im just wondering if Jers going to grab me next and tell me not to give you any trouble, said Jesse. You all seem awfully protective of each other. We look out for each other, Yves agreed calmly. Like you and Quen, except theres six of us, so its a little bit complex sometimes. Right now Brans decided to look out for you, and hes everyones darling around here even Jer likes him, and when Jer likes a gorgeous teenager with a terminal crush on the master you know hes a hell of a likeable kid so you just relax and let him take care of you, and the rest of us will take care of each other.
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But if you dont want to find out the hard way which of us is looking out for which, and how serious we are about it just stay out of trouble, kid. Ill try, said Jesse stiffly. Do that, said Yves. And if youre not sure where out of trouble is, just stick close to Bran. That boy well, he was in some pretty bad trouble before we got him settled here, but its hard to picture, isnt it? If you squint I think you can actually see waves of goodwill pouring off him. Im always expecting squirrels to hop onto his shoulders and chatter merrily to him, or some shit like that. Jesse grinned at that, thinking of Marta and Trini, and of Foxs reluctant smile in the kitchen. Yeah, I know what you mean. He slept with you last night, didnt he? Yves asked. Did you have sex? No, said Jesse shortly, rather taken aback by the question. Highly recommended, if he offers, said Yves with a quick wink. Okay, kid, thats about all I had to say. I hope I didnt come off as nasty. Like I said, Im really glad youre finally getting a break. But weve got a good thing going here, and although I dont think you could fuck it up if you tried, I see no need to test that theory, do you? Nope, said Jesse, getting up. Got it. Smile, stick with the good boy, and stay out of the masters way. Good, said Yves, watching Jesse as he started for the door. Dont forget please and thank you. Thank you, said Jesse obediently, and after the door closed behind him, in an undertone so cautious as to be inaudible, And please. ****
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Mistress, said the pretty red-haired woman across from Jesse at dinner, where they sat, to his astonishment, at the same table as their master and mistress, I think we may need a new dining room table, after this weekend. Never, said Alix determinedly. The size of this table limits the number of people your master can acquire. Any more and he has to either disown his daughter or move out himself. Jer lifted his water glass in his mistress direction in a silent gesture of celebration. Nah, said Holden imperturbably, as Fox served Jesse something mushy and unappetizing. Well just have to share chairs. Bran can sit in my lap and Ill feed him from my plate. Good idea, master, said Jer in an undertone. That wont put me off my dinner. Then he can sit in your lap, wiseass, said Holden amiably, as Bran blushed. Dont you boys get enough of each other? Some masters dont let their slaves have unlimited amounts of sex with each other, you know. You and Quen had to be pretty clandestine at Presniakovs, didnt you, Jesse? By the way, the red-haired woman said, smiling at Jesse as he squirmed uncomfortably at the address. I dont think weve been formally introduced, Jesse. Im Greta. How are you settling in? Fine, said Jesse, and, catching Yves eye, managed a fairly respectable smile in return. Thank you. Brans looking after him, isnt he, Jess? said Yves cheerfully. Bran glanced at Jesse, who smiled at him, sincerely this time. Yeah, he is.
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Good, said Alix briskly. Holden, before I forget, some last-minute paperwork came today about Inga. I looked at it earlier, but it asks some rather personal questions that you may be better equipped to handle. Its in the middle right-hand drawer of the desk, if you could get to it after dinner. Sure, said Holden readily, as Jesse glanced at Inga, who was eating unconcernedly. And dont forget the physical evaluation. You should probably go see Dr. Carey tomorrow morning in any case, so then might be a good time. The checklist is with Ingas other papers, in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet. Work, work, work, said Holden with exaggerated querulousness. Ive got a writ of manumission around here somewhere, you know. Top left-hand drawer of the bureau, said Alix automatically. Salt, please, Bran. I knew that, said Holden, as Bran passed his mistress the salt, grinning. Thats where you keep the marriage contract, too, and Im always having to check that to make sure it actually says all the crazy stuff you claim. I dont know what I was on when I signed that thing. The same thing I was on when I freed you, dearest, said Alix goodnaturedly, salting her food. Dangerous substance, said Holden. Should be controlled. Pass the bread. **** Jesse lay awake for a long time that night, as Bran slept next to him, looking very young and faintly troubled. His mind raced, running over his conversations with Holden and Yves, wondering what to make of them and
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of this strange house where the family foregathered for meals and for comfortable chatter and paperwork in the lounge afterwards, and where he was beginning to feel he might eventually learn to relax a feeling that, he was faintly aware, absolutely terrified him. He was so far from sleep that he was still fully conscious when Bran, sound asleep, rolled over almost onto him, flinging an arm and a leg over him and hugging him as tightly as a lover. Jesse moved his cheek against Brans, nuzzling into his hair, which smelled warm and sweet, like tea with honey in it. Still asleep, Bran murmured softly with pleasure, cuddling closer, and his lips found Jesses cut and swollen ones. Jesse pulled back slightly, wincing, and Bran suddenly opened his eyes. Sorry! he said, pulling away and biting his own lip. Damn. Im really sorry. Didnt mean to Its okay, said Jesse softly. Just watch the lips. They still hurt a little. Oh, said Bran, blinking owlishly at Jesse, his eyelashes damp with sleep. I you mean His eyes nearly closed again as Jesse stroked the sweetly bemused face gently with his fingertips, brushing over the veined eyelids with their long, dusty lashes, smoothing the slight furrow of confusion on Brans brow, teasing the lips into a small, tentative smile. Shyly, Bran kissed his fingertips, glancing up at him with a kind of hopeful puzzlement as Jesse, as delicately and thoroughly as if memorizing, caressed his neck, the line of his jaw, the downy whorl of his ear Bran squirmed slightly and made his way gently down Brans shoulder, stroking his collarbone, then his chest. Jesse? Bran whispered. Do you? Do I what? Jesse said softly, and Bran gasped as Jesses fingers brushed lightly over his nipple.
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Do you want me? Bran asked huskily, and Jesses cock, already half erect, leaped to full attention. Yes, he whispered in Brans ear. If you still want me. Of course, Bran breathed. How do you? I mean, do you want to be the one to take me? I usually am, said Jesse, blushing slightly. With Quen, I mean. Bran nodded. How do you want me? The timidity of the question combined with the warm eagerness of Brans body, pressing hungrily up against Jesse, was so seductive that Jesse was afraid he was going to come right then. On your face, he said, his voice a little rough from the rush of weakness that had come over him, and Bran moved in his arms into the prescribed position. Jesse caught his breath at the sight of the other boys swift obedience, the invitation so promptly offered that Jesse felt suddenly almost frighteningly powerful. Not yet, he whispered. I want to touch you youre so warm, youre beautiful Bran moved back towards him, lifting his face, his lips parted, his breath coming quickly. Oh, gods, said Jesse involuntarily, and yanked Bran to him, rolling over on top of him. Sex with Quen had been many things a short-lived escape from the misery of their lives with Presniakov, a ferocious defiance of their masters power, a solemn seal on the intimacy of their bond, and at rare and precious times,
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pure joyous play. But this was different. Brans eager submission was such a heady draught that Jesse moved almost restlessly, now urgent with greedy lust over what was being offered, now tenderly protective and gentle towards the other boy who moved so vulnerably under him. Bran seemed to read Jesses mind, becoming languid and relaxed when Jesse slowed, stifling cries and arching fiercely when Jesse thrust hard. When Jesse slid his hand into Brans hair and made a fist, a subdued whimper from Bran shot straight to Jesses cock and nearly made him come long before he was ready. When he had released the hair he dug his fingers into the other boys shoulders, wanting to bite at that smooth expanse of skin, but hesitating even to kiss with his broken mouth. Bran, he whispered instead, tasting the name instead of the boys skin, and Bran answered, but so softly it was impossible to tell whether hed said Jess or simply Yes. When Jesse finally came, overwhelmed, with a stifled, wordless cry, Bran went still until Jesse had stopped shuddering, then let out his breath in a long sigh of perfect contentment. Did you? Jesse whispered, when he could speak again. Yeah, Bran said peacefully. That was fantastic, Jess. Thank you. Thank you, said Jesse, half laughing as he pulled carefully out of Bran. I mean, wow. Yeah? Bran turned his head and seemed to search Jesses face. It was good for you? It was... amazing, said Jesse honestly. I felt like, I dont know... you knew just how to move, and the sounds you made, it was like... He paused, and then added rather perversely, No wonder hes so wild about you.
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Bran grinned, embarrassed. Ah, he gets plenty of good sex. Youre just easily impressed. I am not, said Jesse, smacking Bran lightly on the shoulder before lying back down beside him. Quen and I had have great sex. And this wasnt better, exactly, it was just... different. Youre something special, kid. You sound like him, said Bran, smiling, and Jesse tensed slightly. It was really good for me, too, Jess. You were so... it was really good. Wanted to bite you, said Jesse casually, but I guess its a good thing I couldnt. Might have left a mark. Bran squirmed closer. I wouldnt have minded. He mightve, though, Jesse pointed out rather tersely. Nah, said Bran, closing his eyes. Yves leaves marks all the time, and hes never minded that. And he told me today yesterday what time is it? Anyway he told me I could do anything I wanted with you. Jesse raised his eyebrows. Did he now. Sure, said Bran, opening one eye to peer curiously at Jesse. I told you before, I couldnt do anything without his permission. Right, said Jesse. He was quiet for a moment, then asked with another stab at casualness, What would he do to you? If you did ever sleep with someone, without permission? And he found out? Bran opened both eyes, considering, then smiled a little sheepishly. You know, I dont know. Hes never... he doesnt really... threaten me. But hed be angry. I cant stand it when hes angry at me.
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And Im sure hes angry at you on a regular enough basis that you even know what its like, said Jesse, a trifle acerbically. Bran laughed. Fuck off. Nothing wrong with being a good boy. I guess not, said Jesse, if thats what you like. You didnt seem to mind, said Bran with a rather mischievous smile. "Me, I mean." No, said Jesse, smiling back. It was great. I mean, really great. I just hope he appreciates what hes got. Youre so sweet, said Bran, and laid his head down on Jesses chest. Hold me? Willingly Jesse wrapped his arms around Bran and held him close. Bran? he whispered. Hmm? At dinner, when he said he had a... a writ of manumission. Is it really true he used to be a slave? Yeah, said Bran. Both of them did. Master and mistress. Thats what Presniakov said, but I thought he was just... so they but how Long story, said Bran, and yawned. Tell you in the morning, kay? Okay, said Jesse, and was quiet for a while. Finally he whispered again, Bran?
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Mmm, said Bran drowsily. Youd rather be with him tonight, wouldnt you? Instead of me, I mean. If you could. Sure, said Bran, sounding half asleep. Wouldnt you rather be with Quen?
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CHAPTER 7 Wake up, Bran, said Holden softly. Youve got to meet Trini. Jesse came awake reluctantly, Bran pulling drowsily out of his arms. The flash of panic at seeing Holden sitting on the edge of the bed passed more quickly this time, though it still left him feeling slightly weak as Bran sat up, rubbing at his eyes. Shit, he mumbled. Time is it? Its all right, said Holden. Youve got about ten minutes before you need to leave. Okay, said Bran, sounding marginally more awake. Im up. Thanks thank you, master. Of course, said Holden gently. Im glad youre sleeping well. Yeah, said Bran, and looked down at Jesse, smiling a little. Sorry, Jess go back to sleep Ill be back. He dressed fumblingly but quickly. Holden reached out a hand and pulled him in for a tender embrace and a soft kiss; when he let go, Bran smiled, blinking sleepily, at his master before hurrying out on bare feet, one fist tightly closed. And how was the sex? Holden asked, looking down at Jesse. Jesse blinked up at him. What? How did you Im observant, said Holden, winking. Hes something else, isnt he? Jesse looked up, bemused, at Holdens friendly expression. Yeah. He is. You dont mind? I mean... sharing him? With me?
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Im selfish, said Holden, but Im not a dog in the manger. If I could have him every night, I would. I cant, so... He shrugged. But you could, said Jesse, puzzled. Yes, all right. If I could without neglecting my wife and my other boys and while still getting enough sleep to be any use to anyone in the daytime, how about that. Then I would. Jesse grinned a little. "Fair enough." Holden sat silently as if lost in thought. "Sir?" said Jesse finally. Holden glanced at him thoughtfully. "Yes." "You know he'd never... do anything without your permission." "I do know that, yes," said Holden, examining Jesse curiously. Jesse cleared his throat. "I don't-- I mean. I don't want to-- I wouldn't want to do anything to-- to cause trouble. For him." Holden smiled, and Jesse was startled by how much pleasure the smile's warmth gave him. "I'm glad to hear it." It must be kind of nice," said Jesse slowly. "To feel the way he does, about- to trust your master. It is, said Holden absently, and Jesse suddenly remembered that Bran had promised him a long story this morning. He looked up at Holden, wondering if he dared ask, but before he could make up his mind Holden stood up abruptly.
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Go back to sleep, Jesse, he said over his shoulder as he left. But Jesse didnt go back to sleep. As the morning light from the window slowly grew brighter and Bran didnt come back, he slipped quietly out of bed. *** LAST WILL I, Holden Larssen, being now competent in my mind to assign my property as I choose, leave everything in the event of my death to my wife, Alix Jamesen. In the event that my wife shall have predeceased me, I direct that upon my death my slave Yves shall be freed, and all my remaining property, including my business, all monetary assets, my house, and any other slaves of whom I die possessed, I leave to him, with the request that he shall provide lovingly and carefully for the needs of my daughter, Valor, for as long as she shall require such provision. In witness whereof are signed Viktor Duchovny (Executor) Nikol Argounov Tatiana Rostova *** Planning to bump me off, are you? Holden asked mildly from the doorway to the master bedroom, making Jesse jump so badly the bureau rattled. He looked up at Holden, still clutching the will.
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You look about as shocked as the first lawyer did, said Holden, coming towards Jesse, who held his ground, his heart pounding. Highly irregular, your daughter should inherit, slap in the face to any child on top of parents sad untimely whatever. Valor fully intends to make her own way in life. And she knows Yves would take as good care of her as we would, if she ever needed it. Does Yves know about this? Jesse asked, as Holden took the will from him and replaced it in the top left-hand drawer, shutting it firmly and turning the key in the lock. Of course. And he didnt have to go snooping in my bedroom to find it, either, since its actually his business. May I ask what the hell you thought you were doing? Im sorry, Jesse muttered; Holdens brow was definitely furrowed, and Yves was going to be annoyed. And if Jesse had had any doubts that when I talk, he listens was the truth... The key was in the lock. I wanted to see your marriage contract. You could have just asked, said Holden coolly. Its mostly stuff providing for the humane treatment of the slaves I was a world-class prick when Alix married me, and she wanted to make sure she had grounds to divorce me if I hurt Greta. Really? Jesse asked, fascinated. Yes. And that if I poisoned Alix, I wouldnt inherit the wench since that was Gretas other main concern. Her will freed Greta unconditionally, back then. We trust each other nowadays, though shell provide for all my boys if I die, and Ill do the same for Greta. Theres even been some talk of my marrying Greta if Alix dies first, just to make Valors family tree look slightly less weird. I worry that might hurt Yves feelings, though. Why dont you just free Yves now? Jesse asked curiously.
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Holden shrugged. I cant marry him, and short of that theres not much more secure a legal bond than slavery. As long as hes mine, he has all the protection and status that comes with belonging to me, and no one looks askance at the fact that a happily married man keeps a few pleasure slaves. If he were free, things like his living here and my providing for him would get quite a bit more complicated. Its fine to take your slave to society functions, but if you do it with your male live-in lover, people start dragging your wife off into corners and murmuring sympathetically at her about how its too bad, dear, and they know a really understanding lawyer. Jesse smiled slightly; Holden had a gift for mimicry that perfectly evoked the syrupy tones, overlaid with schadenfreude, that he had heard so often at Presniakovs dinner parties. And besides that, said Holden thoughtfully, it would be particularly tricky business for people who make their living the way we do. Cant get a reputation for being too sentimental. But you are, said Jesse boldly. Sentimental. Arent you? I mean-- He gestured towards the locked drawer. Holden shook his head. Yves is a special case. And Ive got history with Jer. But you cant be sentimental in this business. Nineteen years of it and theres only been one kid I and its not exactly unheard of for a man my age to pick up a pretty young thing to warm the bed and stroke the ego. One lecherous whim in twenty years, thats not such a bad track record. Is that what you tell people? Jesse asked, amused. That it was a lecherous whim? Holden raised an eyebrow. Speaking of ill-advised sentimentality, Jesse, just for the record, polite guests dont usually go rifling through their hosts bedrooms and reading their personal legal documents. Some hosts would
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find that to be grounds for revoking a guests status as a guest, as a matter of fact. Now where would that leave you, exactly? Jesse flushed and dropped his gaze. Im sorry. Sir. I really am. Its okay, kid, said Holden in a gentler tone. Consider this a friendly warning. And if you find yourself at a loose end for something to do, feel free to browse the library anytime.
I cant tell if he likes me, said Jesse pensively that afternoon, as he and Bran sat on a stone wall bordering the marketplace, watching the crowds bustle past. Bran had suggested they get out of the house again You had fun yesterday, right? and had told Jesse the promised long story while they people-watched and Jesse tried to keep his mouth from falling open. Who? said Bran absently. The master, said Jesse. Holden. I cant tell what he thinks of me. Oh, said Bran, putting a hand on Jesses knee and smiling slightly. He thinks you're... unmanageable, I think he said. Not that he blames you. It's sort of a code," he added, as Jesse squinted at him. "Means you're confused, and pissed off about it." "How does 'unmanageable' mean that?" Jesse demanded, feeling particularly unmanageable by Bran's definition. "It's a thing-- he says he can tell what slave owners really mean, when they say stuff about the delinquent slaves they sell him. Like Inga, Inga was volatile,' which he says means she tried so hard to behave under unfavorable conditions that when she did lose her temper it was volcanic. I was 'unresponsive,' which pretty much meant 'too scared to move,' and- 67
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"You?" Jesse interrupted, shocked. "You were a delinquent?" Bran glanced at him. "Yeah. You didn't know?" "Hell, no," said Jesse. "I thought you were the perfect slave." Bran laughed. "Not quite. Four-time attempted runaway. Though it only took two to get me stamped as a delinquent-- the other two were after I got sold to the slave breakers." "You ran away from him?" Jesse demanded, goggling. "Twice?" "Tried to, anyway," said Bran, his eyes on the crowd. "The second time I actually made it as far as Karl and Tara's, which did me a fat lot of good once they realized who I was. That whole 'helping each other out' thing cuts both ways, you know. They made a phone call, and I got dragged back home in chains. Gods, it was embarrassing." "In chains?" Jesse asked, wondering if the real reason for Bran's total submission to Holden was simple terror. "But why did you run? I mean, what had he done to you? To make you want to?" "Well, the first time," said Bran seriously, "he'd tried to give me a bath. The second time, he'd tried to sell me to a nice man who kissed me and promised never to hit me." Jesse stared. Bran glanced at him again and smiled rather ruefully. "It seemed to make sense at the time," he said. "Anyway, I guess he finally decided it was going to be more trouble to try to sell me than to keep me, so- here I am." "But why would he ever have tried to sell you? Jesse asked, more puzzled than ever. He worships you!
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Bran blushed furiously. "He-- what makes you say that?" "Are you kidding? You've seen the way he looks at you, right? And heard him when he talks to you? Or about you? And the way he holds you, even like he wants to crush you to him but hes half afraid hes going to break you." Bran looked down, going even redder. "That's just the way he is. He's very... kind. To all the... to everyone." "I dont hear his voice going all soft and mushy when he says Ingas name, said Jesse, amused. Bran smiled a little, but shook his head. "He's very good to me," he said. "But he doesn't love me. He's made that clear. At first I thought he did and he just didn't know it, you know, but it's been almost two years-- I'm pretty sure he would have realized it by now." "He just won't say it," said Jesse cynically. "Just to keep you guessing. It's great for him, isn't it? You're never sure how he feels, so you stay desperate to please him, and he sits back and enjoys it." "Jess, no offense, but-- you don't know what you're talking about. He's not like that. I mean, he tells Yves and Jer that he loves them all the time." "In front of you?" Jesse scowled. "That's cruel." "You really want to make him the bad guy, don't you?" said Bran, looking at Jesse curiously. "Why?" It was Jesse's turn to flush. "No I don't. I just think--" "You just think I'm stupid," said Bran.
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"Of course I don't think you're--" "Sure you do. You think I'm some stupid kid with stars in my eyes and he's the evil mastermind who's got me right where he wants me." "Bran, I don't think you're stupid. Just... vulnerable. You're young, you're... ridiculously sweet... and you're love-hungry. And he's taking advantage of that. I just think that's fucked up." "Yeah?" said Bran, with a hard expression Jesse had never seen on his face before. "Funny, I don't remember asking for your opinion." "Bran--" Jesse began, surprised. "Who the hell do you think you are, anyway?" Bran asked evenly. "You've been here, what, a day? Two? What do you think you know about my master? Or me, for that matter?" "If I'm completely off base," said Jesse softly, "then why are you so upset?" "Sharp enough to cut yourself, arent you?" said Bran, his eyes narrowing. "If you want to know, he had some very kind concerns himself about taking advantage of my youth and sweetness and neediness and stupidity, and it took some doing to convince him to let me stay here anyway. Okay, said Jesse, unnerved by Brans anger. I just meant Look, Jess, said Bran, still with the uncharacteristically hard look on his face. I know I must look like a real pushover to you. Im the baby of the house, everyone cuddles me and bosses me around, and I dont mind that, I like being looked after most of the time. But you dont outrank me and you dont know me that well and you dont get to decide whats best for me just because you think Im too sweet and dumb to know better myself. Bran"
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Just a minute. I know hes been talking to you about me and I dont mind that either, Im not jealous, but if you say one single fucking word to him about taking advantage of me, anything to make him doubt it was the right decision to keep me, Im not too dumb to figure it out, and I am sure as hell not sweet enough to forgive you. Jesse sat stunned, staring at the other boy. Brans cold gaze swept off him and back into the crowd. They sat in silence for a few minutes. Im sorry, said Jesse finally. Its okay, said Bran rather tiredly. I guess Im a little touchy about this. Yeah, said Jesse cautiously. I didnt mean to be condescending. I just I still think hes nuts about you, you know. Bran shook his head, still not looking at Jesse. He feels responsible for me, thats all and, well, he enjoys me. Everyone does. You did. He smiled at Jesse, who smiled back, relieved. I just worry sometimes, I guess, that the novelty will wear off eventually and hell get... tired of me. And then all thats left is a clingy, needy brat who got so whiny over getting sold that but speaking of being whiny, I think Ill shut up now. Youre not whiny, said Jesse, furious at himself and, even more, at Holden, for the pain he could hear in Brans voice. Youre great, Bran, seriously, if I owned you Id He blushed. Where had that come from? I mean, anybody would be lucky to Bran gave him a slightly wavery smile. Dont be so nice to me. Its not smart. I tend to fuck, Im sorry Oh, gods, Bran, please dont cry, said Jesse, panicking. Im sorry I said anything. I didnt mean to Come on, Bran. If anyone around here sees I
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made you cry theyll kill me with their bare hands, and then think about poor Quen waiting for me across the border. Bran chuckled softly through his tears. Nobodys going to kill you and anyway you didnt make me. Ill stop. He wiped his face with the back of his hand, but the tears continued, silent and awful. Shit. Im sorry. Im such a damn crybaby, theyll all tell you, anything can set me off, especially people being nice to me... Ill be fine in a minute. Um, said Jesse, as people started to stare. Maybe we should start for home? **** Brans tears had stopped by the time they reached the house. He paused on the front steps to dry them as best he could, but the door opened before they touched it, Holden with his usual impeccable timing, thought Jesse emerged, and his eyebrows shot up as Bran tried to turn his face away. Stop right there, he ordered, catching Brans arm with one hand and grasping his chin with the other, and Bran stood resignedly still as his master examined him. Bran, darling, whats wrong? For a moment Bran looked as if he might start crying again. Jesse rolled his eyes, just a little, while no one was looking. I wonder where I got the idea he loved you? Its nothing, master, Bran said without meeting Holdens eye. Jesse and I were talking and Jesse made you cry? Holden asked, with a narrow-eyed look at Jesse over his shoulder. Jesse swallowed. No, no, said Bran hastily. You know how I am I get myself all worked up over nothing.
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And I dont suppose Jesse supplied the nothing, said Holden, but he was no longer looking at Jesse. Ive been neglecting you. No, master, really, I It wasnt a question, sweetheart. Bran bowed his head. Holden leaned forward and kissed his brow. How long has it been since I spent the night with you? I-- dont know. Its not its been nice sleeping with Jess. Good. Im glad. But I want you in your own bed tonight. Yes, master, said Bran, with a shy smile that sent a number of conflicting emotions rocketing through Jesse. Thank you. Thank you, Holden repeated, shaking his head. Youll be the death of me, boy. He kissed the corners of Bran's eyes softly, as if soothing the tear ducts, and then dropped a quick kiss on his lips. Id get to the bottom of this nothing right now, but Im on my way out. Meeting Irina to wrap up the Inga thing. You want to come? May I? Bran asked, looking relieved and pleased. Sure. You'll have to wash your face first, though-- if you walk into Galenova's all tearstained, Kai will never let me hear the end of it. Bran smiled. Yes, master. Can Jess come, too? To Lady Galenova's, I mean? Holden looked dubiously at Jesse. If he can keep his mouth shut.
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I can keep my mouth shut, sir, said Jesse, more respectfully than he might have if not for the uncomfortable consciousness that it had been at least partly his failure to keep his mouth shut that had made Bran cry, and Holden must know it. "I'm glad to hear it, said Holden, giving Jesse a long, appraising look as Bran disappeared inside.
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CHAPTER 8 Rather to Jesses surprise, Bran climbed into the back seat of the car as Holden got into the drivers seat. Jesse got in next to Bran, suddenly flashing back to his last ride in this particular back seat, and put his hand involuntarily to his mouth. Holden caught the movement in the rearview mirror, but said nothing. Bran moved closer to Jesse and put a hand on his leg; Jesse wondered if he, too, had caught the quick gesture. So what were you two talking about that set Bran off? Holden asked as they drove off, and Jesse felt Bran tense. Could we wait until later to talk about it? he asked. Please? All right, Bran, said Holden after a few moments pause. But Im not going to forget. I dont like you coming home tear-stained. Im sorry, said Bran meekly, and Holden glanced sharply up at his reflection in the rearview mirror. Dont try to play me, kid, he said. You know damn well that wasnt a reprimand. Im not backing off just because you pull your little pleasemaster-dont-hurt-me voice. Bran looked up quickly, then gave his master a small, sheepish smile in the mirror. Yeah. Okay. Sorry. Talk about it later? Count on it. How are your teeth, Jesse? Jesse jumped at the abrupt change of subject. B better. Good. Are you doing okay? Anything you need? No, said Jesse. Thank you.
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Well be sure to let you know as soon as we hear from Quen, said Holden, making a turn. But dont worry if its not for a few days yet. No news is probably good news. Karl and Tara know their business. Jesse nodded. Already practicing keeping your mouth shut? Holden said after a moment, eyes on the road. Jesse shrugged. Bran sent him a curious look. Kai and Sophie will be glad to see Ive brought you, Bran, said Holden, changing the subject without segue again. Kais always asking about you. Suspiciously. Bran chuckled. Well, he worries. I mean, youre so cruel to me. He probably thinks Ive knocked you up, said Holden. Speaking of which, Jesse, my daughter and her best friend are coming to dinner tomorrow night, which will be another opportunity for you to keep your mouth shut. Jesse nodded. And Bran, Pavel says Lisas broken up with whats his name, so she may be wanting your services. If youre up for it. Of course, said Bran readily. I like Lady Kareyeva. Please dont call her that, said Holden, shuddering elaborately. Bran smiled. No relation to the first Lady Kareyeva. Thank the gods. I dont think I could have learned to like those kids if theyd been half Maria. As it was, Im actually a bit disappointed Val and David broke up. Hes a good kid. Yes, but you said yourself she was too young to be thinking of getting married, master, said Bran. And at least theyre still friends.
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Awkward if they werent, Holden agreed, and lapsed into a thoughtful silence. Bran moved a little closer to Jesse and laid his head down on his shoulder; Jesse put an arm around him, enjoying the feeling of Brans warm, supple body resting against his, and they rode the rest of the way without speaking. **** Lady Irina Galenova was tall and spare, her hair a salt-and-pepper gray, and dressed with austere elegance in dark blue, with no jewelry, but her slaves were dressed in a vivid crimson color that was particularly startling against the male slaves russet hair. Jesse thought it must have been chosen to complement the female, whose skin was the color of tea, her hair black and glossy as a crows wing, and who curled indolently on the couch with her head in her mistress lap, her pleasurable languor nearly as sure a sign of a favorite as her age, which must have been at least thirty. Irina, said Holden, smiling at the lady and going over to the couch. Dont get up. Sophie looks comfortable. He bent down to kiss the noblewomans cheek. Holden, dear, said the noblewoman, smiling back. Youve brought Bran. Arent you thoughtful. Was that to console me for the loss of Inga, or as a peace offering for Kai? She glanced up at the male slave, who was standing to the side and slightly behind her, as she spoke. Kai is Gretas twin, said Bran in Jesses ear, and Jesse blinked, startled, and missed Holdens answer. The man had Gretas red hair, but otherwise Jesse could see no resemblance where Greta was short and soft, full of rounded, maternal curves, with delicate-looking skin and features, Kai was tall and sinewy, coarsely handsome, with large freckles on a broad-featured, rather pugnacious face, unless that was only the expression he had assumed
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on seeing Holden. As Jesse looked, his gaze shifted to Bran, and his expression softened slightly. Bran glanced at Holden, who nodded, and Kai almost smiled as Bran came close enough for Kai to put an arm around him and kiss him on the cheek. And who is this? Lady Galenova continued, looking at Jesse, who dropped his eyes quickly, determined to behave himself as impeccably as Presniakov himself could have wished. Holden might be forbearing in private, but he obviously valued his reputation as a trainer. Jesse didnt think hed hesitate to punish him for Lady Galenovas benefit if he acted other than the respectful slave in front of her. This is Jesse, said Holden, putting a hand on Jesses shoulder. Jesse flinched very slightly, but no more than would have pleased Presniakov. Im sure youve heard that story. Hes the one who belonged to Gregorei Presniakov, isnt he? Lady Galenova asked with interest. I did hear, but I didnt know were his teeth really knocked out? Show the lady your teeth, Jesse, said Holden, and Jesse bared his brace obediently. We still dont know if theyre going to survive, but were hopeful. Apart from that, hes quite attractive, said Lady Galenova thoughtfully. How is his temperament? Moody, said Holden. Well, hes still grieving for his friend. I dont think theres anything time and patience wont fix, especially once Ingas out of the house and I can give him more attention. Why, are you interested? He sounded so convincingly businesslike that Jesse was unnerved. Bran must have seen him tense; he winked quickly from where he stood in the crook of Kais arm.
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Not at my age, said Lady Galenova, smiling. Its all I can do to handle these two. Though well miss Inga. Sophies really enjoyed her visits. She nodded down at the dark girl, who smiled suddenly and brilliantly at Holden. And so have I. So have we, Holden said. Speaking of which, shall we get down to business? Lady Galenova rose, dislodging Sophie, and took Holdens arm. You two behave yourselves with Bran and Jesse, she said over her shoulder. Yes, mistress, Kai and Sophie chorused. When Holden and Galenova were gone, Kai picked Bran up unceremoniously and carried him around to the front of the couch, where he sat down at the opposite end from Sophie with Bran half in his lap. Smiling, Bran leaned his head back easily against Kais broad chest. Sophie motioned lazily to Jesse, who came and sat down cautiously between her and Bran; she stretched her legs across his, resting her bare feet in Brans lap, and Bran automatically began rubbing them with a practiced motion, his thumbs describing gentle circles of pressure on her insteps. Its good to see you, Bran, she said, in a sweet voice with a slight, lilting accent. Yeah, it is, said Kai, and kissed Brans hair quickly and rather clumsily. Larssen still treating you okay? Sure, said Bran, except that hes started smacking me across the room every time he sees me, on general principles, he says. And he doesnt feed me. I live on pot scrapings and semen. But other than that... Okay, smartass, said Kai, and bit Brans ear. Bran squirmed, grinning.
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Kai doesnt like your master, Jesse, said Sophie. Why is that, do you think? Jesse shrugged nervously. Because his master is an asshole, said Kai grimly, and then, in a more conciliatory tone, as Bran stiffened, Now come on, kid, dont get mad. Youre so damn touchy about him, I swear. I just dont get why you always have to be making comments about him when Im around, said Bran irritably. You know how I feel. How does Jesse feel? Sophie asked. Jesse looked into her dark, piercing eyes. Hes nice. So far. So far, said Sophie thoughtfully. Yes. My mistress is good to me, too, so far. Nine years now. But its still only so far, isnt it? Yeah, said Jesse, exactly. Bran shook his head. Thats no way to live your life. Jesse opened his mouth, then shut it again with a snap. Sophie smiled at him. Tell us about your former master, Jesse, she said. Was he as much of an asshole as Holden Larssen? Jesse couldnt help but smile a little. A bit more of one, I guess. Yes? Dont, Soph, said Kai when Jesse hesitated. His friend got killed. He doesnt want to talk about it.
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Sophie sighed. My first master only liked to fuck girls, she said, apropos of nothing. He didnt like boys, so he didnt know about artificial lubrication. Girls got wet at his touch, his hairy face on theirs, his big paws grappling their nipples. Except me. The first time he touched me my cunt went She made an O with her index finger and thumb, then curled her fingers in on themselves, closing it off. But he fucked me until I was wet with blood. Then he grew angry. It should not have hurt me. There was something wrong with me. He hit me and cursed at me. I was fifteen. I was a virgin. He had never had a virgin. He thought his wife had been one. Hence the confusion. She smiled at Jesse, who looked back at her thoughtfully. He hadnt wanted to hurt me. Only to fuck. The blood frightened him, and my tears. I think he was ashamed that he had hurt me so much, and the fear and the shame made him angry. Was your master like that? Or did he like to hurt? He liked to hurt, said Jesse laconically. Ah. Sophie reached out and touched Jesses hair. He was startled, but not displeased. Kai says Larssen liked to hurt, too, when he was first Gretas master. I can believe it. He looks into a slaves face. He looks for desire, respect, trust. But I can imagine him looking for pain, just as intently. Cant you? Not like that first master, who never looked into my face at all. He looked for more than pain in my sisters face, said Kai. He was trying to beat her, to grind her down, to win and she wasnt even fighting. The sweetest kid in the world. All she wanted was to please Alix she worshipped her, still does and that bastard couldnt stand it.
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That was twenty years ago, Kai, said Bran rather wearily. Yeah, I know how long ago it was, said Kai. The kids at university now, isnt she? Their kid? The one he browbeat her into having? He didnt browbeat her, said Bran. She says youre making that up. Yeah. The sweetest girl in the world, like I said. Shed have cut off her own hand if she thought Alix wanted her to and when they gave her the option, she fell all over herself to ruin her life and tie herself to that prick for good. And who do you think told her Alix had always wanted a child? Bran sighed. Yeah, yeah. Youve explained it all before, Kai. He engineered everything to bring about the abomination in the sight of the gods that is Miss Valor. Ive got nothing against Valor, Kai said, threading his arms under Brans and clasping them firmly across Brans solar plexus. Shes a nice enough girl, even if she does take after him more than a kid with none of his genes has any right to. But she should never have been born. My sister was only sixteen, and he came along and her life was over, just like that. No, Kai, her life would have been over if theyd killed her, said Bran patiently. You know, like some owners would have, for getting pregnant when she wasnt supposed to be fucking anyone with viable sperm. And who made her miserable and lonely enough to do that? She did what she did, said Sophie firmly. And she lives in peace now with the woman she loves. Not many of us are so lucky. She looked at Jesse, shaking her head. Every time Larssen comes over, the same argument. At least today he has it with Bran, instead of having it with Larssen, and being punished afterwards. I tell him he should be careful, or our mistress will sell him to the slave breakers.
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Jesse smiled at the joke. And Im no fun for him to fight with, Sophie added, since I neither love nor hate Larssen. Though I could wish he had been the one fucking me for the first time, when I was fifteen. I hear hes good with virgins, Kai admitted grudgingly. And with those who arent virgins, said Sophie, with a broad wink at Bran. My mistress has told me I have a home with her for as long as she lives, and Im very grateful for her kindness. But if she ever grows tired of me and of keeping her promises, I wouldnt mind belonging to Holden Larssen. Has he ever fucked you? asked Jesse, who was beginning to like Sophie. Her sharp observations and matter-of-fact, unsentimental attitude struck a chord in him, and he rather enjoyed playing her straight man as she widened her eyes at him dramatically. Heavens, no, she said. I havent had a cock in me for nine years. Another kindness my mistress has done me. Jesse smiled again. Then how do you know you wouldnt mind? She grinned back. Ive spent some time with Inga shes a very pretty girl, isnt she? Golden all over. I think youre imagining us together, Jesse. She moved her legs slightly against Jesses half-erect cock. Jesse reddened, and Sophie laughed. Inga will belong to a woman soon, she said, though not my mistress, mores the pity. Larssen brought Inga to us to learn to please women and be pleased by them. Do you know she hadnt had an orgasm in two years?
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No wonder she bit, said Jesse, and the three others laughed. But why did he have to bring her here for that? I mean, what about his wife and Greta? Sophie shrugged. I didnt ask. At a guess, because he wanted her to learn from the best. She glanced up at Jesse through long black eyelashes. Thats me, by the way. Too bad you dont have a cunt, so I could show you. Youre a cock-tease, Sophie, Kai drawled. It gives me pleasure, Sophie agreed serenely. What about you, Jesse? Does your master fuck you? No, said Jesse quickly, and then, Um. Not yet. I dont know how hed have time, said Kai. True. Inga and Bran and Yves and Jer and your sister and his wife... Sophie yawned softly. It makes me tired just to think of it. Poor Larssen. Yeah, my heart bleeds, said Kai grumpily, and Bran and Sophie giggled. Jesse smiled. **** Enjoying himself much more than hed expected, Jesse found it an unwelcome interruption to the pleasant chatter when Holden and Galenova came back in, but Bran was obviously pleased; he smiled at his master from Kais lap. Smiling back, Holden gestured to him, and he pulled out of Kais arms and came to stand at his masters side. Such a sweet-natured boy, said Lady Galenova, looking at Bran, and so pretty. You must get offers constantly.
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I currently have Holden paused, his lips moving silently, his fingers tapping sequentially against each other. Eight. Eight standing offers no, I forgot Anna. Nine standing offers from approved buyers, for Bran. Not counting all the ones that are defunct or that I dont bother to keep on file. Is that Anna Lavrova? Lady Galenova asked, amused. What does she want with another boy? Brans unique. Plus, I think Mals in love with him. And nothing but the best for Mal, said Lady Galenova, smiling. Brans filled out a good deal since you first got him, too, hasnt he? Could I see him naked before you go? Sure, said Holden with no particular interest. Bran. Bran looked away. Id rather not. Jesse was fairly sure he heard Kai and Sophie stop breathing at the same time he did. Why not? Holden asked after a pause, not ungently. I just dont want to, said Bran, flushed, without meeting Holdens eye. Kai made a quick, involuntary movement, and his mistress sent him a warning glance, but Holdens eyes stayed on Bran. Do it, Bran, he said softly. Now. Crimson and glassy-eyed, Bran pulled off his tunic and stood naked, head bowed, before his master and Lady Galenova. Holden walked around him once, looking him up and down, then said brusquely, Get dressed.
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Bran pulled his clothes back on and dropped to his knees at his masters feet, touching them lightly, in the supplicating pose of a slave who had misbehaved in public and hoped to escape equally public discipline. Jesse had seen the gesture before, but to see Bran doing it to Holden was horribly unsettling. He waited, his heart in his throat, for Holden to grant or deny the reprieve. We should be going, Holden said. Sorry, Irina. Dont apologize, said Lady Galenova graciously. Compared the way Kais behaved in front of you before Brans a good boy. Perhaps a little spoiled. You do indulge him a great deal. I do, Holden agreed politely, and reached down a hand to Bran, who allowed himself to be helped to his feet, his head still hanging low. Holden made a few more courteous farewells to Irina, snapped peremptory fingers at Jesse, who scrambled to his feet, and turned to lead the two boys out to the car.
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CHAPTER 9 Bran followed Holden meekly to the car, Jesse tagging behind, trying to breathe, and stood waiting beside it, his head down, not touching the handle of the door. Holden put a gentle hand on his back and opened the door to the front passenger seat for him, motioning him in. Jesse climbed in the back seat as Holden shut the door on Bran, got into the drivers seat and started the engine. So, he said conversationally as he drove off. What was that about? Im sorry, master, said Bran in a small voice. Thank you for not punishing me in front of Lady Galenova. Youre welcome. Now answer the question. You must have had a reason. You wouldnt defy me just for the hell of it. I didnt want them to see me, said Bran in an even quieter voice. I gathered. But why not? Theyve all seen you naked before. I thought at first you must have some kind of mark you didnt want anyone to see, but youre spotless as a virgin, so what gives? Bran said something inaudible. Speak up, said Holden. I cant hear you. Thats why, Bran repeated, more clearly. Whats why what? Holden asked, puzzled. Being spotless as a virgin? Is why you didnt want them to see you? Bran nodded without looking up.
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Youre not making any sense, Bran, said Holden sharply. You didnt want people to see your body with no marks on it? Why the hell not? Bran was huddled in on himself as if trying to disappear. Holden glanced sideways at him, and when he spoke again his voice was gentler. Dont look like that, kid, he said. Im not going to kill you for a little backtalk. And Im not going to do anything to you until I understand whats going on. Youve never been self-conscious about your body, and youve always been pathologically well-behaved. I hope you can see why Im confused. "I'm sorry," said Bran again. All right, said Holden after a pause. Take your time. No hurry. Lets talk about something else. Why don't you have any marks? Jesse looks like a biter to me. Jesse raised his eyebrows, half annoyed by the offhanded comment and half amused by its accuracy. Holden caught the expression in the rearview mirror and mirth flickered in his own eyes for a second before they returned to the road. His teeth, said Bran indistinctly. Oh, right. What about Yves? He normally doesnt leave you unbitten for too long at a time. Hasnt taken me for a while, master. Ah. Because youve been spending so much time with Jesse and Quen. I guess, said Bran.
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You guess. But not very convincingly. Lets see. I know you and Yves havent quarreled; Yves would have told me. Is it that you think hes lost interest in you? Again Bran said nothing. Aha, said Holden. He doesnt want you any more. Nobody wants you any more. Were all too bored with our charity brat to keep your skin interestingly variegated. And then I order you to demonstrate your humiliatingly immaculate body in front of everyone. Is that it? Nearly crimson, eyes fixed firmly on his feet, Bran stayed silent. And punishment might mean marks. And itll definitely mean my attention. Its not in you to seriously misbehave, but a little defiance, just a few quiet words, over something you Gods, Bran, I really have been neglecting you. No, said Bran, almost angrily, to his knees. Yes, said Holden firmly. Why cant you be honest with me, kid? Do you think Im going to be angry at you for complaining? Is that it? Ive got nothing to complain about, master, said Bran quietly. No? said Holden dryly. You could complain about sharing my attention with a wife and two other sex slaves and a steady stream of delinquents. Or you could complain that every time you make a friend close to your own age, they get sold a couple of months later or leave the country altogether by dead of night. Or you could complain about these dreams where you wake up crying and then claim you cant remember what you were dreaming about. None of thats your fault, said Bran, barely audibly. So? Even if theres nothing I can do, wouldnt it help to talk about it?
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But I promised, said Bran. When you agreed to keep me. Not to be a bother. Oh, said Holden softly. Now were getting there. You promised, huh? Sure, I remember that. Ill be so good you wont even know Im there, wasnt it? Bran said nothing. But you know by now, or you should, that I like knowing youre there. You do know that, dont you? You see me smile whenever I see you? If-- Bran began, then fell silent. If, Holden repeated. This is a fascinating little semaphore youve invented, sweetheart. So much more invigorating than normal conversation. Silence when you agree, mumbled cryptic statements when you dont, and now 'if. Im sorry, said Bran miserably, though Holden's tone had been light and not angry. You smile when you see me if I look happy. Okay. Holden sighed. All right. Yes. I worry. I feel responsible for your welfare. So you think you cant complain about things that arent my fault and that I cant fix because Ill think they are my fault and I should fix them. Maybe you worry about how Ill decide to fix them. Maybe you worry that Ill say, Ah, kid, youre so miserable here with me, I knew keeping you was a bad idea, I guess Ill have to sell you now for your own good. Silence. I think thats right, said Holden. I also think the bigger problem here is that you dont really understand why youre still here, or there, in the house,
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so you walk around on eggshells in case you accidentally say the wrong thing and break the magic spell. I know why, said Bran, staring at his hands. Because I begged you to let me stay. What? said Holden, and Bran looked up for the first time, alert to his masters incredulous tone. Bran, my job is to have sex with fucked-up teenagers while attempting to untangle their heads. If I caved every time someone decided he was in love with me and would just absolutely die if I sold him, forget a new dining room table, Id have had to build another entire house. No you wouldnt, said Bran, his eyes suddenly bright and defiant, frightening Jesse, because they would all have moved on by now, right? Like you thought I would? You wanted me, and you were willing to put up with me for another month or a few more months, maybe a year, however long it took before you got tired of me or I got tired of you. You didnt love me and you didnt think I really loved you so it was all fine, wasnt it? And now youre sick of me and here I still Wait, said Holden, squinting at Bran with a trace of a smile. Didnt I just fuck you yesterday? Bran drew back as if Holden had reached across and slapped him. Jesse clenched his jaw, hating Holden. Everythings fucking funny to you, isnt it? Holden sighed. Im sorry, he said. Its a defense mechanism. Like you and apologizing for everything. I try to turn everything into a joke. But youre serious, and youre hurt, and youre scared. And youre wrong. I didnt keep you because you begged and I didnt keep you because I wanted you although youre also wrong that Im tired of you, but we can discuss that in bed tonight.
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Bran glanced up swiftly, his eyes searching Holdens profile. Tonight? Yes, tonight. Didnt I tell you Id be spending the night with you? Yes, said Bran, flushed, but that was before I disobeyed you. So? You really think Id punish you for a cry for attention by withholding my attention? Give me a little credit, kid. Bran nodded, blinking away sudden tears. Holden was silent for a moment, watching him in quick glances. Youre wrong, he repeated finally, slowly, as if picking up his train of thought again. Up until you ran away, I really thought you just had a runof-the-mill teenage crush on me. More intense than some, more honest than most, but and even when you went missing I thought it was some kind of, I dont know, I couldnt figure it out. But if I found you alive I was going to figure out what the fuck had happened, first of all, and then I was going to fix it and sell you and get on with my life and let you get on with yours. Or, if it wasnt fixable, I was going to wake up at three oclock every night for the rest of my life wondering what I should have done differently. But keeping you was not an option. But you did, Bran protested. Oh, did you notice that? Why? Bran asked, ignoring the sarcasm. Because. Holden hesitated, seeming uncertain for the first time. I When I asked you, once I ran you down, what the hell you were thinking, why youd run away at all, but especially if you were allegedly in love with me do you remember what you said?
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Sure, said Bran, rather bitterly. I said Id rather die than belong to anyone but you. I remember the look on your face when I said that. Sort of a wow, hes even crazier than I thought look. Holden smiled briefly. More of a not that old line again look. No, I was thinking of what you said just before that. Surprised, Bran thought. I something about how I was afraid Id change? Get all cynical and jaded, like Jer? If I had to live without love. Without hope. He swallowed, embarrassed. Something like that. The best things about me, master, theyre all for you, Holden quoted gently. Bran nodded. And yeah. That. And then the Id rather die line, right, said Holden, reconstructing, and then the look on my face, and then the look on yours, kid. And thats when you got me. What? said Bran, sitting up straight. No its not! You fought me for ages after that! Yeah, said Holden. I fought. I fought like a cat in a sack. You had me, but I still refused to believe it. I thought maybe I could talk my way out of it. Figure out a way I didnt have to keep you. I thought you wanted to, said Bran, staring as if trying to bore through Holdens skull with his eyes. I thought you wanted me. I did and do want you, Bran, said Holden softly. But I told you then, I cant afford to just take whatever I want. I dont have the time and I dont have the right.
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Then why did you keep me? Bran cried, and there was such raw desperation in his voice that tears sprang to Jesses own eyes. Because Holden took a deep breath, and his voice, when he spoke again, was as raw as Brans, painfully tender. I dont pray much, kid, but Id been thanking the gods for letting me be the one who-- helped you-- watched you- come alive again. Watched you forget to be afraid, remember how to laugh, come out with all that intelligence and humor and fire. For a kid who'd been through what you'd been through-- you are an extraordinary person, Bran. And the more I understood that, the more I kept remembering how you looked when do you remember the day we bought you from Dunaev, how you sucked my cock in the back seat? Of course, said Bran, flushed from the praise, and smiling faintly. Anything to postpone the torture. Yes, well, you were very good, despite being scared half out of your mind. But afterwards, you pulled back and just sat there with your head down, and I said something, I dont remember what, something inane to try and get a smile out of you, and you glanced up at me and you had this look on your face. Like youd done your absolute best and now you were waiting to be punished for not having done better. Like you thought you deserved to be punished, for not having a better best to give. I remember, said Bran very quietly. You looked at me you looked strange. I felt strange. I've seen some fucked-up shit in my line of work, but that look, I-- and once I'd started to understand what kind of person you were, it was even worse. But at least I could tell myself Id see to it that look was never on your face again. And then at Karls, after youd said your piece, after you looked into my face and saw that I still wasnt buying it there it was. The same fucking look. Only a thousand times worse, because by then I knew you, and Id seen such light on your face, and you hadnt just offered me your mouth, youd offered me everything. The best things about you.
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And there you were sitting in front of me, believing all over again that you were nothing, that you couldnt ever be good enough. For me, for fucks sake. It was like a nightmare. I He broke off, swallowing. Brans eyes were glued to his master. Holdens were on the road. I thought, this isnt happening, he cant really still I was furious. With myself, with Dunaev, with your fucking grandfather. I was ranting, I was explaining to the universe how fucking impossible this all was, and you closed your eyes and You slapped my face, said Bran, with an odd note of shocked reproach, as if it had just happened. Yes," said Holden. "I slapped your face. Because you closed your eyes and your face went slack and you looked dead. Gone. Youd just... left. And that was not bearable. And I slapped you and you opened your eyes and you were still there and even a little angry but I knew that I hadnt He swallowed again. I hadnt failed you altogether, but I hadnt succeeded, either. You were alive, you were you, but if I pushed you away, if I let you go, youd just go under. Im sorry, Bran whispered. No, said Holden fiercely. Dont you dare blame yourself. Youre the bravest kid Ive ever seen. Ill never know the strength it took to keep hold of all your best your sweetness and trust and hope after how hurt youd been, and for how long. The Ravens know I didnt manage it. But you were so tired, sweetheart. And my eyes were maybe the first place youd seen what you really were. Its still hard for me to believe, but it must be true that no one had ever told you how fucking beautiful you were. Bran looked down, tears spilling over. Holden still wasnt looking at him; his gaze was steady on the road ahead.
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You think you love me, he said. You were drowning, and I was there, and you reached out with the last of your strength and got a death grip and hung on for dear life and youre still hanging on. Its sweet that you think its love, Bran, sweet like youre sweet, and young and innocent and idealistic. I dont care what you think, said Bran defiantly, tears still streaking his face. Good, said Holden calmly. You shouldnt. It doesnt matter. Youll realize someday, you know, that you dont need me any more, that you know what a goddamn treasure you are, without me having to tell you. Just time will do it, maybe, or the sheer number of people you hear saying how lucky I am, or I dont know. But something will click, and youll move on. And Ill be glad, because it will mean I did all right by you. But Bran? I honestly dont care how long it takes. Another month, another year, twenty more years for as long as you still need me to hold you and look at you and state the fucking obvious, Im here. Ive got you. And if you even think about closing your eyes and disappearing on me again, Ill smack you crosseyed. Youre not getting lost again. Not someone like you. Not on my watch. Not if it takes the rest of my life. Bran buried his face in his hands and wept. Jesse sat stunned, staring from Bran to the back of Holdens head. Bran cried in long, hard, racking sobs, Holden drove quietly, and Jesse was fairly sure neither man remembered Jesse existed at all. The car stopped. Startled, Jesse realized they were at the house. Holden shut off the engine, got out, came around and opened the door. Come here, he said, and Bran, still sobbing, let his master help him up and out of the car. He would have dropped to his knees on the ground, but
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Holden held him upright, kissed him softly on the forehead and drew his head down on his shoulder. As Jesse emerged from the car, blinking, Holden said his name, and Jesse looked up, startled, into the dark brown eyes. Thank you, said Holden. Jesse stared, speechless. For whatever you said to him earlier, said Holden, as Bran sobbed quietly against him. You didnt make him feel this way. You just brought it to the surface. And thats where it needed to be, for an idiot like me to notice it. So thank you. He turned his attention from Jesse to Bran, stroking the weeping boys hair gently. Jesse stood still for a moment, staring at them, before he slammed the door of the car and made for the house, thank you still echoing in his head.
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CHAPTER 10 Jesse didn't see Bran again for about an hour. At a loose end, he wandered the house, getting odd looks from the other members of the household. They seemed friendly enough, but Jesse wasn't interested in making any more friends, not if all went well-- when he'd be out of here in a matter of weeks-and not if it didn't, when these people really weren't his friends. Finally he went to "his" room and shut the door, lying down on the bed with his eyes open. Irresistibly bits and pieces of the conversation in the car came back to him. You are an extraordinary person. You were gone, and that was not bearable. How fucking beautiful you are. I've got you. He'll say all that, Jesse thought, but he won't say "I love you"? Won't even admit Bran loves him? Doesn't make any fucking sense. Jesse had told Bran he'd thought slaves in love with their owners were mythical, but of course he'd known slaves whose masters and mistresses had 'fallen in love' with them. Easy to fall in love with someone you could control utterly; easy, and very safe. Much easier and much safer than falling in love with someone who controlled you utterly. He thought of Holden saying in that intense voice, "You're the bravest kid I've ever seen" and gave an irritable twitch of the shoulders, an involuntary, directionless shrug. People who think they're in love with you when you're not in love with them are irritating, Jesse thought firmly. Everyone knows that. Unless you're an emotional sadist like Presniakov, of course, and then no slave in his right mind falls in love with you anyway. For anyone halfway decent it's a drag, being loved by someone you don't love back; it's a demand. Even if they're basically nice people and you feel sorry for them, you still wish they'd quit that. Move on, like Larssen said. That's why slaves don't fall in love with their masters unless they're masochists. Slaves can't afford to be irritating. And even if your master decided to keep hold of you for whatever reason, because he's got it in his head that you'll go crazy or something if he doesn't- he wouldn't sound like that about it. He'd try to sound kind, maybe, but he
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wouldn't sound like he was about to break in half from trying so hard to explain how-- You don't sound like that unless you love a person. So Holden loves Bran. Why the fuck won't he say it? Maybe his wife won't let him. Maybe she's jealous. He's got three boys and she's just got the one girl. Maybe she's fed up. Maybe she's just like, Look, you, I don't care what you fuck but no more true love forever, you're cutting into my slice here. Maybe he's afraid she'll do like what's her name did, that lady who owned them both, who made her husband get rid of all his slaves. I wish I'd gotten a look at the marriage contract. Jesse stared at the ceiling. Maybe it's a power trip, like I said to Bran before. As long as Bran thinks his master doesn't love him he stays desperate to please because maybe he can convince him, maybe he can make him love him. But that doesn't make sense; he wants Bran to feel safe, that's obvious, that's what that whole thing in the car was about, you're not getting lost again. He doesn't like Bran to be scared, you can tell that. He doesn't want fear, he doesn't want love. What the hell does he want from the kid? I don't believe that shit about being glad if Bran was ready to leave him for a second. He'd be heartbroken if Bran 'moved on,' he fucking loves him. Why's he pushing him away so hard? Why do I care? Jesse knew the answer: because he was good at this. Quen used to be fairly impressed by Jesse's quick, vicious analyses of Presniakov's social circle. Ugly old bag in pink lace and makeup an inch thick, wants to be a little girl again so she fucks little boys, we're a little too old but she'll make do, bet you she'll want us to call her Yelena in bed, no, Lenochka, Lenchik. Soft, nervous guy, son of a rich merchant who bought his title; beating slaves bloody makes him feel a little less nouveau, but I'm pretty sure he sticks to girls who look like his wife. Super-refined old-family gold-digging bitch
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trying to get her claws into the master; fucking hates that he has boy slaves but she'll follow his lead on how to treat us, at least until after the wedding. Holden and Alix had made perfect sense when they first showed up at Presniakov's. If Jesse had had the mental energy he'd have whispered as much to an imaginary Quen. Rich and successful but still not quite there, trying a little too hard to impress the aristos, the wife more than the husband, he lets her have that boy as an outlet, she wants me but he wears the boots, and so on as the afternoon progressed, their performance flawless, the gathering drunken rage, the direction of Bran's frightened cower. If he hadn't been past caring about anything he probably would have been able to gauge the exact minute at which he needed to duck Holden's fist, and even as he lay on the floor bleeding he wasn't really surprised, not on any deep level. They fit the patterns he understood. The real shock and disorientation had begun in the car, when the patterns started unraveling, when it became obvious that not only did Alix and Holden and Bran not fit the pattern, they had deliberately faked it. An eye as keen as Jesse's for social cliches that no one would question-- Alix's, Holden's, one of the slaves'?-- had planned it out in perfect, finely shaded detail. He imagined them in the car beforehand, and it was Holden's quiet voice he heard: You know the scenario. We're both trying a little too hard to impress, but you care more than I do. Bran, you're afraid of me but you're also afraid to be too obviously clinging to Alix. We'll set it up early on that Alix thinks this Jesse kid is pretty and I don't like that, so later, when I'm drunk-If anything, they'd overestimated Presniakov; for all his refinements of torture, he didn't have the eye for these things that Jesse did. He wouldn't ever have figured Jesse out if Quen, sweet trusting Quen, hadn't come onto the scene, curled up in Jesse's arms, seduced him into betraying weakness. Not that it was Quen's fault. The weakness was Jesse's, and the surrender to it; he loved Quen, would have given up far more than that sense of safety and impenetrability for his sake. Love made you weak, but Jesse, unlike Presniakov, knew it was worth it.
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(Maybe that was Holden's problem. The way he felt about Bran made him weak, and he couldn't handle it. The blood frightened him, and my tears. The fear and the shame made him angry. But that would make Holden close himself off to Bran, or lash out, not pour out his heart but just refuse to say those three fucking words, I love you--) Jesse was used to understanding the people who had power over him and Quen. Now these new people itched at his mind, almost forming recognizable patterns, but not quite, never quite, falling into place. Holden made sense. Mostly. A little under his wife's thumb, grateful to her for freeing him; sentimental over Yves, since Holden was to Yves sort of as what's his name, Pavel, had been to Holden. Sentimental over Jer, since they'd belonged to Argounov together. Liked playing with pretty teenagers, but not much trouble letting them go, since there'd always be more. And then this one kid, sweet and beautiful and shy and adoring, and he'd fallen, hard. Jesse didn't have any trouble understanding why anyone would fall in love with Bran. Holden's explanation of Bran made sense, too. You were drowning, and I was there. It's sweet that you think it's love, sweet like you're sweet, and young and innocent and idealistic. What didn't make sense was why Holden said that, saw that, if he was fucking in love with Bran. Nobody was capable of that much disinterested clarity. If you were madly in love with someone and they insisted over more than a year that they were madly in love with you back, you caved at some point. If you were as emotional as Holden was in the car, choking with tenderness over the shivering kid next to you, every tone in your voice screaming I love you, the words came out, unless there was a damn good reason for them not to. Jesse's inability to figure out any reason good enough was like a ferocious itch suddenly flaring on your leg when your hands were cuffed to the ceiling and your master was concentrating on your back and ass. It really shouldn't matter, but fuck it was irritating.
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Maybe Holden was doing this just to get under Jesse's skin. Jesse smiled briefly, mirthlessly, at the ceiling. He was still trying to figure it out when Bran came in, tear-stained and quietfaced, and sat down on the bed next to him. Jesse sat up quickly. "Hey," he said. "You okay?" "Fine," said Bran. "Sorry about all that. Must have been an interesting show." "Yeah," said Jesse. "Did he punish you already?" "No," said Bran with a wan smile. "He isn't going to. He said he thought I'd had enough of a beating on the way home." "Gods, he's weird," said Jesse. "Can I say he's weird, or does that piss you off?" "No," said Bran. "He's weird." Jesse smiled, then said tentatively, "Do you-- uh, do you think he might be right? About you?" "That I'd lose it if he sold me? Yeah, probably," said Bran. "No, that you only think you're in love with him because--" Bran shrugged. "He's said that before. Maybe. Who knows. What did you think of Kai and Sophie?" "I liked Sophie," said Jesse, with a curious look at Bran. "She seemed to have her head on straight. Kai's fucked up."
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"Aren't we all?" said Bran. "I feel sorry for Kai. He just can't make himself move on. Like me." "Oh, come on, Bran," said Jesse irritably. "He's had twenty years to move on. That's longer than you've been alive." Bran grinned. "Point. He's a sweet guy essentially, though. Really likes me, even though you'd think I'd drive him crazy, as devoted as I am to the guy who ruined his sister's life. My master says he just concentrates all his hate and aggression and bitterness on that one thing, so he's totally serene and friendly otherwise." "He said that?" Jesse asked, amused. "Does he talk like that to you a lot?" Bran smiled. "Sometimes. He likes to figure people out. Well, it's his job. But it's his hobby, too. Thinks he's got me all figured out, for sure. Wish I had him figured out." "Me too," said Jesse fervently, wondering whether Holden thought he had Jesse figured out. I'd like to see him try, he thought derisively, and then wondered if he really would like it, thinking of Bran's racking sobs in the car, Holden's relentless voice, I saw, you looked, I knew then, you were so. What would it be like to have someone turn such an unblinking stare on you, devote such energy to decoding and untangling what went on in your head? Terrifying. Infuriating. Unbearable. "Are you okay?" he asked again, suddenly. Bran looked at him thoughtfully. "I'm fine," he said. "I told you before, I always cry when people are nice to me." "Come here, Bran," Holden ordered that evening after dinner, as he settled down at one end of the couch in the lounge, and Bran, with a quick glance at
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a surprised-looking Inga, obeyed immediately. He started to kneel, but Holden grabbed his arm and pulled him back up, then tugged sharply at the edge of Bran's tunic. "I want this off." Bran lowered his eyes and said something Jesse didn't catch. "Bran," said Holden gently. "Wearing clothes is a privilege. One more hesitation and you lose that privilege until further notice." Paling, Bran yanked his tunic off swiftly and hit the floor before it did, bowing his forehead almost to the carpet in apology as Jesse, seated in an unobtrusive corner with a book he hadn't even glanced at, swallowed hard, disturbed by a faint flicker of excitement at the threat. That's sick. Poor kid. Gods, he looks good like that. "Eyes on me, sweetheart," Holden said softly, and when Bran lifted his head, Holden reached down to draw the boy up onto his lap, speaking to him too softly for Jesse to hear, but apparently in a series of instructions, as Bran adjusted himself in his master's lap, his long legs stretched out along the rest of the couch, his back against Holden's arm. Smiling, Holden began stroking his chest, drawing small circles around his nipples with an index finger. Bran's cock hardened almost instantly, and he closed his eyes, spots of crimson burning on his cheeks. Holden bent down and said something, and Bran moved suddenly to put his arms around his master's neck, turning his body so that it was half hidden against Holden's chest. Holden allowed it, wrapping his own arms around Bran and holding him closer while he continued to speak softly with his lips close to Bran's ear. Bran was trembling. He shook his head emphatically, and Holden smiled. Inga looked around absently for a moment, then caught Greta's eye and moved easily to her side. Greta smiled at her and she sat down, watching Bran and Holden with interest. Jesse was watching, too, and he saw Bran's shivering abate as Holden went on speaking into his ear. When Holden
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stopped speaking, Bran nodded, then made a small convulsive movement as if to bury himself more deeply in Holden's arms. Holden hugged him hard for a moment, then began kissing him softly, first his lips, then cheeks, chin, nose, eyelids, forehead, temples, covering Bran's face with kisses, coaxing out a slow, irresistible smile. Jesse watched the other boy's tensed body growing slowly pliant and languid as Holden kissed his throat, his collarbone, then drew his head down to kiss the nape of his neck. He watched Holden's lips, trying to decipher what he was saying to Bran between kisses-- "Beautiful," he thought he saw shaped, more than once, and "dear," and then, just before pressing his lips to Bran's naked shoulder, an unmistakably emphatic "mine." Bran moved slightly into every kiss, not demanding any more than the touch Holden gave him, but rising to meet it with an electric responsiveness that sent a rush of blood to Jesse's cock. Bran said something inaudible, and Holden grinned, shaking his head, pressing his lips to Bran's forehead. And spoke again, into Bran's hair. Bran nodded again, his face half hidden in his master's neck; Holden nuzzled down the trail of soft hair at his nape, his mouth latched on to the place where neck met shoulder, and then he bit, hard. Bran had been expecting it; his body jerked and shuddered, but he didn't make a sound. Holden gently grasped Bran's shoulder and peeled him off his own chest, supporting his back with the other arm. Bran, trembling again, reluctantly let his arms slide from around his master's neck, and Holden stroked him soothingly, pressing a kiss to his lips, whispering something in his ear. Bran relaxed slightly as Holden kissed his way down his chest, took his nipple in his mouth, and lapped and nibbled at it gently while Bran breathed hard. At last he pulled back, kissed the hard nub of the nipple, laid his lips to a patch of skin an inch or two above it, and suckled for a moment before biting down. Bran shuddered again, his mouth opening in a silent cry, as Holden's lips and tongue slipped gently down his chest, teeth caught his nipple (a shred of sound slipped out then, the barest breathless hint of a moan), and fastened on to another smooth patch of skin.
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Jesse was watching so intently that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Yves spoke in a normal tone of voice. "Can I help with that, master?" he asked lazily. "Be my guest," said Holden, and Bran lay very still against his master's arm, watching as Yves got up, crossed to the couch and knelt at the other end of it from Holden, pushing one of Bran's legs off the couch and sitting where it had been, between the now spread legs. He bent down and pressed his lips to the crease between Bran's pelvis and his leg; Bran's back arched, pressing the skin of his collarbone harder against Holden's mouth as Yves' teeth sank into the tender flesh of his inner thigh. Holden looked up and raised his eyebrows, and Jesse followed his glance to Jer, who was shaking his head, grinning, his hand wrapped around his cock, half covered by his tunic. Jesse would have liked to do the same, but had no intention of giving Holden the satisfaction, should he happen to glance in Jesse's direction. Which he didn't seem particularly likely to do, at the moment. "What are our thoughts on this?" Yves asked Holden quietly, brushing a fingertip lightly along the length of Bran's cock, so hard now that it stood upright and away from his body, the tip glistening. "Besides 'a thing of beauty,' you mean?" Holden asked, his mouth hovering above Bran's other nipple, hard already from the barely-there tickle of his breath. "So you don't want me to...?" "Go ahead," said Holden, and flicked Bran's nipple with his tongue, starting the boy trembling again. "More where that came from."
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Yves grinned and took Bran's cock in his mouth in one quick motion just as Holden's incisors clamped down on his nipple. Bran gave a choking cry and then drew in his breath sharply, biting his lips hard as Yves sucked his cock and Holden, mouth still on his nipple, reached down and wrapped his hand around Bran's balls, kneading gently. Bran's lips formed the word master, a faint hiss escaping on the st. After a moment Yves' hand reached up and tapped at the back of Holden's, in a let me gesture, and Holden took his hand away, letting Yves' replace it, and lifted it to Bran's mouth, pressing his fingers between the boy's parted lips. Bran took them in eagerly, sucking and licking with an almost desperate enthusiasm; Holden leaned back to say something in Bran's ear, and Bran squirmed forward slightly, breaking Yves' rhythm for a moment. Holden pulled his hand away and kissed his lips, deeply, forcing Bran's head back as his hand disappeared from view. Bran's guttural groan was only half stifled by his master's mouth, and he continued to whimper softly as Holden kept kissing him, catching his lower lip between his teeth, then cried out again as he came into Yves' mouth, biting back at Holden's lips, Yves licking him clean with long, leisurely strokes of the tongue. "Holden, love, if you could just keep him a little quieter," said Alix without looking up from her work at the desk. "Sorry," said Holden, pulling back from Bran's lips. "He's supposed to be keeping silent." Bran bit his own lip as Holden added with a teasing smile into his slave's flushed face, "He seems to be having some trouble following instructions today." "Then either gag him or take him upstairs, there's a dear," said Alix, turning over a fresh sheet of paper. "I just wrote 'in my orgasm' instead of 'in my opinion.'" Holden laughed out loud.
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"What do you say, Bran?" he asked, brushing the boy's hair back carefully from his damp forehead. "Am I going to have to gag you?" Bran swallowed. "Unless-- it might please you to take me where you could hear me cry out for you, master." "Ah, you're good, sweetheart," said Holden cheerfully. "Hear that, Inga? What did he do there?" "Said what he wanted as if he was thinking of ways to please you, master," said Inga promptly. "Good girl. And good boy. Let's get you upstairs. Coming, Yves? Jer?" "Absolutely," Jer grinned, getting to his feet along with Yves as Holden half dragged Bran up from the couch. **** "Bran has all the fun," Inga grumbled when the men had gone, except for Jesse, who sat blinking in his corner. "I'm not sure that was entirely intended as fun, Inga," said Greta gently. Inga nestled against Greta, who put an arm around her. "Sure looked like fun to me. So, what, was it supposed to be a punishment or something?" "Punishment is misery as a deterrent to misbehavior," said Alix, still without looking up. "Bran can work up all the punishment he needs from inside his own head. Right now he just needs a little recalibration. Please be quiet, girls. I've got to get this done tonight."
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CHAPTER 11 The next morning when Bran woke Jesse up, he was naked, displaying a body spattered with bruises and bite marks. "Uh-oh," said Jesse with groggy alarm. Bran grinned. "Don't worry, I'm still allowed to wear clothes. I'm just showing off." "You're hilarious," said Jesse, sitting up and examining Bran more attentively. "Did you get much sleep?" He put a hand on Bran's hip to turn him gently around. "Some," said Bran. His back had more bite marks and several red, angrylooking scratches; there were a few mottled bruises on his ass and thighs. "Doesn't that hurt?" Jesse asked, somewhat befuddled by Bran's obvious pleasure. "In a good way," said Bran. "Like when you pull my hair." Jesse tried not to show his surprise and pleasure at the comment. "Does he pull your hair?" "No. He plays with it. Jer pulls it, sometimes." "You don't mind being everyone else's fuck toy?" Jesse asked curiously. "Even though you're in love with him?" "Early in the morning to be trying to make me cry again," said Bran, with a small grin over his shoulder at Jesse. "No, I guess he's right. You aren't trying to be hurtful, you're just naturally curious and not naturally overendowed with tact."
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Jesse flushed. Bran wasn't the mimic Holden was, but hearing himself analyzed in such terms and in Holden's speech patterns was unpleasant. He bit back the truculent answer he would have liked to give Holden, focusing on Bran and on his first sentence. "I'm sorry." "It's fine. The others have fucking rights to me, but that was my choice when he first agreed to-- when I first-- you know. Figured it would make Yves and Jer a lot easier to deal with. Anyone else I sleep with is my choice, too. You heard him ask me about Lisa Kareyeva yesterday. He'd have let me say no." Bran paused for a moment, then added, "I guess I'd like it if he cared enough to get jealous over me, but I don't really want to spend all the nights he isn't with me alone." "Tell me about the Kareyeva girl," said Jesse quickly, wanting to change the subject from his inconsiderate question and the ever-irritating topic of Holden's love, or lack thereof, for Bran. "They're coming over tonight, is that right?" "Yeah. She's a really nice girl," said Bran, and Jesse was relieved at his warm, sincere smile. "Very gentle. Very shy-- with me, anyway; she seems to be able to hold her own with Miss Valor. But we've been sleeping together off and on for almost a year now, and she still doesn't quite have the hang of the whole 'sex slave' concept. It's all 'Do you think you could' this and 'Would you mind if I' that." "Some of them get off on that," said Jesse wisely. "Does she like you to play rough?" "No, no. I mean, I've never tried. I don't think she'd like that. She once saw the mistress slap a trainee's face and almost got hysterical. I'll have to prepare her tonight so she doesn't faint dead away at the sight of this." Bran slid a hand almost caressingly over his own marked chest. "What about the daughter?" Jesse asked.
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"Miss Valor? She-- has a strong personality. She's nice, though. She's settled down a bit since I first met her. I think Lady Lisa has a calming influence now that they're living together. Are you coming down to breakfast?" "Aren't you getting dressed?" Jesse asked. "I guess I should. Fox will be there. Not that she doesn't already know I'm a complete slut, but no need to rub it in." Bran hurried out the door and Jesse began to dress himself absently; he was still smoothing down his tunic when Bran came back in, dressed. **** When they came into the dining room, everyone else was already seated around the table, food served. Holden reached out as Bran tried to walk past him and caught his arm, pulling him down into his lap. Bran looked up at him, surprised, and Holden pulled him close with one arm and reached for his plate with the other, lifting a piece of fruit to Bran's lips. Bran opened his mouth obediently and took it in, lapping juice carefully from his master's fingertips, then leaned his head back with a small sigh onto Holden's shoulder. "I don't want to hear it," Holden said to Jer, reaching for another piece of fruit. "I didn't say anything, master," said Jer, with a small smile. "Actually you two look very picturesque. Skirnir bargaining with Freyr." "I always fancied myself more as Loki," said Holden, amused, as he fed Bran another morsel. "You're not religious, Jer." "No, but my mom had a religious picture like that when I was a kid. You know, just printed cardboard, but I liked it. I thought when I was little that it was a dad holding his son on his lap."
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"I think we had that picture too," said Alix, interested. "My parents, I mean. It must have been a popular one at the time." "There was a whole series," said Jer. "Freyja with Brisingamen, the death of Baldur, Loki venom-eyed, all the old chestnuts. I just... liked that one. I liked the look on Freyr's face." "I don't really remember it very well," said Alix. "I know Skirnir looked quite young." "Yeah," said Jer, smiling again. "And he was all draped over Freyr, with this sort of 'c'mon, pleeeeease' look on his face, and Freyr had this little smile, like he saw right through him. But not angry at all, just, well, gentle." He paused for a moment as if examining the memory, then shrugged. "You know how you make things up in your head, when you're a kid looking at a picture. When I finally heard the actual story it sort of pissed me off." "I always suspected Bran planned to sabotage me at Ragnarok," said Holden lightly, as Jesse examined Jer with interest; this was the most he'd said in Jesse's presence since the night of Jesse's arrival. "I don't think it was deliberate sabotage in the story, was it, master?" Greta asked idly. "He just wanted the sword for himself." "I thought he needed it to fight his way to Gerd," said Yves, diverted. Jesse had already eaten all he planned to; he hadn't been particularly hungry since he came here, at least not for the textureless things that were all he was served for the good of his teeth. Nor was he interested in the theological chatter the five adults were carrying on with. Instead he watched intently as Holden fed Bran from his plate with his fingers. He had seen this game played before and knew that, like all games masters played with slaves, it was generally designed for the master to enjoy and the slave to handle either well or badly. The master got the pleasure of his slave's mouth, his hungersharpened focus, the catch of his breath as he waited between bites for his
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master's whim; the slave, if he was lucky and good at the game, got a halffull belly before his master got bored. Bran was good, there was no doubt of that-- the way he opened his mouth, just wide enough that his master's fingers brushed against his lips, but not his teeth; the way he took in the food eagerly but not voraciously, gratefully but never impatiently, the gratitude implicitly for the master's kindness and not for the food itself; the slow sensual licking and sucking of his master's fingers as they withdrew from his mouth: all were part of the game, all would keep a master enjoying himself for as long as possible, maximizing how much you actually got to eat. Holden cut a bite-sized piece from his omelette with a fork, then used the fork to delicately dissect the piece before lifting it to Bran's lips. He repeated the operation twice before Jesse realized he was removing the mushrooms from the omelette's filling before feeding it to Bran, and that Bran was looking at Holden with wide, startled eyes. "You don't like mushrooms," Holden said softly to him, touching another bite to Bran's lips; Bran opened his mouth automatically, still staring at his master. Jesse blinked at both of them, somehow less able to absorb this tiny, mundane gesture than the myriad other shocks his expectations had received over the past three days. It was certainly conceivable-- he thought-- that a well-nourished slave who routinely ate at the same table with his owners would grow confident enough about food to develop preferences, likes and dislikes. But Jesse couldn't imagine Bran picking over anything he was served. Holden was a trainer who wouldn't encourage young slaves in a dangerous habit like fussy eating, and in any case Bran would surely be horrified at the idea of such ingratitude as a refusal to eat anything his master was pleased to give him. He might privately dislike mushrooms, but Jesse would have bet his own life Bran would eat them cheerfully. Yet somehow Holden had observed the preference, and was taking the trouble to indulge it as he fed Bran.
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Jesse would have felt sillier for being so profoundly affected by the odd little gesture if Bran's own eyes, now back on Holden's hand, hadn't looked slightly glassy. Holden was feeding him pieces of apple and melon, interspersed with bites of omelette. Left behind in the bowl, like the small piles of mushrooms on the plate, was an increasing proportion of grapes. When Holden's place was nearly clean-- only grapes left in the bowl, only mushrooms on the plate-- Holden began feeding Bran the grapes, one by one. Bran accepted them with his lips, crushing them in his mouth, licking the sweet juice from his teeth, and bathing his master's fingertips with kisses. "An antler," said Holden to Yves, who had just asked something of the table in general. He offered Bran the last grape and added, "It doesn't matter, anyway. Ragnarok's rigged. Everyone loses. Freyr's just the first to go down. He might have lasted longer with the sword, but..." He shrugged, oneshouldered, while Bran sucked his fingers clean. "I guess he thought it was worth it." "Yeah, well, love will do that to you," said Jer, without looking at either Holden or Bran. The telephone rang, making Jesse's heart leap into his throat. Alix jumped up and hurried into the hall to answer it. After a moment she came back in and said to Holden in a resigned tone, "Irina." Bran got up quickly, as Jesse slowly swallowed his heart again. No news is good news, he reminded himself. Holden rose, looking slightly annoyed but not surprised, and grabbed Bran by the hand, leading the boy after him out into the hall.
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Jesse looked after them for a moment, dazed, then was halfway up from his seat before he remembered to mutter, "May I please be excused, mistress?" Alix nodded, and Jesse jumped up to follow Bran and Holden, somehow unable to resist any chance to watch them together. "Of course," Holden was saying into the phone, still holding Bran's hand. He nodded briefly to Jesse, and Bran shrugged to Jesse's questioning look. "No, not at all. Actually, Bran is right here-- would it help if I put him on?" Bran blinked at his master, who grimaced at him. "Fine," he said. "Here he is." He handed the phone to Bran, who took it nervously and held it up to his ear as if it might bite. After listening for a moment, though, his eyebrows shot up and he looked at Holden, who shrugged elaborately, as if to say What can you do?. "As it please my lady," Bran said politely, and then after a brief pause, in a completely different voice, "Okay, she's kidding, right? "Worried about what? Yes, gods forbid I actually get punished for public disobedience. You've got to be-"No, yeah, absolutely. That's completely reasonable. He was actually in the middle of skinning me alive, but maybe if you irritate him enough with pointless telephone calls he'll go-"Sure he did. In the car on the way home he raised his voice to me for two whole sentences." Holden, obviously trying not to laugh, held up three fingers in front of Bran's face. "Three whole sentences. He's been nursing me back to consciousness ever since. "Kai! I cannot fucking believe she let you waste his time with this. I thought I was spoiled rotten. Give her back the phone.
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"My lady? Thank you for permitting me to speak to you. I beg you to accept my humble apology for my misbehavior in your presence yesterday." Chuckling softly, Holden took the phone back from Bran. "Hi, Irina," he said. "No, I didn't. Yeah, he is." He laughed. "True. No. Of course. Imagine that. Okay, Irina, it's no problem. Glad we could help. All right. Goodbye." He hung up. "What was that about?" Bran demanded. "Master? You don't seem surprised." "I'm not," said Holden. "He's been completely fucking paranoid about anyone under my power since... well, ever, but the phone calls to check up started after Greta got pregnant. Irina's always indulged him. You've just never seen it because you've never acted up in front of him before." "For fuck's sake," Bran muttered. "You'd think after twenty years of no one ever showing up mangled or traumatized-- except for the pregnancy, and that wasn't exactly-- what are you grinning about, master?" "You," said Holden, putting his arm around Bran. "You're adorable when you're indignant on my behalf." Bran blushed, then laughed. "Well, if he's been doing that all this time I doubt I'm the first to tell him he's an idiot." "Actually, I think you are," said Holden, and kissed Bran's cheek. "I'm not sure anyone else has ever felt the need to defend me with quite that degree of incredulous sarcasm. I wonder if he'll call again."
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Bran laughed again and leaned his head against his master's shoulder. "Not worrying about me, master, because I'm not ever acting up at Lady Galenova's again-- but if he does, give me the phone anyway." "I think I will." Holden hugged Bran to him. "Ah, Bran--" "I love you." Jesse could almost hear the words, but Holden just hugged Bran and kissed his hair, and Jesse thought, I've got to figure this out or I will fucking go crazy before I even know if Quen is still-The phone rang again. Holden reached out and picked it up without letting go of Bran. "Larssen," he said. As he listened, a satisfied smile curled his lips. "Of course." He looked up at Jesse and silently offered the phone. Jesse leaped for it, snatching it so eagerly that he nearly dropped it, and pressed it to his ear, barely breathing. "This is J-- jesse," he stuttered. "Baby?" said Quen. "Now do you trust them?"
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CHAPTER 12 Jesse's conversation with Quen was over almost before it began-- a few gasped "I love you"s and "I'm fine, everything's great here"s on both sides, "I miss you so much" from Jesse and "I miss you too beautiful, have you slept with Bran yet?" from Quen. Jesse laughed. "Yes. Did you? I didn't get a chance to ask." "A couple of times. I don't think either of us really likes topping though. I thought you'd like him." "Tell me about the trip, Quen. Where are you?" "I'm here. I mean, we crossed the border. It's a big city, bigger than Tenarus, and it's weird, there are beggars everywhere on the streets, Faye says it's because they don't have slavery here, isn't that funny? But I don't have time to-- Are they treating you okay?" "Sure, fine. Who's Faye? Where are you? I mean, where are you calling from?" "Some friends of Karl's and Tara's. They're letting me stay with them for now. There's a whole organization-- But I can't run up their phone bill, international rates... I've got to go. I'll see you soon, sweetheart." "Okay," said Jesse, "but you're okay, right?" "I'm great. I'll be better when you're here. I've got to--" "I know, I know. Call again when you can, okay, I love you so fucking much, baby--" "I love you, I love you, I love you, goodbye," and a click.
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It wasn't until then that Jesse realized Holden and Bran had both withdrawn, perhaps to give him some privacy. He ran upstairs to his room, slammed the door shut, lay down on his back on the bed and smiled brilliantly at the ceiling. "Everything," he told it softly, "is now officially okay." **** He reiterated the sentiment to Bran as they sat on the steps outside the front door that evening, waiting for Valor and Lisa Kareyeva to arrive, and garnering a few interested looks from passersby who clearly knew the house by sight. "Is it?" Bran asked, amused. "But what about you? You're not out yet." "Doesn't matter," said Jesse. "He's safe. I'll be fine. I'm a survivor. He's not." Bran started to answer, but stopped as a cab pulled up to the curb in front of the house and a tall, dark girl emerged laughing, turning to say something to a somewhat shorter, chestnut-haired girl, who was smiling as she followed the first girl from the car. "Hi, Bran," said the dark girl, coming up to the outer steps as her friend paid the cab. "Don't get up, I'm sitting down. Hi, new kid." "This is Jesse, Miss Valor," said Bran, making room for Valor on the step between himself and Jesse. "Hello, Lady Kareyeva." The other girl had already come forward and sat down on the other side of Bran; to Jesse's slight surprise, she leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips. Jesse realized he hadn't seen anyone but Holden kiss Bran on the mouth since he had arrived. That in itself wasn't strange, but the difference between the passion with which Bran responded to Holden's kisses and the quiet though full compliance he was giving Kareyeva was astounding. There was
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nothing reluctant about his mouth on the girl's, but nothing remarkable, either; Jesse could have kissed her with equal competence, now that his mouth was healing. Even when, after she broke the kiss, Bran reached out to smooth back the girl's fine, flyaway hair with an affectionate look, and the two smiled into each other's eyes like a pair of young lovers on a park bench, Jesse couldn't help but think of the contrast between this quiet pleasure and the fierce, hungry joy that seemed to radiate from Bran when Holden's lips were on his. "Get a room, lovebirds," said Valor amiably, opening an enormous black patent leather purse and reaching inside without looking. Kareyeva giggled, putting a hand on Bran's back. "Shut up, Val. Just because you've sworn off men--" "I have not sworn off men," said Valor, looking Jesse up and down with frank interest as she produced a mirrored powder compact from her bag. Jesse, remembering Holden saying My daughter's about as sensitive as a cast-iron frying pan, looked back rather nervously. "When's the last time you brought one home?" said Kareyeva. "You're fidgeting, Val. Want a cigarette before we go in?" "Can't smoke around the boys, sweetie," Valor said, inspecting herself critically in the mirror. "They're expensive. Anyway, I don't need one. I'm fine." She snapped her bag shut before looking back up at Jesse. "Jesse, right? So who are you in love with?" Jesse hesitated, unsure what she meant, but sure that 'My supposedly dead runaway ex-fellow slave Quen' was the wrong answer. "Who in this house have you picked out to follow around like a little puppy dog?" Valor clarified. "Oh," said Jesse. "Um-- Bran, I guess. Miss."
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"Oh, good choice," said Valor, unexpected dimples popping out as she smiled at Jesse. Jesse grinned back despite himself. "Yes, Miss Valor." "Hey, what's that on your teeth? Let me see." Jesse displayed his brace. "What happened to you?" "My master punched me in the mouth," said Jesse truthfully, if ambiguously. "Ouch. Guess that's why you're here, huh?" "Yes, Miss Valor." "I'm sorry. Hi, Mom!" "Hello, darling," said Greta, stepping out onto the stoop, as Valor jumped up and flung her arms around her mother, kissing her affectionately and narrowly missing stepping on Jesse's fingers. "Why don't you come in?" "I was just powdering my nose," said Valor, "and meeting Jesse. He's cute." "You're easily distracted, darling," said Greta, smiling. "Come in. We're all in the lounge."
When they had all trailed inside, and proper greetings with Lady Kareyeva had been exchanged, Holden put an arm around his daughter and kissed her on the cheek. "Hello, trouble." "Hi, Dad," she said, smiling. "Hi, Alix." Alix kissed her on her other cheek as Inga hung back with the closest thing to shyness that Jesse had seen from her yet. Valor looked up at her, blushing an oddly becoming pink. "Hi, Inga."
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"Miss Valor," said Inga softly, smiling at the taller girl. "Let's get this done, love," said Alix briskly. "Do you have the paperwork from the university?" "Every last ream," said Valor, snapping her bag open again and producing a sheaf of folded papers, which she handed to Alix. "That was an interesting application process. You could see the wheels in their heads spinning. No title, made-up last name, parents not married, mother a slave--" "Now do you see why we didn't want to do this while you were still legally a minor?" said Alix, paging through the stack. "I thought it was because I was a complete self-absorbed brat," said Valor cheerfully. "That too," said Holden. "Even now-- well, let's just say I wouldn't give you Bran." "You wouldn't give anyone Bran unless it was at knifepoint, Dad," said Valor, grinning. "Is everything in order, Alix?" "Looks to be," said Alix. "Come here and sign this, love." Valor obeyed; Jesse thought her hand was shaking a little. "There. You are now officially a slave owner." "Don't do anything we wouldn't do," said Holden, as Valor turned, her eyes shining-- to Jesse's surprise-- with tears, and reached a hand to Inga, who came close to her, smiling. Valor blinked furiously as Inga knelt and bowed her head to the other girl's feet, pressing her lips to Valor's shoe. "Mistress," she said, without looking up.
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"Wow," said Valor, trying to laugh. "That sounds better than I expected. Get up, dear, and give me a kiss." Inga rose obediently and the two girls shared a sweet, almost ceremonious kiss before Valor pulled away, adding with a valiant attempt at briskness, "I brought you some new clothes. Green does nothing for your complexion, Inga." She fished in her bag and shook out a rolled-up black garment of a fine, light cotton. Inga smiled at the sight of it. "Thank you, mistress," she said. "May I put it on now?" "Do," said Valor. "I want to see how it looks." Inga pulled off her green tunic-- making Lisa blush slightly and turn her face away from the slave girl's naked body-- folded it neatly and let Alix take it from her before accepting the black garment from Valor and slipping it over her head. Her golden skin and hair seemed to glow against the black, and the material flowed over her curves, accentuating them, but subtly. She looked stunning. "Perfect," said Valor. "Oh, God. I'm going to cry. Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Alix." "Don't thank me," Greta said, smiling at her daughter. "I didn't give you anything." "Of course you did," said Valor, and smiled crookedly at her mother. "You decided I was ready, or they wouldn't have-- and I am, I swear, I'm going to- do this right." "Luckily," said Holden, "you picked a girl who will bite you if you don't."
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Valor cackled as Inga blushed, then leaned forward and kissed the slave girl on both cheeks. "She wouldn't bite me. Would you, Inga?" "Not unless you wish it, mistress," said Inga softly, smiling. Valor laughed again. "I might just... God, you're beautiful. Let's go eat before I make any more of a fool of myself." Valor was extremely talkative over dinner. "I'm already infamous on campus," she announced proudly. "You two are notorious, you know, everyone knows the slave breakers' daughter got the Blackburn fellowship, and just as icing on the cake there's the fact that I'm obsessed with all this slavery legislation. You would not believe some of the titled kids who act like I'm a runaway slave myself-- and then there are all the bleeding hearts who've never met a slave in their lives and want to talk about how all pleasure slaves should be automatically euthanized at age thirty as an act of kindness." "Loki," said Holden, as Jesse glanced, startled, around the table at all the slaves over thirty. None of them looked surprised, though Jer's eyes were lowered and he looked tired. "Must startle them when you tell them they're advocating killing your mother." "I know, right? And some of them want to free all slaves at a given age-which isn't a bad idea in theory, but you'd have to go further with it, I mean economically, how is the workforce going to support a glut of thirty-fiveyear-olds with no trade training and with the stigma of being an ex-pleasure slave? Which isn't always just a stigma, I mean, no offense to you guys, but being a slave fits you for a very specific lifestyle, doesn't it, and not everybody's an entrepreneur waiting to bud." "I'm a lazy slut, myself," said Holden. "But I think that was a pre-existing condition."
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"How about legislation requiring owners to teach slaves a useful trade?" Greta suggested, as Jer sent a quick grin at Holden. Valor pointed at her. "Exactly! That's what I'm talking about when I say you've got to take it further. Something should be done, though. The current legislation is a mess, nobody knows what the hell is going on, or what to protest exactly, because you've got the ones who land on their feet, like everybody here, and Uncle Kai and Sophie, and then you've got the ones whose owners sort of find something for them to do around the house and yard when they get too old for the bed and then put them to sleep nicely when they're too old for manual labor, and then you've got the ones who are dead anyway by twenty from suicide or exhaustion because their owners are evil bastards like Dunaev--" "Or Presniakov," Alix agreed, nodding at Jesse, as Holden reached out and put a hand on Bran's back. Bran smiled at him. Valor blinked at Alix for a moment, then resumed, "Anyway, what's really needed is more legislation on how to treat slaves before you're sick of them, maybe a background check before you're allowed to buy one, just basic stuff, like if you've killed one kid already maybe you don't get to buy another one." "I like that idea," said Alix. "But would it work? I mean, could it be enforced?" "Not totally," said Valor. "You'd always have the black market. But it would be a step in the right direction, and it would raise awareness." She looked at Yves as if for approval; he smiled at her. Holden caught the look and raised an eyebrow. "Yves, have you been educating my daughter behind my back?" Yves smirked at his master. "I do what I can. In those precious three minutes after the nineteenth orgasm when she's too exhausted to talk."
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"Hey!" said Valor, as Lisa, who had been very quiet through all the meal so far, giggled nervously. "It's a good thing you're doing, love," said Alix gently to Valor. "Especially considering the way you'll be... seen. By others." Valor laughed suddenly. "Mom, tell the story about when I was six and the lady asked me who my parents were." "We've all heard that story, lamb," said Greta, smiling. "Inga hasn't. And Jesse." "I'd taken you out shopping," said Greta indulgently, "and she must have assumed I was your nurse, so she ignored me and asked you who your parents were. You didn't answer, so she said, 'What grown-ups do you live with, dear?' and you said--" "'My mama and my daddy and my mama's mistress and my daddy's slave,'" Valor recited with satisfaction. "That shut her up. Priss-faced bitch." "Language, Val," said Greta, but she was laughing. Valor smiled back. "Of course, when I was thirteen I found out it should have been 'my mama and my mama's mistress and my mama's mistress's husband and my mama's mistress' husband's slave.' But I'm still going to try to do you all proud." "You already do, Miss Valor," said Yves, smiling fondly at her. "Gods, it's hard to believe you're the age now that I was when you were born. That was a strange night. The master was a complete nervous wreck, and Greta--" "I was very, very calm," said Greta. "After the most weepy, angsty, violent pregnancy ever."
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"Tell me about it," said Holden, laughing. "No, please don't," Valor said, raising an eyebrow in a gesture weirdly reminiscent of her adoptive father. "Oh, so oft-repeated anecdotes are fine when they're about your lisping precocity" "but not when they're about my pregnant mom getting pissed off and kicking my dad in the balls, right," said Valor. "I'm weird, I know." "If we've all finished eating, I think we should let the young people have some time to themselves," said Alix, as Jesse stared from Holden to Greta and back again. "Valor, love, why don't you take Lisa and Inga to the lounge. And Jesse and Bran may go with you." "Do we still need a chaperone?" Valor grinned good-naturedly. "All right, you're right, I need to catch my breath, and you're all driving me crazy beaming at me. Come on, kids. Let's go." **** In the lounge, Lisa Kareyeva's flirtation with Bran and Valor's running commentary quickly escalated to the point where Lisa took Bran by the hand and led him from the room, presumably towards some bed or other. "Now that they're gone," said Valor, turning back to Inga, "tell me, most beautiful girl in the entire world--" Inga grinned. "Mistress?" "God, that sounds good. Say it again, sweet." "Yes, mistress," Inga purred.
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"Give me a kiss. My God. I've completely forgotten what I was going to say." "Something about Bran or Lady Kareyeva, mistress?" "Bran. Right. Oh, yes. Is it just me, or did something happen between Bran and my dad? My dad's got this whole 'hey you, what are you doing way over there' thing going on with the eyes." "Something happened yesterday, mistress," said Inga, "but I'm not sure what. They went over to Lady Galenova's and Bran came back sobbing all over the master-- I mean, your father. Jesse was there." "Ooh," said Valor, intrigued. "So spill, Jesse. What happened? Did my dad finally admit he's head over heels for his little orphan boy?" Jesse was surprised into laughing out loud. "No, Miss Valor," he said. Valor dimpled at him again. "Ah, too bad. I think maybe he thinks Bran will feel safer if he thinks my dad just-- takes care of him. Because people fall out of love, but they don't fall out of feeling responsible for people. Except they do, don't they? Maybe I should marry Bran, to keep him in the family. What do you think?" Jesse shook his head, grinning. "Bran would be scared of you, Miss Valor." Valor grinned back. "How do you know that's not what I want in a husband?" "I think you want someone who can stand up to you, Miss Valor," said Jesse thoughtfully. "Maybe even someone who'll bite you a little bit."
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"Heh," said Valor appreciatively, as Inga giggled. "Stick around, Jesse. Maybe I'll marry you." He was saved from having to answer by Bran's return, alone and looking a little flustered. "Where's Lisa?" Valor demanded. Bran blushed. "With Yves, Miss. The master said he didn't want to deal with the screaming if she saw what my body looks like right now." "Uh-oh," said Valor. "What does your body look like right now?" Bran glanced sideways at Jesse with a small, secret smile. "Never mind," said Valor, grinning. "I saw that look. You're such a slut, Bran. I don't know how Dad ever has time to do anything else. Or anyone." "I try not to be trouble, Miss Valor," said Bran, sitting back down next to Jesse and taking his hand in an easy, unselfconscious gesture. Pleased, Jesse squeezed the other boy's hand. "Heard you'd been making trouble at Galenova's," said Valor casually, and Bran flushed and looked accusingly at Jesse, who jerked his head emphatically at Inga. Inga smiled serenely at Bran. "Is that right, Dad?" Bran and Jesse looked up, startled, to see Holden pausing in the doorway, hand in hand with Jer. "No, that wasn't trouble," he said, coming halfway in the door, as Jer sent a thoughtful glance at Bran. "Attempted trouble, maybe. Bran is not very good at being bad." His tone was teasing, and Bran smiled a little, looking embarrassed.
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"Well, that's lucky," said Valor, "because you're not very good at punishing him." "I can see how you feel qualified to comment on my disciplinary practices," said Holden, "out of the wealth of experience that is your ninety-three minutes so far of slave ownership." "I'm just saying," said Valor with an unruffled grin at her father. "If this is how he looks the day after attempted trouble, I'd like to see him on the day he actually pleases you." "He always pleases me," said Holden calmly, before moving on past the door, Jer in tow, leaving behind a furiously blushing Bran. "You don't say," said Valor, shaking her head and looking at Jesse, who had to bite his cheeks to keep from laughing.
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CHAPTER 13 "Beautiful," said the dentist happily, tapping Jesse's forehead with satisfaction. "If I say it myself. The brace should stay on for another week, and I wouldn't let him eat anything particularly challenging until then, but there's no doubt both teeth will live. You shouldn't have any trouble selling him, Ms. Jamesen. Not on that account, anyway." He smiled, pleased with himself. "Wonderful," said Alix. "I can't thank you enough." "My pleasure. Entirely my pleasure. I'd hate to have well. There's a good boy, then." Jesse managed to resist biting the man's fingers off when he stuck them in his mouth again, although the patronizing tone grated. He'd been a very good boy all week, mindful of Yves' watchful though not unfriendly eye, enjoying Bran, thinking of Quen. Trying to avoid Holden.
"Well, that answers that," said Holden when the dentist was gone. "I'm afraid you're stuck with us for another week or so, kid, but at least you've still got your teeth." "I'll write Tatiana today and see if we can get things in motion sooner than later," said Alix. "I know you're anxious to be with Quen again." Jesse nodded. "Thanks. I-- thanks." "You're welcome," said Alix briskly. "Hop up. Go find Bran. Holden, I need to talk to you." ****
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It was the small hours of the next morning, and Bran couldn't sleep. Jesse was rather too acutely aware of this. They'd had sex, kissing carefully, talked for a while about Valor and her plans for social reform, and Jesse had made the mistake of saying something about how it must be nice to have an owner who was in love with you. Now Bran wasn't exactly tossing and turning; he would lie very still for a few minutes, and then, carefully and quietly, turn over, readjust his position, then repeat the whole process. Jesse suspected the attempts to be still and quiet were for his benefit, that Bran didn't want to bother him with the real extent of his restlessness, and that only made Jesse more tense. "Can't sleep?" he whispered finally. Bran sighed. "I'm sorry. I'd better go back to my own bed." "You aren't bothering me," Jesse lied. "I think I might sleep better in my own bed, anyway." Bran rolled over and kissed Jesse quickly on the lips. "See you in the morning, Jess." Jesse lay still for some time after he had gone, seething with rage at Holden. Fucking lying-ass power-tripping stupid blind game-playing... The fact that some of his adjectives were contradictory, that he still hadn't managed to figure out what the hell Holden's problem was, only made him angrier. He tried to lie still himself, then sat up abruptly and climbed out of bed, hurrying downstairs with no particular aim in mind except motion. He was surprised to see a light burning in the lounge. Putting his head in curiously, he saw Holden at the desk, writing. The older man looked up as Jesse hesitated in the doorway. "Hey, kid," he said. "What are you doing up? Come on in."
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"What are you doing up?" Jesse asked, coming in and closing the door behind him automatically. "Thought I'd knock out some paperwork. Sit down. Couldn't sleep either? Where's Bran?" "Dunno," said Jesse, sitting down. "Where's everyone you sleep with?" "You know," said Holden, "it's interesting. You're not a bit shy around me, and you manage to say enough to Bran to upset him practically every time you're alone with him. But whenever you're around the two of us at the same time, you shut up like a clam." "Uh-huh," said Jesse with elaborate non-interest. "Is that a question?" "Just an observation," said Holden mildly. "I'm not training you. Wish I were." "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" said Jesse, abandoning his bored tone for one that was outright nasty. Holden's eyes narrowed, but he only said, "There's no need to be like that, Jesse." "Sorry, master," said Jesse even more nastily. "Didn't mean to displease you. Why don't you whip me into shape?" "There's no need to talk like that, either," Holden said, his voice controlled. "I haven't lifted my hand to you." Jesse glared, knowing he was pushing too hard, but unable to let the obvious lie pass. "You punched me in the mouth the first time you saw me!"
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"I knew you held a grudge for that." Holden sighed. "Look, Jesse, I'm sorry, I said I was sorry. But it was the only thing we could think of. Would you rather we'd just left you to rot at Presniakov's?" "Not that your interference isn't greatly appreciated," said Jesse between clenched teeth, "but I was actually fine at Presniakov's." "Sure you were, kid," said Holden. "With Quen gone everything was easy again, am I right? Such peace. Such safety. Nothing and nobody could ever hurt you or scare you again. Because the worst had happened, and it was all over, and nothing mattered any more." "Don't talk to me like that," Jesse flared. "Don't you dare talk to me like I'm, like you think I'm Bran. I wasn't-- I didn't-- give up. I was fine. I just--" "Believe me," said Holden, "I am under no illusion that you are Bran. You had about, oh, another week before the numbness wore off. And once it did, you were going to start screaming, and you weren't going to stop for awhile. And with a master like Presniakov no, you wouldn't have lost yourself, kid; you wouldn't have been that lucky. He's a ghoul, he feeds on agony, and you'd have given him a feast for a lifetime." "And what do you feed on, master?" Jesse asked, with the same sarcastic emphasis on the honorific that had always driven Presniakov to fury. "What do you want from me?" "To be absolutely frank," said Holden more coolly, after a moment's pause, "I don't want you at all. It's been a while since I had to spend this much time around a teenager with an attitude the size of yours, and resisting the urge to adjust it for you has been more of a strain than I expected." "Then get me out!" said Jesse furiously. "Do whatever you're going to do and get me back to Quen!" "I am trying my best to do so," said Holden evenly.
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"Then try harder!" "You know, Jesse," said Holden, spinning in his chair to face Jesse and leaning forward, "I realize you've been through a lot, and I've been trying to make allowances, but I'll tell you right now, you are dancing pretty close to my last fucking nerve." "Then hurt me," said Jesse coldly. "Knock me down. Again. Clip my wrists to the ceiling and whip me till I'm hanging from them. Make me scream and beg. Get my blood all over your nice clean training room floor. You think I'm afraid of you? You can't do worse to me than Presniakov did. What are you going to do? Kill me? Kill my" He broke off, his teeth together, his lips pulled a little back, staring at Holden's face, where anger had given way to a sudden, disquieting alertness. "Your what?" Holden asked softly. Jesse swallowed. "You are afraid," said Holden. "Now you are. And it's not for Quen, because Quen's not here. It's for Bran, isn't it? You're afraid I'll hurt Bran just to get to you." Jesse narrowed his own eyes, feeling sick. "Why do you think that would get to me?" "Why do you think I give a shit whether it would get to you or not, you solipsistic little prick?" Holden snapped. "You really think you're so important to me that I'd hurt someone I love just to get to you?" "I knew it!" Jesse screamed, pointing triumphantly at Holden. "Keep your voice down! And put that finger away before I fucking break it. You knew what?"
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"Someone you love," said Jesse more quietly but no less vindictively, lowering his hand to his lap. "You said it. You love him. And you lie to him. You feed him all that crap about what an amazing person he is and how you'll be glad when he's ready to move on. Fucking liar." He spat the last words out, daring Holden to hit him. Instead Holden examined him for a long time, with the same unnerving care as before. "What if I told you I love him like a son?" he said finally. "I'd say bullshit," said Jesse brutally, unnerved by Holden's stare. "Fathers don't fuck their sons." "Do you think I shouldn't fuck Bran?" Holden asked, and Jesse realized it was a real question. He swallowed, remembering Bran's cold look as he said, if you say one single fucking word to him about taking advantage of me... "I think you should stop lying," he said, "and admit you love him, period." "Why?" Holden asked, still sounding as if he really wanted to know the answer. "Because it's true! And you know it's true!" "Do you always admit everything you know is true, Jesse?" Holden asked softly. "To people I love, I do!" "Yeah?" said Holden. "Like to Quen? What if you knew it was pretty nearly impossible for two boys to escape together from a sadistic slave owner, but one alone might just stand a chance, especially if the other stayed behind to keep the master distracted? Do you think you'd have told Quen that? Or do you think maybe you'd have lied and told him you planned to follow him,
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when really your plan all along was to stay behind and feed Presniakov's misery fetish for the rest of your life, if it meant your boy could get free and clear?" Jesse stared into the penetrating brown eyes for a long moment. "You don't know that," he said finally. "I don't know anything," said Holden calmly. "It was a hypothetical question." "Anyway," said Jesse, trying to collect himself, "what does that have to do with I asked you why you won't tell Bran you love him. He wants to hear it. It fucking kills him that you don't say it. And you won't why? Would it just give him a little too much power, to let him know? Because you got your poor little heart broken by your master, and now you can't love anybody who might hurt you?" "You're unbelievable," said Holden, staring at Jesse. "I think you're actually hoping I'll snap and beat you to death. You'd die happy if it meant you'd managed to get under my skin that badly. Gods, but you remind me of" "Who?" Jesse demanded when Holden trailed off. Holden smiled, meeting Jesse's eyes. "Myself." "What?" said Jesse, outraged. Holden laughed. "Sorry, kid, but it's true. You know I belonged to Alix, don't you? Ask her. She'll tell you how much trouble I always gave her, how the more she tried to give me space to sort myself out the worse I got, the more I pushed. I should have realized sooner. I'd have kept you on a tighter leash from the beginning, like she should have done with me." "Yeah, go ahead, threaten me," Jesse snarled. "That must mean you're right."
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Holden was still smiling. "I'm not threatening you, kid. It's too late now. And you'll be out of my hair soon enough. I'm just saying. We're the same kind of trouble, you and I. And we're in love with the same thing, aren't we?" "Bran isn't a thing," said Jesse more or less automatically, still furious. "I'm not talking about Bran," said Holden, with a curious look. Jesse sucked in his breath, suddenly realizing what he'd just said. Holden looked at him for a long moment, then went on. "I'm talking about the challenge. The rescue. Jumping into the boat to hide the kid from the evil marauding giant, maybe copping a quick feel in the boathouse afterwards.* I know. I make a living off it. And you're a natural. You tried to save Quen from Presniakov and now you're trying to save Bran from me, aren't you? You just can't leave well enough alone." "I guess you get to decide what's well enough," said Jesse aggressively, ignoring the first part of what Holden had said, which was clearly nonsense. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. For one thing, I might know Bran just a little bit better than some pissed-off kid who came charging into my house a week ago spitting fire in every direction. Did you say I can't love anyone who could hurt me? Do you think there'd be any surer way of keeping Bran from hurting me than letting him know he could?" Jesse blinked, stopped in his tracks. "I-- what?" "Bran would rather walk a mile on broken glass than hurt me," said Holden matter-of-factly. "If I tell him I love him and don't want to let him go, I might as well chain his sweet little heart to my ankle and throw away the key. So yes. Sure. I lie to him. Don't fucking tell me you don't know about lying to someone to save him."
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"Save him from what?" Jesse asked, bewildered. "What do you think? Even I'm not selfish enough to tell him something that would tie him for life to a tired middle-aged man who-- what?" Something about the words had caught at Jesse's mind, closing his mouth just as he'd opened it to shout something back at Holden. They were too like something he had heard recently. He sat very still, trying to recapture the inflection, the voice, bitter and tired, as if it had spoken the same words too many times before. "What's that look?" Holden demanded. "Oh," said Jesse slowly. "That's what Kai said." Holden peered at him. "Kai said I wasn't selfish?" "No, Kai said you were selfish. That Greta was tied to you for life. Because of the baby." "So?" Holden demanded. "So you've been buying his bullshit," said Jesse calmly. "Haven't you?" The older man's face went still, permanent lines born of past expressions laugh lines around the eyes and mouth, grooves in the forehead from raised eyebrows, a deeply worn vertical crease between the brows momentarily giving the whole face its only meaning. Jesse found himself examining the contradictory traces of expression, thinking that Holden's personality had stamped his face too thoroughly for it ever to turn as slack and absent as he had spoken of Bran's being. "What do you mean?" Holden asked quietly.
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"What do you think I mean? You think he's right, don't you? That you ruined Greta's life? That you'll ruin Bran's?" "I" Holden looked nonplussed. "What, you don't think so? I thought you and Kai agreed I was a fucked-up control freak." "You're fucked up," said Jesse, too interested to worry about whatever remnant of caution he hadn't already tossed to the wind, "but you're not a control freak. You're-- sort of-- the opposite." "Slow down," said Holden, squinting at Jesse. "I can't take these hairpin turns at my age. What's wrong with me now?" Jesse smiled, the genuine puzzlement on Holden's face suddenly making him feel friendly and almost protective. "It scares you shitless to own Bran, doesn't it?" Holden watched him without speaking. "That's it, isn't it? It's fine with Yves because you two are more like lovers than master and slave. And it's fine with Jer because he hasn't got anywhere else to go and at least you can tell yourself he's better off with you than at the knacker's yard. But you think the only way you can do right by Bran is by making it so you don't own him and he doesn't love you and you don't have any power over him at all. Because you'll fuck up his life if you do. Don't you? Same with all the kids you deal with. Pick them up, straighten them out, and hand them off. You don't trust yourself." "Should I?" Holden asked, his eyes intent on Jesse. Jesse laughed. "How the fuck should I know?" Holden shook his head, blinking. "I--"
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"I mean," Jesse went on heedlessly, "do you mean should you trust yourself to make sure Bran's never unhappy or worried or miserable again in his whole life? For fuck's sake, Larssen. You think that's going to happen if you do manage to shake him off your ankle? You think Greta would have married some fucking fairy prince if she hadn't had your baby? And you call him idealistic. You said it. Ragnarok is rigged. And you love him. Fucking tell him." Holden stood up abruptly, and Jesse felt a sudden, exhilarated thrill of fear, wondering if he had finally pushed the man past endurance. Holden crossed the distance between them in three steps, reached down and touched Jesse's face, stroking along his jawline with his thumb as Jesse met his eyes, fighting not to flinch or pull away. "Jesse," he said, his voice strangely caressing, then released Jesse's chin with a quick, peremptory gesture and turned away. "Go back to bed." "Alone?" said Jesse, looking up at Holden with a faint grin. "Don't even think about it," said Holden, sitting back down at the desk. "I'm worn out just talking to you." "If you're tired," said Jesse demurely, "I could top." "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Holden grinned suddenly back at him. "Move it, kid. Some of us have paperwork to finish." [Holden is referencing the myth retold in the ballad of Lokka Tattur. In another culture, he might have said something about white horses, damsels, and dragons.]
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CHAPTER 14 Wandering the house at night had become a bad habit of Jesse's, but the failure to close bedroom doors tightly was a bad habit of the entire household's, so it wasn't entirely Jesse's fault that after prowling around the upstairs hall for a few restless minutes, three nights after his confrontation with Holden, he found himself lingering in front of the slightly-ajar door of Holden and Alix's bedroom. There was no sound from within. Alix might be in Greta's room; Holden might be any number of places. The drawer of legal documents usually had the key in it. Marriage contract, wills, certificate of manumission-- what did that look like? He remembered Holden's warning last time he'd caught him snooping--revoke your status as a guest. Where would that leave you, exactly?-- but shrugged it off. What are they going to do to me? I already bitched the guy out to his face and he just sent me to bed. Over the past three days, Jesse had stopped wondering when the other shoe was going to drop for that snarling midnight conversation. Holden acted so much as if nothing had happened that Jesse might have wondered if he'd dreamed the entire thing, if not for the oddly absorbed, speculative look he had begun to catch on Holden's face when he was looking at Jesse. Bran had noticed the stray glances too, and although for the most part Brans behavior was as friendly as ever, he was getting quieter around Jesse, who was starting to look forward more and more to leaving. Tired of standing in the hallway dithering, Jesse pushed the bedroom door open, and his heart nearly stopped for a moment. Holden was in the bed, alone and apparently asleep. Alix must be sharing Greta's bed tonight. But why wasn't Holden sleeping with Yves or Jer or Bran, then? Moving the door back to its original position before coming further into the room, Jesse went to the bedside and stared down at the slave trainer's face, which looked drawn and anxious even in sleep. Poor Larssen. Yeah, my heart bleeds. Both voices-- one lazy and amused, one bitter and sardonic-- echoed in his head.
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Snooping was obviously out of the question, but Jesse didn't like the thought of going back to his own room and trying to sleep, either. Instead, he crossed to the wide windowsill of Holden's bedroom and sat down on it, curled half behind the curtains, watching the sleeping form on the bed pensively, as if whatever Holden was dreaming about might materialize in the air above his head, giving Jesse some clue as to what the man was thinking. Some little time later, Jesse was badly startled when the door creaked faintly and someone else came into the room. Motionless, his heart pounding, he realized it was Bran. He might have seen Jesse if he had looked in his direction, but he made straight for the bed and stood by it for what seemed like several minutes, looking down at his sleeping master, before bending down and pressing his lips to Holden's. Holden came awake by degrees, already kissing back as he opened his eyes, and his hands came up to cup Bran's face; as Bran tried to pull back, Holden sat up, following him, kissing him insistently. "Hi, sweetheart," he murmured when he had finally let Bran pull back slightly. "I'm sorry to wake you, master," said Bran in a low voice, "but you've told me I could, if I-- needed you." "You can wake me up every hour of the night if you do it like that," said Holden drowsily. "What do you need?" Bran smiled crookedly. "Nothing. I mean. You. I just need-- you." "Come here," said Holden after a moment, moving over and motioning to the bed next to him, and Bran lay down. Holden reached across him and smoothed out a wrinkle in the sheet under him, then adjusted the pillow under the boy's head, looking down at him with such tenderness and concern that Jesse's heart skipped a beat. "Can't sleep?"
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Bran shook his head. "Bad dreams?" "No, master," said Bran without moving. "Just can't get to sleep. Head won't quiet down." Holden nodded and touched the head in question tenderly. "Do you want to talk about it?" "There's not really anything to talk about, master, just-- me being ridiculous," said Bran, and then took a deep breath before adding, "Master? This is-- may I ask you for something really, really stupid?" "How stupid?" Holden smiled. Bran tried to smile back. "Never mind." "I'm just teasing, Bran," said Holden, sobering and touching Bran's forehead again. "You know you can ask for anything, kid." Bran cleared his throat. "I was just-- you know when I was sick last year?" "Yes," said Holden. "And if you're asking if you're ever allowed to spend time around those plague-ridden moppets again, the answer is no." The corners of Bran's mouth twitched. "Master, you know the odds of me catching something from the same kids twice are pretty slim, right?" "I don't care," said Holden, scowling. "Neither do I," said Bran. "That wasn't what I-- but I was just remembering. There was one night when I had a pretty high fever, and I couldn't-- settle down-- and you-- well, you-- sang to me."
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Holden was silent for a long moment before answering. "I didn't know you remembered that," he said finally. "You weren't very lucid at the time." Bran nodded. "I don't remember much. Just that you sang, and it was-- nice. It was a nice song. It was about morning." "It was a silly song, said Holden, stroking Brans cheek. But for almost a year, when Valor was three or four, me singing that particular lullaby was the only thing that stood a chance of getting her to sleep. I must have sung it to her a thousand times; I think its permanently printed on my brain. And it seemed to calm you down." "It-- did," said Bran dreamily. "I felt-- well, sick, and crazy, but while you were singing to me, and I could hear your voice, I could-- lie still. I could rest. I could sleep. Holden examined Bran silently for a few moments, then said, in an oddly constricted voice, So you want me to sing it to you now? Bran squirmed. "I told you it was stupid." "It's not stupid." Holden hesitated for a moment, then added, with an effort at a smile, "Just bear in mind that you were delirious the last time you heard it. I doubt my voice is as pleasant as you remember." Bran smiled back, his eyes bright, and said nothing. Holden cleared his throat and, after another moment's hesitation, began singing softly, in a gruff, uncertain baritone that grew slowly clearer and sweeter as the song went on: "At the root of the tree at the heart of the world,
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With a chain round his neck, the Wolf lies curled. His gleaming teeth and jaws are furled, And the sun shall rise in the morning. His chain, it is forged of the nerve of a bear, Of the voice of a fish, and a girl's chin-hair. His chain, it is light and strong and fair, And the sun shall rise in the morning. With a mountain's root, and a cat's foot-fall, And the spit of a bird, he is held in thrall, Though iron could bind him never at all, And the sun shall rise in the morning. The sun shall rise, the stars shall fade, For the binding which the good gods made Still loops the Wolf in its lovely braid, And the sun shall rise in the morning." Bran's eyes were closed. In the light of the half moon filtering through the window, Holden's face shone bright with tears. "Youre so good to me," Bran murmured without opening his eyes. "I love you, Bran," Holden said clearly. Bran's eyes snapped open, but he lay otherwise perfectly still and silent for a moment. Then "Say again?" he said. Holden reached out and gathered Bran up into his arms, crushing him against his chest. "I said I love you. I love you so damn much."
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"That's what I thought you said." Bran nestled closer into Holden's arms. "Well, go on. How long have you loved me?" "About... two years, I think," said Holden, pulling back to look curiously into Bran's face, which was calm and unsurprised, though mildly pleased. "Okay, said Bran a little impatiently, but be specific. What made you start?" "Does it matter, darling?" Holden asked, puzzled. "Of course it does," said Bran indignantly, sitting up straight. "That's usually the best part of the dream. Not much of a dream if all you can come up with is 'about two years,' is it?" "Dream...? Holden echoed blankly. "Look at you," said Bran, his own expression softening, and reached up to touch Holden's wet face. "It's nothing to cry about, master. I just like to hear it. When you first realized." "I--" Holden cleared his throat again and swallowed. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I cant remember... starting. Or realizing. I can't remember knowing you without loving you. I can't imagine knowing you without loving you. And I can't imagine what the hell I ever did to deserve to have someone like you love me as much as you do. I can't imagine I do deserve it. But fuck it. I love you." "Mmm," said Bran contentedly. "That's more like it. Go on." Holden snorted with laughter through his tears. "You really think you're dreaming, dont you? How do I convince you you're awake?" "You don't," said Bran sharply. "Don't wake me up. Keep talking."
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"I can't wake you up if I'm just a dream," Holden said, pushing tears impatiently from his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Sure you can. You have before." Bran reached out and took Holdens hand in his, lifting it to his lips. "Come on, master, don't cry. You were saying you've always loved me, because I'm so perfect, and you don't deserve to have me love you. That was great. Just say more stuff like that." He put Holden's hand at the nape of his neck. "And pet my head." Holden began stroking Bran's hair obediently, amusement mingling with the pain and love on his tear-stained face. "I do this all the time, idiot. You have very modest wish-fulfillment dreams. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. And you're still calling me 'master.'" Bran moved his head sensuously into Holden's touch. "What else would I call you? Asshole, Holden suggested, still caressing Bran's head. Liar. Coward. Its your dream. Go nuts. Bran smiled. No, you mean Holden." He said the name solemnly, almost reverently. "But I like calling you master. Remember when I first asked you why you couldnt keep me, how you said you weren't really my master, you were just my trainer?" "And now I'm a figment of your imagination," said Holden gravely. "Yes," said Bran with equal gravity. "But youre really my master... even when I wake up... and thats... He smiled again, pushing his head insistently against Holdens hand, which had gone still at his neck. And... maybe... I really came in here, before I fell asleep, and you sang to me, and Ill wake up next to you. What else would I have wish-fulfillment dreams about, master?
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Youre killing me, kid, said Holden, fresh tears spilling down his face. Brans eyes were brightening, too; he swallowed and moved closer to Holden, putting his head down on his master's shoulder as Holden's arms went around him. I wish... he said softly. What do you wish, Bran? Holden asked hoarsely. Bran kissed him on the neck. I wish youd hurry up and talk some more about how madly in love with me you are, before I wake up. Its bad enough trying to explain why Im crying to you, I mean the real you, but if Im still in bed with Jesse" Jesse made an involuntary startled movement at the mention of his own name, and accidentally smacked his elbow against the glass of the window with a loud bang. Holden looked up and saw him, perched on the windowsill, only half hidden by shadow and curtain. After a moment Bran lifted his head and followed his master's gaze bemusedly. Jesse stared back at them, frozen. "Hi, Jess," said Bran, then looked back at Holden. "What's he doing here?" Holden laughed quietly. "Trespassing," he said, his eyes back on Bran, drinking him in. "Go have your own damn dreams, Jesse." Not sure whether he wanted to laugh or cry himself, Jesse got shakily to his feet and nearly fell before he could steady himself, his knees unexpectedly weak. Holden kissed Bran's lips, long and slow and deep. "That's nice," said Bran a little breathlessly, when Holden had pulled away, "but tell me "
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"No, you tell me," said Holden, laying Bran down carefully on his back. "This is the closest you've ever come to bossing me around, and I'm not wasting the opportunity. I'll tell you I love you all you want during and after, but we are having sex now, and I am taking notes." Bran grinned up at him. "Yeah. Well. It's not like I'm going to say no to that. Although I'll probably wake up molesting Jesse again." "We'll see about that, won't we?" said Holden, and leaned down for another kiss as Jesse slipped silently from the room. At breakfast the next morning neither Holden nor Bran appeared. Jesse braced himself for questioning and speculation from the others, but no one said anything. If Alix noticed her husband's absence, she gave no sign; she and Greta chatted easily about Valor for most of the meal. Jer was quiet and preoccupied, and Yves seemed more than usually physically attentive to him, touching his arm or his back or even leaning across to kiss his cheek at intervals during the meal, but aside from that, Jesse saw no difference in anyone's normal behavior. It was well past noon, and Jesse had just gotten desperate enough for distraction to decide to check out the library, when he heard someone running down the stairs. As he hurried into the foyer, Bran pelted down the stairs and slammed without pausing into Jesse, shoving him up against the wall and attacking him with a ferocious open-mouthed kiss on his lips. Winded, Jesse struggled half-heartedly, Bran's fingers digging bruisingly into his shoulders as his tongue plunged halfway down Jesse's throat. Bran kissed him and kissed him, pulling back from his mouth only to begin biting and licking at his face like a psychotic puppy. "So," Jesse managed finally as Bran sucked his eyelids. "Tell me again about how he's just very kind to everyone." Bran laughed so hard he fell against Jesse.
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"He fucking loves me," he said in Jesse's ear, and then stuck his tongue into it before adding, "and you fucking got him to say it." "Yeah, well, hey!" Jesse said, as Bran dragged him down onto the floor and straddled his chest, trying to kiss him and talk at the same time. "Sif's golden, Jess, what the fuck did you say to him? I thought it was just the longest most sadistic dream ever, I finally just begged him to wake me up, I couldn't stand it any more, and he um managed to convince me I was awake" "And he said I got him to say it?" Jesse asked, rather smugly. "Well, I asked him why now, I mean, why now, and also why never before for the past two damn years--" "And what did he say?" Bran sat back on Jesse' s stomach, grinning. "Well, before he could really say anything he had to wrestle me onto the floor and pin my arms behind my back. I was a little... agitated." Jesse cracked up. "So once he had you down, then what did he say?" Bran started to answer, then grinned, laughed, tried to stop laughing, failed, and finally collapsed face down on top of Jesse, shaking both their bodies with laughter. "You're hysterical," said Jesse, rolling Bran off him onto the floor and sitting up while Bran lay on the floor, kicking his feet. "Go on, tell me." "He said," Bran gasped finally, "that, he said you were way too damn obnoxious to be merely human, so you had to be some kind of divine messenger, and he figured he'd better do what you said quick so you'd go ahead and disappear."
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Jesse squinted, but Bran's laughter was so infectious that he ended up grinning. "He was kidding," Bran managed, sobering enough to sit up, "but he said-that you were a lot like him." "He said that to me too," said Jesse. "Arrogant bastard." Bran smirked. "And he said you told him a lot about himself." "Damn right I did," said Jesse belligerently. "Yeah. He said you thought you were so fucking smart and you knew so much about everybody else and you didn't know shit about yourself, and he realized maybe he didn't either. Know shit about himself." Jesse shook his head, not sure whether to be offended or pleased. "What else did he say about me?" "That he found you disturbingly attractive," said Bran, with a sideways grin, "and he wondered if that meant he was a narcissist. But then he said he usually ended up wanting to fuck anyone I was obviously attracted to anyway, and it was probably a competitive thing, and by the way if I didn't stop making cow eyes at Lisa Kareyeva he'd sell me to her, love me or not." Bran thought for a moment as Jesse tried not to cackle. "Oh, he said wasn't I in love with you because you were so much like him except younger and prettier and less overcommitted, and then I hit him and he tackled me and we had sex again." "I guess that was a no," said Jesse dryly. Bran laughed again. "Sorry, Jess." He climbed half into Jesse's lap, locked his arms around Jesse's neck, and kissed him again, hard.
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"Where is he now?" Jesse asked, gasping for breath, when Bran finally broke the kiss. "Asleep. I wore him out," said Bran, not without satisfaction. "You didn't want to sit and gaze adoringly at him while he slept?" Jesse teased. "No, I wanted to come find you and express my eternal gratitude to you for finally getting him to spit it the fuck out," said Bran, and crushed his lips against Jesse's again as Alix came out into the foyer. Jesse met her eyes past Bran's head. "Bran," she said gently, and Bran pulled away and looked up at her, a shadow crossing his face for the first time. "Where is he?" "In your bed, mistress," said Bran nervously. "Asleep." "Come here," she said softly, and Bran scrambled to his feet and approached her tentatively, standing before her with his gaze respectfully lowered. "You don't have to look so guilty," she said, reaching up to touch Bran's cheek. "It's just that I deserve a kiss, too." Bran looked into his mistress' clear, untroubled green eyes for several seconds before leaning down to kiss her gently on the lips. She kissed back softly. When she pulled away, Bran sank to his knees and put his arms around her waist, burying his face against her stomach. She stroked his hair, looking down at him fondly. "One thing you can say for my husband," she said to Jesse, "he's always had good taste in men."
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CHAPTER 15 Alix's brisk "Now run along and finish kissing Jesse" sent Bran, with only a backwards grateful glance at his mistress, dragging Jesse by the hand up the stairs and down the hall. As they passed Yves' door, Jer and Yves came out of Yves' room; Jer picked up a startled Bran's hand and pulled him off in a different direction, while Yves grabbed Jesse's upper arm and dragged him into the room, slamming the door behind him and pushing him hard towards the chair. Jesse sat down hard and swallowed, his eyes on Yves, wondering what was going on. "It happens," Yves said in a friendly tone, as he sat down opposite Jesse on the bed, "that your appalling behavior has, so far, had a net result of good. So if you actually behave yourself for the next two weeks, you might not spend them unable to sit down. Your call." Jesse eyed Yves. "What are you saying?" "I'm saying," said Yves, "that the only reason my master-- and yours-- hasn't given you the hide-tanning you so richly deserve, is because of that same obsession with what he has the right to do that kept him from turning Bran into a supernova of pure joy until this morning. And I am at least as silvertongued as you are, and a hell of a lot more likely to be in a position to talk in his ear, so I suggest you don't do anything to ruin my good mood." He grinned suddenly. "And gods but I'm in one. Did you see that kid's face? Have you ever seen anything so happy in your entire life?" "You're not jealous?" Jesse asked curiously. Yves laughed, sounding genuinely amused. "If I were going to be jealous, I wouldn't just be starting now. This isn't exactly news to anyone but Bran." "How do you even know what happened?" Jesse asked, eyeing Yves warily.
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"Because before he says anything to Bran he has to agonize for a while over what's the right thing to do, doesn't he? He was so quiet and spaced out with Jer and me, after you ambushed him in the study, that we finally bullied him into telling us what was wrong, and he looked so damn guilty that we just started laughing at him. Even Jer told him he was being an idiot. We told him to stop moping and go to Bran and tell him last night-- but I guess he chickened out and Bran came to him, judging from where he is now and the way the kid is incandescing around the house." Jesse squinted at Yves, choosing not to mention his own privileged information about how the scene had played out. "Jer is okay with this?" Yves was still grinning. "Like I said, this isn't exactly news. And you can't look at the kid and not be happy for him. Can you?" Jesse sighed and leaned his head back, finally letting a smile creep onto his face. "I guess not." "You did good, kid," said Yves, standing up and ruffling Jesse's hair, and instead of resenting the familiarity of the gesture, Jesse found himself enjoying it. "You're a meddling ass, but you did good. And if you put one dainty toe out of line for the remainder of your stay here I will fucking end you, is that clear?" "Yes, sir," said Jesse, still smiling. "Thank you for not ending me now." "You're welcome. That was all. Oh, no it wasn't. I wanted to say that your best behavior-- which you're going to be on from here on out--" "Yes, yes." "--does not necessarily preclude seducing the master, if you feel so inclined. Normally that would go without saying, but this is sort of an odd situation, you know?"
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"No!" said Jesse. "You think?" Yves cackled. "I meant you," he said. "This whole is-he-or-isn't-he thing, where you're a slave he's spending a fortune and risking his reputation to help, but he's not going to fuck you or smack the shit out of you for your incessant insolence because he doesn't have the right. But he's starting to crackle a little with sexual tension when he's around you, so if you feel like making the offer, you don't have to worry about the rest of us getting territorial. Especially now that you've done so well for Bran." "I'd rather die," said Jesse grimly. "Don't knock it till you've tried it," said Yves lazily. "Now get out of my room." **** Jesse stood in the hallway for a few moments, a little shellshocked, before Bran came out of Jer's room to join him, looking like he'd been crying. "People being nice to me," he said, waving his hand dismissively before Jesse could say anything. "I'm actually starting to think this is just a really long, really convincing dream. I mean, Jer just told me-- Never mind. Jess, am I awake?" "You're awake," said Jesse. "Remember, he convinced you. How did he do that?" Bran blushed. "Because," Jesse added, grinning, "I could do the same thing. I mean, if you wanted. If you were still wondering if you were awake."
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Bran grinned back. "You think you can do it as well as he does? He has a lot more experience." "Please," said Jesse, leading on towards Bran's room. "Try me." **** Leaving Bran asleep in his own bed with a smile on his face, Jesse got up as quietly as he could and walked out into the hall, which was deserted. Yves' door was shut. Holden's wasn't. Jesse barely hesitated this time before walking in. "What the fuck are you doing in my bedroom?" Holden asked a few moments later, as Jesse panted with the pain of the vice grip in his hair. "And for that matter, while I'm asking, what were you doing here last night? Have you ever heard of respect? Gratitude? Simple fucking good manners?" He threw Jesse down on the bed; Jesse managed to roll over on his back as Holden knelt over him. Holden slapped him across the face, hard. Jesse grunted. "Like it rough?" he purred. "Turn over," Holden gritted. "You can do it like this, you know," said Jesse without moving. Holden slapped him again. "I was doing it like this when you were an evil little gleam in your mother's eye, boy. Turn over." Jesse rolled over, his head ringing, and wasn't surprised when his tunic was yanked out of the way and Holden's hard palm hit his bare ass with blistering force. Well, not surprised that it had happened anyway, but the pain-- the man had a hand like an oak plank-- wrenched a gasp from him. "Ah-- fuck!"
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"You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do this," Holden grunted out as he spanked Jesse hard enough to cross Jesse's eyes. He wanted to talk back-- Oh, yes I do-- but when the first syllable came out as a heated mewl and he heard Holden's answering gasp of satisfaction, he clamped his mouth shut furiously on the second, glad his hardening cock was trapped safely out of sight between his belly and the bed. But the spanking went on, and when Jesse, lost in a welter of burning pain, realized how hard his treacherous hips were bucking up to meet Holden's hand, it was too late. "You little slut," Holden growled without stopping. "You love this, don't you?" "Fuck you," Jesse gasped. "On the contrary--" and the spanking stopped, startling Jesse more than its beginning, so much that he lay still for a moment, and then Holden's weight was on top of Jesse, his teeth worrying at the nape of Jesse's neck, his hips grinding agonizingly against Jesse's throbbing ass. Jesse bucked and fought, and Holden laughed, easily capturing his wrists and pinning them in one hand as the other fisted itself in Jesse's hair, crushing his face into the mattress. "Feel good, boy?" Holden whispered in his ear, and Jesse choked on so many obscenities that the only thing to come out was a wordless, wanton moan. "Keep struggling. Don't think I don't know you're grinding your cock up against the sheet. Think you can come this way?" "Yes," Jesse hissed defiantly. "That's right," said Holden, and licked Jesse's neck. "You are like me." Rage rocked Jesse so hard that before he had time to realize it had shot straight to his cock, he came, with an inarticulate shout of ferocious ecstasy,
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into the mattress, shuddering, and Holden laughed as he peeled himself up off Jesse's trembling body and sat up. "Is that it?" Jesse managed, fairly steadily, rolling out of his own wet spot and staring at Holden. "What do you want now?" Holden asked, watching Jesse through half-closed eyes, his own cock still rock hard, pointing at Jesse where he lay. "Nothing," he said between his teeth. Holden smiled. "Nothing?" "Please," said Jesse then, and cleared his throat, trying not to choke on the words. "What do you want, boy?" Jesse swallowed. "Fuck me." "Yeah?" said Holden, his eyes still half closed. "That what you want? You want me to open your red ass up with my cock? You want me to make it hurt nice and hard? You want me to fuck you till you can't walk, Jesse?" Jesse hadn't realized his own cock could get hard again so fast. "--Yes." "Yes what?" Holden asked, moving in. "Yes," said Jesse, closing his eyes and letting Holden's weight roll him closer, "master." "By which," he added a little over an hour later, "I don't mean I want to stay here or anything."
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"That works out well," said Holden, lying boneless on the bed beside him, his eyes closed, his hair plastered to his forehead, "because it just so happens I don't have a death wish either." Jesse rolled over, wincing, and grinned. "Tired, master?" "Don't flatter yourself," said Holden, still with his eyes closed. "This is cumulative. Bran kept me up all night. Where is Bran? And what were you doing in my bedroom?" "Bran's asleep," said Jesse, biting his lip as he squirmed out of another wet spot, "and I was checking to see if you were awake." "So you could murder me, or just go through all my personal papers again?" Holden shook his head. "Did I say I wished I was training you, kid? What I meant was that I'd be spending the rest of my life thanking the gods on my knees that I didn't have to." "Aw," said Jesse, trying to wiggle his toes, without notable success. "Maybe it's time to retire?" Holden chuckled without opening his eyes. "Maybe it's time for you to get the fuck out of my bed. Unless you want to ruin Bran's day with the news that one of us is dead." "Can't get up yet, master," said Jesse lazily. "Can't fuck me till I can't walk and then make me walk. But I'm young. Give me ten minutes. I'll bring you some water in an hour or so." Holden sat up with lightning quickness and, before Jesse had time for more than an abbreviated yelp, dragged him over his lap and started spanking his already painfully raw and searing ass with a vigor that didn't seem to have abated at all after his recent exercise.
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"Fucking hell!" Jesse screamed, seeing stars. "Stop, stop, please master, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Holden stopped, shoved Jesse off his lap and fell back onto the bed, closing his eyes again. "Death wish," he repeated. "One more word, Jesse, and you get out of this bed whether you can walk or not." "I won't--" said Jesse, and hit the floor hard, bruising his shoulder, still laughing. **** (TWO WEEKS LATER) "I wish this didn't have to be so public," Holden said, giving Jesse, who'd been scrubbed and groomed and combed within an inch of his life, a skeptical look as the four of them walked down the stairs. "I'm not really convinced he can keep his mouth shut for long enough to pull it off." "It would look too strange for Tatiana to visit us without her husband," Alix explained patiently, "and even stranger for her to buy a slave on impulse with her husband there. He's the abolitionist, after all. It's got to be this party. Besides, the more public the better, really." "I know, I know," said Holden as they reached the foot. "The more public the transfer, the less scandal attaches to us when the kid vanishes. Still. I'm getting too old for this life of constant subterfuge and skullduggery. It'll be a relief when it's all over and I can go back to teaching kids how to look impressed at the size of their masters' cocks. Just keep your eyes on Bran and me, kid. That's still the only time you seem disinclined to talk." "Oh," said Bran, as Holden's arm went around his waist, "so you do remember my name, master?"
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"What?" Holden asked, puzzled. Bran grinned at him. "It's just that I don't think you've called me anything but 'love' for about-- two weeks." Rolling his eyes, Holden smacked Bran's ass. "High time we got Jesse out of here. He's starting to rub off on you. Damn, I left the keys in the bedroom. Run get them for me, Jesse." Jesse started to make a comment about his own competence at stair-climbing versus Holden's, glanced at his master's eyebrows, thought better of it, and went. Looking around the master bedroom, he spotted the keys quickly, lying on top of the dresser, then saw another set of keys sticking out of the lock of the drawer of legal documents. Perfect. He could get a look at something he'd been curious about since his first days here, before he left forever. He opened the drawer; the will still lay on top, and he shuffled it out of the way to find the document in an unfamiliar handwriting headed CERTIFICATE OF MANUMISSION, which he picked up and started to read. "This is to certify that I, Tatiana Rostova, being heretofore in lawful ownership of the slave known as Jesse, having lawfully purchased him from Alix Jamesen and Holden Larssen, who lawfully purchased him from Gregorei Presniakov, who lawfully purchased him from his legal guardians at the age of fifteen, do now and with the signing of this document renounce my ownership of Jesse, rendering him masterless and free at the age of nineteen--" "I'd have just given it to you," said Holden behind him, and Jesse whirled to see the older man leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, smirking
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at him, "but I didn't want to deprive you of the thrill of nosing through my private affairs without permission one last time." "Why?" Jesse managed. "I thought--" "Don't worry," said Holden, "the official story's the same. We sell you to Tatiana tonight, and once she's gotten you home and packed you a lunch and drawn you a little map to the border, you take off. But this means that if you ever come back to this country, if anyone still remembers you and wants to start anything by that time, you can prove you're a free man. With a spotless record, even. Which is a bit of a laugh, isn't it?" Jesse considered this, still a little breathless, then asked carefully, "By-- what time?" Holden winked at him. "By the time I'm dead or officially too old for this damn job, and you get a frantic call from Alix or Yves saying they can't figure out what these fucking kids are thinking and the business needs you as a consultant." "Consultant?" Jesse echoed numbly. "Yes, consultant. I'm not actually giving you anything. The will hasn't changed, as you may or may not have noticed in your rush to chart new lands of none-of-your-business. But a talent like yours for comprehending the criminal mind shouldn't be wasted-- so I'm offering you a job, eventually, if you want it. I think you will. This country's fucked up in some ways, but it's home, isn't it? And you've got that itch for rescue. You'll be back." "But I can't come back," Jesse insisted, with the only thought still clear in his mind. "Quen is still--" "--dead," said Holden. "Presniakov dug his own grave on that one. Can't claim you've found your long-lost runaway when you've already claimed
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you watched him torn to pieces by your dogs. Must be someone else who just looks like Quen. Aren't you the lucky one, finding your dead lover's doppelganger off in barbarian country? And if anyone wants to make any allegations to the contrary, you can always consult my daughter, who I suspect will by then be a particularly ruthless attorney with a reputation for verbally eviscerating abusive slave owners." "You're completely shameless," said Jesse, fascinated. "Coming from you, Jesse, that means a lot," said Holden gravely. "Now come along and try to look like a naive rich lady's ill-advised impulse purchase. Shouldn't be too much of a stretch. Especially the 'ill-advised' part." Jesse started for the door, still clutching the document in his hand, but when he reached Holden, he hesitated. "Master--" "I'm not your master," said Holden, and reaching for Jesse, drew him in and kissed him, briefly and sweetly, on the lips. "Jesse--" "Yes," said Jesse, swallowing. "I'm really sorry about your mouth." THE END
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Other Stories in The Slave Breakers series by Maculategiraffe

The Slave Breakers (Book 1): Brans Story The Slave Breakers (Book 3): Lees Story
Even more shorts and mini-series set in The Slave Breakers universe can be found at onMaculategiraffes LiveJournal. http://maculategiraffe.livejournal.com/10338.html

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The Slave Breakers

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story

Slave Breakers (Book 2): Jesses Story