Chapter 19

"Breakfast will be up soon ... get a bath and have..."

Words floated through my mind, drifting in through the soft echoes of sleep.

"...what will you do next..." A whisper of another voice.

"...punishment. He's got to be made an example..."

"...surely deserves it for what he's done..."

I twitched in my sleep, my body anticipating Master's punishment already, even if I was unsure what I'd done yet. I dragged my heavy lids up briefly.

Bright sun.

Warm, cozy bed.

It took only seconds more for my mind to process that I don't have a bed. I shouldn't be in one. Oh Gods! Master was going to stripe my thighs for being in his bed! I flailed in panic, scrambling to escape the confines of the soft blanket cocooning me. How the hell had I gotten so wrapped up in the damn thing? I never get under Master's covers; he never lets me.

Oh, Gods, what the hell had I done last night?

My thrashing efforts finally dislodged me from the blanket, and I flung myself to the floor. But I'd already heard Master moving, sitting up and yelling...

Oh, Gods, oh Gods, oh Gods, I chanted in my head as I prostrated myself into a heap on the floor. Maybe he'd see I was trying to be good, maybe he wouldn't make me bleed today...

"Kye!"

The sharp call of my name broke through my frenzied thoughts. Had Master really just used my name? He almost never called me by just my name. Pet, whore, boy, his pretty little Kye, maybe...

Another body dropped to the floor in front of me, gripping my shoulders and urging me to look up. For a moment, I was still afraid Master's snarling face would snap at me, telling me to remember my position. And that fear kept me from lifting my eyes for several long seconds.

Until the words of a softer, even more familiar voice filtered through my sleep-addled mind.

"Kye, Kye, look at me. It's all right. You're safe."

I lifted my pale eyes to my brother's anxious gaze. I could see the worry in the way his dark sapphire eyes scanned my face. I'd frightened him.

"Tareth?" I slowly unfurled myself from the floor.

"Are you...awake?" Tareth obviously wasn't sure what he wanted to ask in light of my frantic flight from the bed.

"I'm sorry. I—I thought..." I bit down on my lip. He didn't need to know that I'd thought he was the man who'd owned me, whipped me... and more... for years. "A nightmare, I guess."

I offered a tentative smile, hoping he'd just accept that. Fortunately, he seemed to as he just smiled back and patted my knee.

"I understand. Last night must have been rather frightening."

Last night?

Tareth took my hand, turning it over in his as he surveyed the bandage. I stared at it dumbly. How had I hurt my hand?

"Does it still hurt? Dr. Fulbert said he'd come back to check on you during the day. I told Lord Ashton I didn't think you should be involved in hunting down some traitorous cur, but he said you insisted. Now, come on, I'm sure you could use a nice..."

Tareth's words faded as the previous evening came tumbling back in vivid clarity. Charlie. Richard. Lord Ashton... Ash... had he truly said he didn't hate me? That he even liked me... at least a little? Had I... Oh, Gods... had I really burrowed against him?

"...you're probably still sore and tired...I'll help you get..."

Abruptly, I realized Tareth had pulled up the bottom of my shirt and was trying to get it over my head. Panic seized my chest. "No!"

As I struggled to pull my shirt back down, I heard an audible gasp behind me. I barely processed Tareth's surprised, wide eyes at my outburst as I whipped my head around, heart hammering in my chest.

Lord Ashton. Oh, Gods. Those beautiful cinnamon eyes were locked on my back, wide at first with shock. Then they narrowed... understanding what the ugly scar lines littering my skin meant before I managed to cover them. The badges of my failures.

The deep frown. The tight lips. The flared nostrils.

Oh, Gods, I couldn't look at the disappointment that was going to settle on his face. I turned back to Tareth, my eyes blurring.

"What's wrong?" Tareth asked anxiously.

But I could only focus on the footsteps as I heard Lord Ashton stop behind me. I held my breath as I closed my eyes which forced a tear to slip free. Damn control.

"Kye? Sir?"

I sensed the viscount's potent presence hovering over me. The quiet slither of soft cotton against thick thighs and hesitant fingers ghosting over my shrouded back let me know just how close he now was.

"Kye." The man's voice was hoarse, throaty and dry. "Tell me... what I saw... wasn't..."

I swallowed thickly. "I can't, sir. I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" he croaked. "Why would you--?" He broke off, clearing his throat as I felt his palm flatten against my spine. "May I?"

I drew in a fortifying breath as I steeled myself. He'd already seen it, what did it matter now. Maybe it was better Tareth knew now too, before I became too hopeful and too attached to him again. When he left me this time, unable to even look at me for his disgust in what I'd become, it would probably destroy me.

I nodded quickly, stiffening my spine as I called on my training, my discipline, to keep me calm. Be strong. Be good.

"Kye? What's going on? What's he--?" Tareth's dark eyes were wide with apprehension and distress as he glanced from me to the viscount.

I felt the back of my shirt slowly slip up to my shoulders. I heard another harsh breath and a muttered curse from behind me.

"Gods, I had no idea," the words huffed out on a harsh breath as Ashton's fingers skimmed raised scars, causing me to shiver. "When you talked about his rules... discipline... punishment... I never thought he'd been... that he'd do something so..."

A moment later, my brother shifted to my side, peering over my shoulder.

"Oh, Gods! What--? How--?" Tareth's anguished cries cut into my heart.

I clenched my jaw, trying to maintain my control as I pulled the shirt the rest of the way over my head, clutching it in my fists against my chest.

"Kye!" Tareth was now kneeling in front of me again, gripping my shoulders fiercely, shaking them. His eyes were glistening when I managed to lift my chin to him. "Who—who did this to you?!"

"I'm going to kill him!"

I flinched at the sudden outburst from behind me.

Lord Ashton was on his feet, stalking back and forth as he ranted, his hands clenching into fists. "How could the bastard—... Amoratos are supposed to be—... He acted like he cared about you! How could he even think...!"

"Kye! Tell me!" Tareth demanded, his brows furrowed.

I lifted my lashes slowly to meet his wrath. "I wasn't good enough."

"What?" Both men snapped at once, probably because my voice had barely been a whisper. It was so hard admitting that aloud. Because as much as I had tried, over and over and over again, I had never been good enough or strong enough—for either father or the marquis.

"You told me to be strong, to be good, when you left," I told Tareth, my voice pleading with him to understand. "I tried. I really tried. It just... was never enough."

"For who?" Tareth demanded. "Did papa do this?! Is that why he'd never let me see you? Because he'd... he'd—"

I shook my head quickly. Tareth seemed on the verge of lashing out at something—and I hoped it wasn't me. "No. No. Father didn't—he didn't do that."

But Tareth was searching my pale eyes like he often used to when he knew I might be lying. "But he did... hurt you, didn't he? After I left."

"I deserved it. I—I wasn't fast enough or I-I'd not be strong enough or—"

"Damn it! He promised!" Tareth cursed.

Then suddenly Tareth had me wrapped up in his arms. "Gods, Kye, I'm so sorry. I should have begged Count Sterling—the elder count—to take you in too right then, but I was so afraid he'd decide not to apprentice me either. And later, when I came back for you, papa said you had your own contract."

I nodded against his shoulder. "I did. With Marquis Barrett."

Tareth jerked back, eyes widening. He glanced behind me to Lord Ashton. "Wait. The marquis? Isn't that who poisoned —?"

"Yes, Reth, it is," the viscount confirmed, as we both waited for my brother to finish formalizing his thoughts.

"A-And I heard talk from some of the others... I heard you had his amorato..." Tareth's voice trailed off as he looked back at me, the questions in his eyes quickly fading into comprehension. "But I-I don't understand... you said you contracted with him... If you were his amorato, did you fall in love? After you went to work for him?"

I wrinkled my nose as I heard a harsh laugh behind me.

"No. Kye, was never his amorato," Lord Ashton spat out. "That bastard isn't capable of kindness, let alone love."

"Then... what...?"

"He wanted me to pretend to be his amorato," I explained softly. "He—he liked the status, the reputation, having one gave him."

"But no one could actually love that maggot. It'd be near impossible for him to woo himself a real amorato." Ashton had begun to pace again, his fists still clenched, as he ranted under his breath. "I should have known it was a fucking sham from the moment I saw you with him. But I was too fucking jealous to see—"

"Wait, so—so the marquis did this?" Tareth's voice pitched higher with bewilderment as he ran hesitant fingers over the scars on my back.

I nodded again, slowly.

"Why? Why—how could he do such a thing?" The pain in his voice hurt. I could tell he was ready to pity me, but he didn't know that I'd earned most of those scars with my weakness, my lack of control, my disobedience.

"Because I deserved them," I ground out, hating that he was making me say it. Didn't he know why? Couldn't he have figured it out without me having to say it?

"What? No, no—" Tareth was shaking his head.

"Kye, you know that's not—" Lord Ashton was stalking closer.

I wrenched free of Tareth's hold, jaw clenched. "I was his whore, Tareth. A really bad one. Because I hated him. And I couldn't ever be good enough, or stay strong enough to ever satisfy him. So yes, he punished me. And I deserved it."

The dumbfounded look on my brother's face twisted from shock to horror to loathing during my rant.

Oh, Gods... what the hell had come over me? Why had I just blurted all that at him? Was I trying to get him to hate me sooner? To make him run out the door in disgust?

"Kye, you know that's not true," Ashton was saying, but my focus was on the myriad of emotions playing over my brother's face.

He was shaking his head, obviously not wanting to believe it. "No, no... why would you... you wouldn't do that! Why would you let him—?"

My mouth dropped open. Let? He thought I wanted to be the man's whore, the whipping boy for his frustration? My eyes blurred.

"I was a kid!" I snapped. "I had no choice! Papa gave me to the marquis to earn money for mama. She needed medicine... I did what I had to do. What I was told to do."

"You could have run away when he expected—that!"

"Tareth, that's enough!" Lord Ashton cut him off before he continued.

Run away? I almost laughed out loud, but ended up choking back a sob. How many nights had I lain awake wishing I could have been anywhere but in that man's house, under his control? How many times had I tried to run before he'd managed to beat the rebellion out of me? How many days had I stared at the rising sun wondering if it would be my last, sometimes hoping it would be?

Gods, I just wanted Tareth to leave... to leave me alone in my humiliation. I closed my eyes, fighting for control of my spiraling emotions: anger, fear, terror, shame... Maybe the gods would finally take pity on me and smite me down for my weakness.

"Kye!" A forceful grip on my shoulders was shaking me. "Stubborn, look at me now!"

My eyes fluttered opened, obeying the command instinctively. God those eyes. They were so... damn... enticing. And... compassionate?

My shoulders were released as wonderfully warm, soothing palms cupped my jaw and neck, holding me, grounding me.

"Are you with me now?" Lord Ashton asked softly.

I managed to nod, I think. Whatever I did, it elicited a slight smile from the man, so I let out a shaky breath.

"Good." His reassuring tone was slowly calming me, and I found myself leaning toward that broad chest, seeking further comfort. "Now, first you are going to take a nice, long bath. Unless you'd like to eat first?"

I shook my head. Right now my stomach was tied into so many knots I didn't think I could eat without being sick. Gods, had I really just told my brother I was a whore? That I'd let the man beat me, and only wished for the strength to take it without falling apart?

I cut my eyes over to my brother; damn tears were getting in the way, though, and I couldn't focus on him. But the viscount tightened his grip, forcing my gaze back to his before I let my shame overwhelm me again.

"No. We'll talk about everything else later. Right now is about you. And you need food, a bath, and rest. In whichever order you'd like." He actually grinned.

"I'd like the bath, sir," I breathed out in a shaky sigh.

"Reth, go turn on the water," he ordered without even looking at my brother.

Those alluring eyes stayed focused on me, as if I were some exquisite new jewel he never wanted to part with. I nearly squirmed with need. The yearning to be wanted, to be treasured... to be loved... That hope... desire... that I'd buried so deep for so long...

Ashton bent his head, his lips grazing my cheek as he spoke. "I meant what I said last night." I started to frown because last night seemed like so long ago, but he continued. "I've been captivated by you since I first saw you. And I know I've made some horrible assumptions and mistakes over the last few days. All I can say is that I'm a jealous bastard, and I let my emotions get the better of me. I am truly sorry and hope you'll forgive me one day. I promise I'll do everything I can to earn your trust. And maybe someday even your affection."

What? My fingers wrung the shirt in my hands. I could feel his heart beating against the edges of them where they were sandwiched between us. He'd really meant what he said last night? How could he care for someone like me? Why would he care about someone like me?

"And I'm so fucking amazed at how you let go at your brother," he added. "You hold yourself so damn closed in, so in control all the time. You're so fucking strong, it's scary."

Tremors shook my body again, and I could feel his words threatening to crumble what little strength I had left. "No..."

"Yes, Kye. You are. You are so much more than the pet that devil tried to make you into. You're strong, fierce, protective, and stunning. I know you don't believe it. I can see it in your eyes. You think you have to be so fucking unyielding and disciplined, adhering to some ridiculous rules of obedience and restraint that bastard instilled in you. But you don't. You can stop hiding the man you are now. I've seen him, last night, this morn. He's there, aching to come out. If you just let him."

How could he know all that? He hardly knew me. My body quivered at the thought of escaping Barrett's immense control. Yes, I was currently physically free of him, but mentally? Could I really escape the hold the man had over me?

I bit my bottom lip as I looked up at the viscount—Ash. The man I'd spoken more words to in the last day than I had to anyone else in over four years.

A knock at the door had both of us looking up. "The breakfast trays, sir," a woman called.

"Come in."

The door swung open as Ashton and I stepped apart.

"Bath is ready," Tareth announced, simultaneously coming back into the main suite.

I nodded vaguely, as the momentary spell Ashton had me under was broken. I blinked rapidly, my ears still ringing with the words the viscount—Ash—had said. I... I needed... to think...

"I'll work on getting you some clothes—"

I absently nodded my thanks to Tareth, easing toward the bathing room. Gods, I was so looking forward to soaking away the grime of the last couple days. If only my past could be washed away so easily...

Crash!

"By the Gods!"

I whipped around at the clatter of dishes hitting the floor. Samuel stood in the middle of a mess of food and dishes splattered at his feet, gaping.

Alisha swiftly twisted in shock from where she had just set down the first tray, taking in first Samuel, before following his gaze... to me.

She let out a high pitched yelp as she pressed her hands over her mouth in alarm.

"He—he—His back..." Samuel stuttered disbelievingly. Alisha grabbed Sam's arm, clinging to him, nearly hiding behind him. Her face flushed with embarrassment.

"Sam..." the viscount's voice warned the man against saying anything thing insulting as he instinctively swept me behind him with his arm. Gods, everyone was going to know of my weakness written on my back. I dropped my forehead against Lord Ashton's spine.

But Samuel was too stunned to stop his torrent of words. "I don't understand... Barrett coddled him, doted on him in front of everyone... I thought—"

Lord Ashton pierced him with a glare. "Barrett was good at making everyone believe things, apparently. Even me. And Kye, apparently, was even better at hiding the truth."

"I—" Samuel started, but then apparently couldn't find the words he wanted. "You never said... You stayed in his room all the time... I thought... we all thought... you were—"

"Lazy," I finished softly for him from where I was hiding behind the viscount. "Egotistical... pampered... I know. I heard."

"Oh, hell... " Samuel rubbed at his chin anxiously, obviously upset as he realized just how badly he had mistaken my circumstances in Lord Barrett's home.

I felt Tareth take my arm to guide me toward the bath, as he glared at Samuel. I could just see the animosity in Tareth's gaze as he realized that Samuel had been in Barrett's home with me—and been complicit in my treatment.

"Gods, Kye... I—I didn't know. I-I treated you so..." Samuel seemed to pale, maybe even looked a little nauseous.

"Sam, you can apologize to Kye later," the viscount interrupted the man's rambling, making a sweeping gesture with his arms to indicate Sam should work on cleaning up and fetching a new tray.

"I guess it's a good thing you'd rather have a bath first." Ashton smiled back at me. "Since most of our breakfast ended up on the floor."