Chapter 7

"—find him!"

My body jerked at the sound, but I couldn't push the fog from my brain enough for the voice to make sense.

"He tried to kill my brother! I'll have his head! He's here somewhere, Liam, I know it!"

I winced at the reverberating shout, wishing it would just shut up and let me sink back into the peaceful darkness. No, he's not here, I wanted to yell back. Just go away!

Footsteps pounded, and I realized they were now in the room, ransacking it in search of my master.

"He's gone, sir. He had to have known we were coming."

"His little maggot spies are everywhere."

I almost chuckled at the absurdity—who was he to talk? He had spies here too.

Another set of footsteps rushed in. "We've checked everywhere else, sir. Barrett and his steward are gone. The staff doesn't know where—and I think they are telling the truth. I don't think the man trusted anyone but Richard."

"That doesn't surprise me, Charlie."

Oh, just go the hell away! I groaned softly at the pounding in my head as my forehead dropped to my knees that were drawn up in front of me.

"Oh, what have we here?" the deep voice sounded amused now. "Looks like Barrett left his little whore behind."

Again. That title. Why did I have to be 'his little whore'? I didn't want to be that. I didn't choose to be that.

A large hand suddenly gripped my hair and yanked my head up. I hissed in protest, still struggling to get my eyelids to work.

"Look at me!"

I swear I tried to obey the command. Instinct told me this man was about to become my new master, whether I wanted one or not. Either that or my executioner. Maybe he'd finish what Master had started.

Not sure which would be better at the moment. As much as I'd not wanted to die a short while ago, the stabbing pain in my head had me rethinking that plan.

"Look at me!" This time he gave my head a shake with his punishing grip on my hair.

Strangely, it was enough to pull me out of my pained stupor and allowed me to slit my eyes open.

Viscount Ashton Sterling stared down at me, his face twisting in a myriad of emotions. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me. Were my blue eyes too pale for him, my ashen tangles too long? Did he look at me and immediately only see a whore?

His nose wrinkled in disgust. "He's drunk. You can smell the liquor on him," Lord Ashton surmised.

I didn't have the energy or care to refute him. I wished I was drunk, maybe my head wouldn't hurt so bad. Or maybe it would be worse—I'd heard getting drunk could leave you with a bad headache.

"Looks like he couldn't even keep hold of the glass," one of the others said.

"What do you want to do with him?"

Ashton continued to hold my hair in his fist for several moments as he stared down at me. I fleetingly thought I saw a flash of desire in his eyes. I'm sure it was just my own wishful thinking, born from my own dreams of the man.

"Take him. He's Barrett's whore. I guarantee he knows something." The viscount released my hair with a shove.

"Yes, sir." Then someone was jostling my limp body. My mind screamed out a protest, yet I couldn't get my limbs to respond. I was thrown over someone's shoulder and carried from the room. The blood rushing to my head from the inverted position did nothing for the nausea curdling my stomach.

I vomited what little food I'd had today down the back of the man carrying me.

"Fucking hell!" I was abruptly flung from my perch to the floor.

Someone was laughing nearby. "He got you good, Charlie."

"Shut up, Liam! You take him, see how you like it when he tosses up all over you."

I slit my eyes open to see the two men arguing. Charlie, I assumed, was the one grabbing Master's blanket from the bed and frantically wiping at the back of his trousers. He was a stout man, the beginnings of a course black beard marred his chin. Liam was bent over laughing, his red hair tied back in a short tail at his nape.

"No way. I'll call Donnelly up here. He can deal with him."

My eyes shifted, and I realized Lord Ashton had already left. I was a little glad. I didn't want the man to see my failings. He was obviously a man who abhorred weakness. If I could just get my bearings, get this pounding to stop, I could show him my discipline, my control. He'd see I could be strong, be good.

I sank back on the floor. But later. Right now. I just needed to rest...

****

"Wake him up, Donnelly. Liam wants to question him." One familiar voice. Was it the one I 'blessed' or the other one?

"He's still out. You must have bashed him on his head when you dropped him on the floor, you lout. What do you want me to do?"

Oh, so it must have been Charlie, the 'blessed' one. I didn't know the second, Donnelly, although I recognized the name. Was he the one who dragged me...where ever I was. I kept quiet, kept my breathing even, so they wouldn't realize I could hear them. I was on my side, nearly rolled onto my stomach, so it was easy to keep still. I needed some time to figure out what was going on, where I was, before I was thrown in front of the viscount as they were suggesting would happen.

"Toss some water on him or something," Charlie suggested. I was seriously not liking Charlie already. Although based on events up until now, I suspected I wasn't going to like anyone here.

"Just let him sleep off the alcohol and bashed head for the night." Oh, Donnelly, thank you so much. "It's late anyway. Lord Ashton needs to take care of his brother first."

"Fine but if he yells about it, I'm telling him it was your idea, Donnelly."

A grunt was the only response as footsteps receded. I shifted slightly, realizing I was on a semi-hard surface. A hand startled me when it brushed over my cheek, and I let out a small squeak. I blinked rapidly. Now that he knew I was awake, I was sure he'd be dragging me from my rest.

My eyes still felt heavy, and I could barely focus on the blond man squatting next to me.

"Shhh, little one," the man whispered gently.

Little one? I wasn't that fucking little, damn it. Okay, so maybe next to him I was, but still...

"You got a good size bump on your head," he said, his fingers threading through my hair to brush over the swollen lump. If only he knew how it had really gotten there. His friend dropping me was the least of my problems. "And I'm sure you're still feeling the effects of all the alcohol you drank, even if you did relieve yourself of some of it all over Charlie," he chuckled.

I whimpered as he pressed a bit on the knot. "Sorry, just checking to make sure it hasn't gotten any bigger. I'll bring you a cold cloth to put on it and get you something to eat."

He rose abruptly, disappearing out of the tiny room, picking up the lamp by the door as he went. I heard the door click shut behind him, leaving me in darkness—which was actually fine with me. I liked the darkness. No one could see me breaking, falling apart, in the dark.

From the brief glance before Donnelly left, I could tell the space was small, maybe a spare servant's room. Squirming slightly, I could tell I was on a small cot that was barely off the ground, still it was a little more comfortable than the floor. A blanket was draped over me, and I pulled it tighter, making a cocoon around me like a shield as I pulled my arms against my chest, wanting to feel safe. I knew it was an illusion, yet closing my eyes and burying into the cot helped make the bigger world disappear. At least for a little while.

When I heard the lock in the door turning several minutes later, I feigned sleep. I didn't want to deal with anyone right now, and I hoped Donnelly would just leave if he thought I was asleep.

"Hey, little one," Donnelly urged me to rouse, but I ignored him. He waited a few moments before I heard him set something down. "Hmm, guess you fell back asleep."

I felt him close again, and his hand brushed wisps of my honey hair from my forehead. He huffed a heavy breath before standing and retreating out the door.

I waited quite a while before even thinking about moving. This time when I opened my eyes, I realized there was actually some dim light in the room. I shifted to my back to see a window, the moonlight shedding its glow into my tiny cell. I hadn't noticed it before after the brightness of the lamp left my eyes unadjusted to the dark.

The sliver of light was enough to see the edges of a tray on a wooden stool near the door, which now doubled as a table. I moved slowly, testing each muscle. Of course, the back of my head still throbbed, but I realized my neck was sore as well. Swallowing was painful, and my mouth was sour. I grimaced.

I lifted my hand to my neck, carefully searching. Fortunately, I found no evidence of Master's attempt to slice it open. A tender spot for sure, maybe a bruise and a small nick, but no scabbing cut. Thank the Gods.

I moved carefully to the end of the cot, trying not to rattle my brains too much more than they already had been. I gratefully picked up the mug of water, wanting to wash away the foul taste in my mouth. After a few sips, I nibbled on the crust of bread and cheese I'd been given. I only managed a few bites before my head started swimming again from sitting upright.

As Donnelly had indicated, he'd left small bowl with a rag and cool water. I wrung out the rag before placing it on the lump on the back of my head. I almost flopped back over even though knew that wouldn't be a pleasant sensation, so I levered myself slowly back down, drawing the blanket around me.

Curled up in the shadows, with no one to see, I let my control shatter. I wept silent tears into the musky blanket, hoarse sobs bubbled from my raw throat. Master was gone, my safe little window seat, the sanctity of the familiar. Master didn't want me anymore, his confidence in me lost—and now the one reason I'd stayed with him, the contract to my parents, was most certainly null and void. I'd failed mama and papa again. I'd failed to save Lord Rowland. I'd failed Tareth with my weakness.

Everything I'd known had changed. Again.

I broke.