She had to understand that every word out of my mouth was real.
London… no, Raven, she wasn’t London yet, sat back on her heels, but a fresh tear escaped her right eye and trailed a path down her cheek. A path because she was filthy and smelled like trash and required a shitload of soap.
I leaned back in my chair. “You’re good at following rules.” Well, she was now. She didn’t used to be. She had refused to sleep naked. “You just heard the first one. Repeat it to me.”
“Don’t touch you?” Her voice trembled and, if I’d been blind and didn’t know London was kneeling in front of me, I wouldn’t have recognized her.
“Good. Second rule, I ask you something, I want an answer.”
She nodded.
“No, repeat what I just said. I want no misunderstanding here.”
“Answer you.”
Good enough. The leather crackled as I leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees. “And you will never kneel or avoid looking at me again.”
Her breath quickened and her hands lying flat on her thighs twitched. She was debating what to do. Whether to get off her knees now or wait until I told her to. I needed her to think for herself. She was no longer a slave to do what she was told. She had to make her own decisions, even if she thought the consequences were bad.
Eventually, she’d learn the consequences would never be bad, unless she was Raven. This was what she understood—rules. And I’d use them to find London buried underneath Raven.
Her lips quivered and brows lowered as she contemplated.
I waited. Patient.
Then she put her hands on the floor and pushed up and stood. It took longer for her chin to rise and her eyes to meet mine. But she did it and the second she did, I saw the flash of fear over what would happen because she had made eye contact. Then her eyes went dead again.
I nodded with approval. She repeated my words, her eyes staring at me, but she wasn’t seeing. Not really. It was a mask. I’d done it myself when I had to take my mind away from the pain that was inflicted on me at the farm.
“Bathroom is over there.” I gestured to the left with my hand and she flinched. Jesus, that pissed me off. How many times had Alfonzo or Jacob raised their hand and hit her? “Go shower. There are clothes next to the sink. Come out to the kitchen when you’re done and eat something.”
I didn’t wait for a reply. She’d do everything I told her to.
I stood, brushed by her and left the room.
It had only been eight minutes since I left her before she was walking barefoot across my hardwood floors into the kitchen.
I stood facing the stove, stirring the vegetable beef soup in the cast iron pot, the steam and aroma rising up in front of me.
I refused to direct her on what to do. This was a learning curve for me, too. I was pretty fuckin’ sure her normal move would be to kneel on the floor, probably by the doorway. But my rule was blaring in her head.
I swear I heard her heart thumping hard against her chest a few feet behind me as she again had to decide what the next step was. For all I knew, she’d just stand there until I addressed her, but she’d have to wait a fuck of a long time. I’d make her stand there all night if I had to.
I ladled the soup into two bowls then carried them over to the bar stools at the island which was a mere inch from where she stood. The scent of the coconut and mango shampoo mixed with the soup.
I pulled out both seats then sat.
Ask me, London. Fuck.
It was a simple test. I knew she was watching me and from the corner of my eye, I saw her bite her lower lip and her eyes waver to the stool, to the bowl of soup, and back to me.
Take a risk, damn it. Be fuckin’ brave, baby.
Ten minutes. Ten fuckin’ minutes. I was on my second bowl of soup and hers was no longer steaming.
“May I eat, master?”
“Yes. You can help yourself to anything you want at any time.” And I didn’t like her calling me fuckin’ master. “You know my name—use it.”
She sat quietly at the island and ate the cold soup. I restrained myself from heating it up, but that was her fault it took her so fuckin’ long.
I never said I was nice.
She was cautious as she ate, and I couldn’t help imagining us in her kitchen together. A different arrangement. An entirely different girl.
I looked at Raven. I’d never fuck her.
I shoved back my stool, stood, then went and rinsed out my bowl in the sink, put the rest of the soup in a container and placed it in the fridge. I washed the pot then turned around and she was still sitting there, spoon resting against the lip of the bowl and her head down.