Читать книгу Nightmaster - Susan Krinard - Страница 11

Chapter 5

Trinity struggled to contain her sudden rush of desire, the moist heat between her thighs, the pounding of her heart.

She kept her face averted, praying Ares couldn’t detect her inner thoughts. It seemed impossible that she should welcome his touch, especially because such feelings on her part went well beyond the scope of her mission.

Still, she couldn’t keep pretending these feelings didn’t exist. Fighting them would only expend energy she couldn’t afford to waste.

And she needed him to trust her, to talk with her, to allow her freedom in the Household. When she “surrendered” to Ares, her attraction would seem all the more genuine. She’d be able to concentrate on the work that was of the utmost importance.

She met his gaze. “I will be honored to serve you in any way, my lord,” she said.

“Will you? Even after what I did to you?”

He meant the kiss, she thought. As if he still felt badly about it. Even guilty.

Surely that wasn’t possible.

“What must I do to prove myself?” she asked.

With a sharp, almost clumsy motion, he turned away. “Have you eaten?”

“I was told a tray would be brought here for me.”

“And clothing?”

“The same.”

“Then I will leave you.” He walked out the door with a single, smoldering glance over his shoulder.

Trinity’s mouth was dry, and her breath seemed to burn in her lungs. She quickly found the shower and removed her shift, intensely aware of her body, even more so than when Palemon had forced her to strip. Her breasts were tender, her nipples hard, her legs trembling.

She turned on the water, adjusting it to the coldest setting. But as soon as she began to lather her body with the sweet-smelling liquid in the dispenser, her imagination began to kick into overdrive. She felt hands caressing her breasts, teasing her nipples, working the soap into her stomach and lower regions. She felt the hand slip between her thighs, sliding into her natural wetness.

Ares’s hands. And his lips grazing her neck. His teeth...

Trinity half stumbled out of the shower and snatched at the towel hanging from a rack set into the wall. She rubbed herself furiously, removing every last drop of moisture from her body. Then she dragged on her shift and sat on the bed, closing her eyes and focusing on regaining her equilibrium.

When a young serf knocked on her door to deliver a tray of fresh, fragrant food, Trinity ate it as if she had an appetite. Soon afterward, Abbie arrived with a gown: a simple, floor-length, amethyst silk slit to the thigh and cut low in the neckline, though not as low as Cassandra’s. Trinity allowed the tailor to help her put it on. There were no undergarments to mar the clean lines of the gown or disturb the liquid caress of the silk gliding over her skin.

Elizabeth arrived just as Abbie was leaving. The two women exchanged a few brief words in the hall, and then the older woman came into the room. She looked Trinity over with obvious appreciation.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said. “Abbie has outdone herself this time....” She hesitated. “Are you all right, Trinity?”

“I’m fine,” she said with a look of carefully constructed tranquility. “I’m ready.”

Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m afraid we really haven’t been of much help to you,” she said slowly. “But I want to make sure you aren’t afraid of Ares. When I was quite a bit younger, I belonged to another Bloodmaster. It was not a pleasant experience. When I had grown too old to interest him, he offered me for open Claiming.” She released a breath. “It’s usually reserved for cast-off serfs, and most are only valuable for increasing the number of an Opir’s staff, and his or her prestige.”

“What happened to you?” Trinity asked.

“After the Bloodlords and Bloodmasters have chosen all those serfs that interest them and paid their former owners the pittance they are worth, the rest are available to Houseless Freebloods. You understand what Freebloods are?”

“Former vassals converted into full Opiri.”

“Made free to build their own destinies,” Elizabeth said. “Some become clients either to their own Sires or other Bloodlords. But they can also choose to fight their way up the ladder and form their own Households. For them, acquiring serfs is not a simple matter of bidding. They fight for their property, and many die.” She sighed. “Two very nasty Freebloods were fighting over me when Ares stepped in and claimed me. I have been here ever since.”

“So he saved you. What would have happened if he hadn’t?”

“Freebloods live on the edge. A serf’s life under such circumstances is fragile. And often short. Now I have a comfortable home where I can be useful. And I’m not alone.”

“Thank you for telling me this,” Trinity said.

“No need to thank me.” Elizabeth rose again, her eyes crinkling as she smiled. “I’m just saying that even if Ares doesn’t keep you with him, you’ll have a comfortable life. Cassandra deliberately sets herself apart from the rest of us. It won’t be that way with you.”

“No,” Trinity said. “It won’t.” Suddenly self-conscious, she smoothed the silk over her thighs. “When do I—”

As if in answer to her unfinished question, the serf she’d seen with Ares in the Claiming room entered the infirmary. Daniel, she remembered Ares calling him—a young man of medium height, with sandy hair and light blue eyes. “Good afternoon,” he said, the words as flat as his expression.

“Is it afternoon?” Trinity asked, glancing up at the ceiling as if she might see the sky.

“We keep clocks in the Household to remind us and help us keep to our routines.” He looked her over appraisingly. “Are you ready? Ares said he’d wait if you needed more time.”

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” she said. “But I’m not afraid.”

Daniel’s eyes warmed slightly. “Ares chose you for more than just your looks.” He gestured toward the door. “Come with me.”

Keenly aware of her naked skin under the gown, Trinity followed Daniel through another series of corridors to a curved staircase ascending to the main floor. At the top of the stairs, a plain door opened onto a hall that could have been the throne room of a palace, elegant and imposing.

Daniel escorted Trinity between stately Grecian columns to a set of double doors. Behind the doors was an antechamber, one wall decorated in the style of ancient Athenian vase paintings. Yet another door, carved with images of ancient warriors in battle, stood at the end.

Daniel touched a panel to the right of the door. Beyond was a room unlike anything Trinity had ever seen. It stretched out in a vast semicircle, a huge, shuttered window taking up half of the curved wall at the back. The floor was strewn with embroidered cushions, and couches from many historical periods were scattered in groups around the room.

On the other half of the back wall hung nearly a dozen paintings, some of which Trinity recognized as well-known masterpieces lost in the War. Sculptures, most in the Greek and Roman style, stood on stands or in wall niches, interspersed with several shelves of old-fashioned books.

“Philosopher,” Palemon had called Ares. But what kind of philosopher? How much of this was for show to his fellow Nightsiders? “The Great Room,” Daniel said, unaware of her musings. He pointed to an arched entryway to the left. “That door leads to the harem chambers, unoccupied at the moment. That door—” he swept his hand toward the opposite side of the room “—leads to Ares’s personal suite. Cassandra lives in rooms adjoining his, but with a separate entrance from the antechamber.”

“I was told she’s been his Favorite for three years,” Trinity said, feeling breathless.

“Yes,” Daniel said, his face turning cold. “Perhaps she won’t retain her place for long.”

He doesn’t like Cassandra, Trinity thought. “Does Ares intend to make me his Favorite?” she asked.

“That’s not for me to know. He has seemed content with Cassandra, taking her blood about once a day.” He met her gaze. “If you feel any gratitude toward him, encourage him to take yours.”

“I am grateful,” she said. “Did he save you, too?”

Daniel look startled, as if she’d read his mind. “That’s unimportant,” he said, gesturing toward the door to Ares’s suite. “Go right in. The master’s waiting.”

He retreated through the doors to the antechamber, leaving Trinity alone. She hesitated, staring at the door to the suite. This was not the time to lose her nerve. She was where she needed to be.

Lifting her head, she walked to the door. She caught Ares’s scent, clean and masculine, but the room she entered was empty.

Once again she paused to get her bearings. His suite was just as comfortably appointed as the Great Room, if a little less elaborate in decoration. It had three interior doors, and one was open. More bookshelves lined the walls. A large desk stood to one side of the room, with a computer monitor facing a padded leather chair. A seventeenth-century map of the world hung behind it, and the dark wood and furnishings made it feel like a Victorian gentleman’s office, his private domain in a world run by servants and women.

All so very “human,” Trinity thought.

She looked to see if anyone was watching and went to the desk. The computer wasn’t on, and Trinity assumed it was seldom used. The internet was a thing of the past, at least in a worldwide sense, but both humans and Opiri still kept electronic data and records. If she could get into those records in Erebus...

“Trinity.”

A chill slid down Trinity’s spine. Ares hadn’t seen her yet, but he didn’t have to. Just as she hadn’t needed to see him to know he was there. Like her, he had other heightened senses at his command.

“I’m here,” she said.

“Come in.”

She followed the sound of his voice through the door farthest to the right. The first thing she saw was the bed, easily large enough to accommodate four people, heaped with pillows and covered with a spread embroidered with a nearly perfect reproduction of the famous Bayeux tapestry. A huge Persian carpet stretched across the floor.

The rest of the room was surprisingly spartan. Ares sat in a chair to the right of the bed, next to a small table set with a plate of delicacies, two glasses and a bottle of wine.

Wine was almost impossible to get in the Enclave. The Nightsiders had taken over most of the vineyards, and living on blood didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy some human food and drink.

For a moment, Trinity felt only anger and disgust for what Ares’s kind had stolen from humanity. She stopped just inside the door, and his gaze swept over her with seeming indifference.

“Abbie should not have dressed you this way,” he said in the Opir language. “I brought you here to talk, not to serve me in bed.”

Trinity had thought she was ready. But now, enduring his intense inspection, she found herself trembling.

And oddly disappointed.

“Are you afraid?” Ares asked, his voice almost gentle.

“Do I look afraid?” she asked in the same language.

“That’s better,” Ares said with a slight smile. He gestured to the thickly upholstered chair on the other side of the table. “Sit.”

She glided toward him, lifting her skirts to lengthen her stride. She took the chair, feeling the silk tighten across her breasts and thighs. Ares seemed not to notice as he filled both glasses with wine.

“A very good year,” he remarked, offering her one of the goblets. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Can I refuse?”

“You have that choice,” he said. He sipped from his glass, and then set it down. “For the time being, I want to know more about my newly acquired property.”

“Wouldn’t you prefer to start by tasting it? Isn’t that why I’m here?”

He leaned back, steepling his fingers under his chin. “What did you do in the Enclave? You speak our language fluently, and you apparently know some history. Tell me.”

Trinity could hardly believe he was genuinely interested in hearing about her work or her past. In fact, her background story was not entirely concocted. She had studied languages and history as her specialty at the Academy, and she was grateful she wouldn’t have to fake it.

“I was one of the lucky citizens to be chosen for an advanced education,” she said quietly. “I learned ancient Greek, Latin and modern languages. And Opir, of course.”

“As I see. You have very little accent. Our tongue is not easy to master.”

“Because it’s a mishmash of ancient languages,” she said, leaning toward him. “Greek, Latin, Babylonian and various ancient Indo-European languages we have yet to decipher.”

“A mishmash,” he said drily. “I am certain our own experts in human languages would find that description less than amusing, especially because they believe all ancient human languages derive from ours.”

She held his gaze. “Did I offend you?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want your opinion.”

“Why would the opinion of a serf matter to you?”

He smiled slightly, and she felt a deeper stirring of interest that went well beyond helpless sexual attraction. He was treating her almost as an equal, and she doubted that this was his ordinary way of dealing with new serfs.

“You intrigue me,” he said. “You’re clearly intelligent, and your spirit has not been broken by your deportation from your city.”

“And so that’s the reason I’m here. That and your interest in the human perspective. But on what?”

He nodded at her glass of wine. “Drink.”

Reluctantly she picked up her goblet and sipped. The wine, as expected, was glorious.

“I don’t suppose you share your wine with your serfs as a rule,” she said, setting the glass down again.

“Not as a rule.” He stared intently into her eyes. “What crime did you commit to be sent here?”

She hesitated, as if it were a painful memory. “I didn’t pay my taxes.”

“Such a small thing,” he said.

“They’re finding it more and more difficult to gather criminals to send to you as serfs, and they don’t want to break the Treaty.”

Ares was silent for a while, perhaps brooding over her insolent behavior. But he didn’t chastise her. To the contrary, he appeared more intrigued than ever.

“And why weren’t you able to find a protector to clear you of these charges?” he asked. “You are a beautiful woman. Surely some powerful male would have been prepared to spare you exile in return for—”

“Is that what you think of human women?” she interrupted. “That we give ourselves to men so they’ll protect us from the consequences of our actions?”

“Trinity,” Ares said in a soft voice. “Do not speak to me in that manner again.”

All at once, without warning, he was master and she his slave, utterly subject to his will. She was reminded that, in spite of his mild manner now, taking liberties with him too quickly might result in her being punished, or even sent away.

Or perhaps it would arouse his sexual interest again. The kind that had gripped him—and her—just after the Claiming.

“I’m...I’m sorry, my lord,” she said meekly.

He picked up his glass and set it down again without tasting the contents. “I warned you before that you should consider the consequences of your behavior, Trinity. In Erebus, those consequences can be much worse than mere exile.”

“I know,” she said. “But if you’ll allow me to explain...”

When he waved his hand to grant her permission, she continued more carefully. “The women of the Enclave aren’t like that,” she said. “Most would never think of seeking that kind of protection from a man. All people, regardless of gender, are equal.”

“But it was not always so,” he said, relaxing again. “I remember. Among my kind—through all the ages—there has never been any significant distinction between male and female Opiri in terms of power or status. You’ve come far since the days when you were merely the extensions of your mates.”

“That’s right,” Trinity said. “But I don’t understand why you don’t already know this, my lord. Opiri faced plenty of female soldiers during the War.”

“Yes,” he said. “I was merely interested in your experiences.” He smiled slightly. “I can imagine you as a soldier.”

Trinity tried not to let him see her alarm. “I’m not brave enough for that.”

Ares leaned over the table and touched her cheek. “I think you are. But that is of no consequence now. That life is over.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think you’ll find it displeasing,” he said, stroking her face.

“I’m ready.”

He jerked his hand back. “You speak as though you must brace yourself for some unspeakable torment.”

Now that she had reached the crucial moment, Trinity lost her resolve to acquiesce so easily. “I owe you so much, my lord,” she murmured.

Ares bolted from his chair. “I don’t want your gratitude,” he said. “I want—”

He broke off, and Trinity held very still, aware that he had begun to lose his grip on the calm and rationality he seemed to value so highly. He strode to the other side of the bed and punched his finger on a keypad set in the wall. Wide shutters slid open, revealing another window.

“Come here,” he said.

Trinity rose and joined him. She looked out the window. The dome of the city curved below—smoky-gray rather than black from this angle—shielding Erebus from the sun.

Beyond the dome and the towers on the opposite side of the Citadel stretched the muted sky, the fields and the mountains, robbed of their color and vividness by the protective glass. Ares touched the keypad again, and suddenly they were looking directly into the interior of the city, thousands of roofs and open plazas and strange gardens under artificial lights. It was frighteningly beautiful.

“Nothing can touch you in this city,” he said. “No one can harm you. Not as long as you belong to me.” He turned to look at her. “And I intend to keep you, Trinity. Make no mistake.”

He pressed on the pad, closing the panel, and then returned to the table, slopping more wine into the glass.

“I will know everything about you,” he said, capturing her gaze. “Your mind, your soul, your body. You will never hold any secrets from me. But when you come to me, you will do it because you wish to.”

Trinity realized how vulnerable Ares had just made himself, vulnerable in a way that was almost human. She felt an uncertainty in him, bewilderment that he should treat any serf as he treated her...as if she mattered to him as a woman, not merely a slave. “I wish it now, my lord,” she whispered. And she did. More than was practical. Or sane.

“No,” he said, dropping into his chair. “You will sleep in the harem quarters tonight.”

It wasn’t going to work. Not now, not for Ares. For some reason he was holding himself back. She bowed and retreated.

“Trinity,” he said, stopping her as she moved to the door.

“Yes, my lord?”

“My name is Ares. You may use it when we are alone.”

“Thank you...Ares,” she said, bowing her head.

He made a sound very like a snort. “I told you before that such humility doesn’t suit you. Don’t play games with me. You can’t win.” He caressed the stem of his wineglass. “I do want to know your thoughts, Trinity. Your true and honest thoughts. I have had long experience with humanity. I walked the earth while most of my kind slept under it. But now I require a human of the Enclave to share her views and understanding of our people, and to explain her world to me.”

“Why?” she asked. “I will never give you information you could use against the Enclave, even if I’d ever had access to it.”

“I have no interest in acting against the Enclave. My life is as I wish it to be, and any disruption such as a new war would only disturb it.”

“An excellent reason for opposing the deaths of thousands of humans and Opiri.”

“Trinity—”

“Forgive me, my lord. I’m sorry for speaking out of turn.”

Suddenly he was on his feet again and striding toward her, and it was all she could do to hold her ground. He loomed over her, staring down at her like a hungry panther.

“Do not mock my liberality,” he said, his voice a deep rumble. “I can withdraw it in an instant. I can still take from you whatever I wish.”

“What I offered already,” she said, tipping her head back to give him easy access to her throat.

He leaned toward her, and she could feel his warm breath fanning over her flesh. Once again she imagined his teeth grazing her neck, puncturing her skin on that big bed, while he...

Oh, God, she thought. She couldn’t let it happen. No matter how decent, how reasonable...how sexually attractive and potent he was to her. She couldn’t let herself feel.

“Go,” he said, stepping back as if he didn’t trust himself any more than she did her own mind and body.

Stumbling out of the room, Trinity half ran through the office and into the Great Room. His abrupt dismissal didn’t matter. He wanted to probe her mind and absorb her knowledge—though she didn’t trust his reasons in the slightest—and was clearly fighting his own desire to take her. He’d given her a kind of power over him she could use to her own advantage.

She would learn everything she could about the workings of the Household. She would make friends of even the lowliest serfs. She would use any method necessary to find members of the Underground in Ares’s Household and contact those outside it.

And she’d become invaluable to Ares. So indispensable, so trustworthy and useful that she’d make it impossible for him to resist her.

He’s only the means to an end, she reminded herself. And she was a soldier of the Enclave who hated everything he stood for.

And always would.