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“I...did not intend—” he began. He hesitated, knowing he could never apologize to a serf, and yet wanting her to know he regretted his actions. “It was not my intention to harm you.”
Her eyes focused on him again. “I know,” she said softly.
He nodded and continued along the corridor. She followed, her footsteps a little slower than before.
Ares knew curses so ancient that no human remembered them. He must... He would conquer this savagery within himself. As he would conquer Trinity—without ever again touching her against her will.
* * *
It had not gone quite as Trinity had expected.
Ares strode ahead of her without once looking back to make sure she followed. He wouldn’t have had to worry even if she hadn’t promised to go with him willingly. Getting to this point had been difficult enough, and she wasn’t going to ruin what she’d managed to achieve against all the odds.
She watched the play of Ares’s muscles under his clothes, the grace of his long stride, and marveled at her luck for the dozenth time. She never would have expected that her new master would ask her if she should be bound, as if she were free to make the decision. That he wouldn’t bite her after he’d won his Challenge, when she knew Opir custom demanded that he complete his claim. He’d only tasted her blood when he’d—
She probed at her lower lip and then at her throat. It felt as if Ares had never touched her. She couldn’t hate him for half choking her; it was as much her fault as his.
More her fault. She’d done it deliberately, as a kind of test, to see just how far she could push him. She’d discovered his limits the hard way.
Ares had simply acted out of sheer Nightsider instinct. Vicious, animal instinct that ran in all Opir blood like a poison. A poison she’d known must be hidden under the skin of the black-haired Nightsider, even when she had chosen him as the master she must win.
Walking obediently behind him, Trinity could still remember how she had felt when she had first met his gaze. She remembered her inexplicable emotions, the way her whole body had lit up inside like a Fourth of July sparkler even while he had been assessing her as he would a broodmare, his surprisingly light eyes taking her in with unnerving interest. Unnerving because there was no naked lust in his that gaze, not at first. Only remote curiosity.
Not like Palemon’s greedy stare, his undisguised hunger when he had forced her to strip and had seen only a female to service him, a human to break with casual cruelty.
Until that moment, she hadn’t been ashamed...not of her nudity or her vulnerability. She had always thought she was ready for anything that might occur during the Claiming.
But she hadn’t been prepared for Palemon. When he had begun to show interest in her, she had fully realized how much she could lose if the black-haired Nightsider didn’t choose to claim her. She could still feel the crack of Palemon’s hand against her face, sending her to the floor with the taste of blood in her mouth.
Trinity stumbled, though the floor of the corridor was smooth as glass. She knew now that she should have worked more diligently to appear submissive, even frightened—the kind of serf that would bore a creature like Palemon. But when she’d seen Ares’s interest, she knew that ploy wouldn’t work with him. She needed to arouse more than his lust; she had to intrigue him, engage his intellect and admiration as well as his desire.
But she’d also have to “negotiate” with that dark, animal side. The side that had reacted so violently to the touch of a human hand.
Yet his hand had caressed her so gently afterward, and she’d felt his regret. “Sentimental,” Palemon had said. Ares had come as close to an apology as any Opir could.
Trinity smiled grimly as she put one foot in front of the other, careful of her strangely uncertain balance. Most humans believed that Nightsiders couldn’t experience emotions that weren’t directly related to survival or protecting their status in the Citadel. Perhaps it would be easier to manipulate Ares than she’d had any right to hope.
But she knew she’d be lying to herself if she denied her own loss of emotional discipline. And it wasn’t getting any better with time. She was reminded of her unwilling attraction every instant she was in Ares’s presence. He smelled not of blood but of wholly masculine scents she couldn’t quite name. His uncommon black hair, drawn into a simple queue at the back of his head, framed his starkly handsome face like raven’s wings, making her ache with the need to bury her fingers in it. His nearly human eyes had an almost metallic sheen that reminded her of a dagger’s blade, yet she could imagine she saw warmth in them.
And his body... Under his loose clothes his physique had been a mystery, but once he had removed his shirt she had seen a chest, shoulders and arms hard with muscle and honed for battle. She remembered how powerful he had been, how graceful and deadly his every move as he’d fought for her.
She could so easily imagine herself in those strong arms, her nails raking his back as he entered her, as she cried out in pleasure and...
A sudden wave of nausea made her stumble again, and she fell against the nearest wall. Ares stopped immediately and turned to grasp her arm.
“You are ill,” he said.
That was concern she heard in his voice, though his speech was harsh and clipped. He caught her chin in his hand and tilted her face to his.
“Are you still in pain?” he demanded. He brushed her lips with the pad of his thumb, and she shivered violently.
Ares scooped her up into his arms. Hovering on the edge of consciousness, Trinity only became aware of her surroundings again when she heard the hum of the elevator hurtling upward into the highest levels of the Citadel. Ares had set her on her feet, but his arm around her shoulders prevented her from falling.
She breathed in his scent, her cheek resting against the velvety fabric of his tunic, aware of the slow thump of his heartbeat. The elevator came to a smooth stop, and Ares held her tighter against him.
“Can you walk?” he asked.
Bracing herself against the wall, she pulled away from him. “Yes,” she said. “I...don’t know what happened.”
He frowned. “I will have my human physician examine you.”
“Please,” she said. “I’m all right. I...I’m grateful for all you’ve done.”
“You will be given every opportunity to display your gratitude.”
And she was ready to show it, to play the part, to become whatever Ares wanted her to be.
Play the part, she thought. Nothing more....
The elevator door opened onto a grand lobby faced with black marble and punctuated with alabaster busts of presumably important Opiri, each one a stylized depiction carved of planes and angles that she guessed were representatives of Nightsider “art.” Ares urged her down the hall to another set of elevators—three this time, each one marked with an Opir name and an emblem that represented the Household of the Bloodlord to whom it belonged.
Ares helped her into the one identified with the design of a Corinthian helmet. Its interior was padded and gilded like something out of a grand nineteenth-century hotel. It began to rise without any move on Ares’s part and opened to yet another lobby. But this one was not decorated with busts, and it wasn’t empty.
Three humans, two men and a woman—all dressed in deep blue tunics and pants belted with tooled leather—were waiting as if they had expected their master’s arrival. The younger man was missing one eye, and the elder was scarred across the face but standing foursquare against the pull of his years. The woman was middle-aged with a round, pleasant face.
The three serfs bowed, and the scarred man offered a large silver goblet of liquid as fresh and red as the petals of a newly opened rose. Ares accepted the cup and sipped, barely wetting his lips, and then returned it.
Neither of the men paid any visible attention to Trinity, but she could feel them observing her out of the corners of their eyes. She took the opportunity to study them, wondering if any of the three might be connected to the Underground. There was no guarantee that a member of the Underground lived within this Household, but it was her task to find out as quickly as possible.
After introducing Trinity, Ares glanced at the older woman. “Elizabeth, she is unwell,” he said. “Take her to Levi and see that she is cared for. Send Abbie to find suitable clothes.”
“Yes, my lord,” Elizabeth said, bowing again.
“Diego,” he said to the man with the cup, “I will have your report in two hours.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Jonathan,” Ares said, turning to the scarred man. “Ask Cassandra to attend me in my rooms.”
The serf responded with a bow, and all three retreated, Elizabeth supporting Trinity toward a door at the end of the hall. Trinity balked, looking over her shoulder at Ares. He looked back at her, his light eyes unreadable, and disappeared through the double doors.
“Do you need more assistance?” the middle-aged woman asked in a gentle voice.
“I’m all right,” Trinity said, touching her pounding temples. “I’m just a little dizzy, and I have a headache. If you have any pain relievers...”
“Of course,” Elizabeth said with a slight smile. “The Opiri don’t need them, of course, but we do.”
“Who were those men?” Trinity asked as they reached the door.
“Two of the senior serfs. Diego—the young gentleman—is the majordomo of the Household, and Jonathan is the Master of Serfs.”
“Wouldn’t those jobs usually go to vassals?”
“Ares hasn’t any vassals,” she said.
Surprised at Ares’s flouting of Opir custom, Trinity raised a brow. “And what are your duties in the Household?” she asked.
“I guess you could say I look after the women’s matters. You’ve been through a lot today, and there’ll be plenty of time to learn after—”
She didn’t finish, but Trinity knew what she meant. After Ares had done what he’d failed to do at the Claiming. After she’d shared his bed, and he had marked her as his.
No emotion, she reminded herself. No fear, no desire, no admiration. Nothing existed but the mission.
And that mission had well and truly begun.
Chapter 4
They descended a staircase to what Elizabeth referred to as the serf’s quarters and entered a brightly lit corridor. “This is where we live and where Household operations are located,” the older woman said. “Everything above belongs to the Opiri—Ares and his few Freeblood clients.”
Casing the layout of the Household was one of the first things Trinity needed to do. “Is there another way up the tower besides the elevator?” she asked.
Elizabeth threw her an amused glance. “There’s a staircase off the other side of the lobby, but we prefer to avoid climbing all those steps.”
“How big is this place?”
“Ares shares this tower with two other Bloodmasters,” Elizabeth said, tightening her grip on Trinity’s arm. “Are you able to walk?”
“I’m all right,” Trinity said, though she hadn’t been faking either her dizziness or sudden exhaustion. Where had it come from? She knew it wasn’t just because she’d had a rough couple of days—she had far more stamina than any normal human.
Could it have been because Ares had drawn a tiny bit of her blood when he’d kissed her? Could he have done something to her in spite of her injections?
“You’ll soon learn your way around,” Elizabeth said, oblivious to her thoughts. “Right now I’m taking you to Levi, our physician.”
“The serfs’ doctor?”
“Naturally. There are no Opiri physicians.”
Of course not, Trinity thought. Certain diseases were unique to Nightsiders, however rare, but their injuries from Challenge or accident either healed on their own or killed the Nightsider, and Opiri had no sympathy for the weak among their kind.
“I heard that Ares hasn’t claimed a serf in quite a long time,” she said.
“That’s right. I heard he actually Challenged for you.” Elizabeth hesitated. “In all the time I’ve been here, he’s never done that. He despises Challenges.”
“He seemed to like my ‘spirit,’” Trinity said with a brief laugh.
“You are quite beautiful,” Elizabeth said. “But physical beauty has never seemed to matter to him when it comes to serfs. In fact, he has a tendency to pick up the ones no one else wants, as you might have noticed with Diego and Jonathan.” She came to a stop in front of one of the many doors along the corridor, her expression relaxing. “Here we are.”
The door slid open, and they entered a large, pristine infirmary. A man in his forties with neatly cropped salt-and-pepper hair sat behind a desk situated on one side of the room, his gaze fixed on a monitor. He rose quickly, gazing at Trinity with distracted surprise.
Once Elizabeth explained the situation, Levi put her through the paces of a typical physical exam and declared her suffering from exhaustion.
“She needs to rest,” he said to Elizabeth. “What can Ares have been thinking?”
“He brought her back himself,” the older woman said. “What does that suggest to you?”
Levi gave Trinity a second, far less professionally detached look. “Is he tired of Cassandra?” he asked.
“I’m sitting right here,” Trinity said. “We may be slaves, but I refuse to become an object to be discussed like an expensive piece of jewelry.”
Levi and Elizabeth exchanged knowing glances. “I can’t believe that pure lust would be enough,” Levi said. “There must be something special for her to be treated like—”
“I was under the impression that he treats all his serfs well,” Trinity interrupted.
“He’s always been a good master,” Elizabeth said. “We need to get her into bed, Levi. Abbie will be coming to measure her when she’s rested.”
“And then Ares is going to send for me, isn’t he?” Trinity asked.
“When you were brought here, you must have known what to expect,” Levi said, not quite meeting her gaze.
“I didn’t deserve to be sent here at all,” Trinity said, injecting resentment into her voice. “Why were you deported?”
“We don’t speak of such things in this Household,” Elizabeth said with a pained smile. “Unless you want to offend your fellow humans, and no one wants to be alone among enemies.”
Interesting, Trinity thought, that Elizabeth would come right out and say the word “enemy.” It was something a member of the Underground might say, especially if she’d forgotten she couldn’t trust everyone around her.
“Come along now,” Levi said, taking one of Trinity’s arms as Elizabeth took the other. They half carried her to a bed and helped her climb onto it. “I think we’ll give you an IV drip. You look more than a little dehydrated.”
Trinity didn’t object, and soon she was resting comfortably while Levi worked away at his desk. She badly wanted to jump out of bed and take a good look at the serfs’ area of the Household, check out every possible exit and search for likely hiding places.
But all too soon a very tall young woman, who introduced herself as Abbie, arrived with Elizabeth and walked around the bed, cocking her head as she studied Trinity from all angles.
“Very promising,” she said. “When does Ares want her?”
“He only said to let him know when she was feeling better,” Elizabeth said, talking over Trinity the way she had before.
“I’ll put together something simple for now,” Abbie said. “I know just the thing...”
“Do you always talk about new serfs as if they were animals?” Trinity said, looking at each of the three in turn. “Or is this your way of making your lives more bearable?”
Abbie looked at her blankly, and then blinked as if she had snapped out of a dream. “I’m sorry,” she said, her long face crumpling in remorse.
“Sometimes we forget the things we most need to remember,” Elizabeth said. “You’re handling this better than anyone I’ve ever met.”
Trinity wondered if she could pry a little more information out of Elizabeth. “Earlier, you mentioned that Ares seemed to be acting out of character....”
“I made too much of it,” Elizabeth said, flushing a little. “I meant it when I said he was a good master. He very seldom interferes with the running of the Household.”
“He never gets angry, almost never even impatient,” Abbie said, jotting a note in the pad she kept in her wide front pocket. “He’s never sold any of us or given us away as gifts to other Opiri.”
