The Captain’s Slave part 5

SEVEN

I’m blanketed by muscle as I lay in the master’s arms. I find it hard to breathe. The proximity to him is…exhilarating. Part of me fears him, but I suspect my heart is racing for reasons other than intimidation. I never pictured that the gods could build men like this, and yet here I am. Carried by a perfectly sculpted male. Embraced by a man for the first time in my long, exhausting life.

His footsteps are impossibly light. Barely audible even with his added weight. I realize that I’ve only heard his footsteps before because he wanted me to. Because he allowed it. Like a predator snapping branches for its prey to hear.

This master controls my very existence. All the stimulus around me is determined by him. And the worst part is that I don’t have control over what happens inside me, either. I’m too curious about him, too invested in what’s coming next.

I should be doing my job; serving my punishment. I will be a slave for the rest of my days—even if he insists that I’m free.

I deserve my chains.

Malik enters the washroom and sets me down. “Strip,” he says, reaching for a bucket to pour water into the tub.

I do so without hesitation. A sinister feeling creeps into my heart. The same one I felt when he was in the tub and I was sponging his nude body. The feeling that appears when I’m in these vulnerable situations with him.

I want him to make a move and make me fear him. Make me feel uncomfortable. I want him to prove me right. Show me that he’s like any other master.

That way, I can hate him as much as I hated my previous slaver. Life is much easier that way, when I don’t have to address new feelings because all I have to offer is hate.

My bloody clothes fall at my feet. Malik stikes a lantern on, and I seek darkness in his expression. But the male doesn’t even look beneath my shoulders. He’s disinterested in proving me right.

I go to the tub and sit in it with my arms hugging my legs, preparing for the cold water.

The stream comes gently, rolling over my body and pooling blood beneath me. I stare at the stark color. Although I’m no stranger to cold baths, the water feels freezing as red surrounds me. The ghoulish color is like the red ink that binds me in a contract with this Malik.

He killed a soul for me. He saved me.

The buckets of cold water keep coming until the red water becomes a pale pink. Malik is still giant as he kneels beside me. Even as he gently pours water over my shoulders, he is a force to be reckoned with.

He lowers the bucket and pauses for a second. I close my eyes, completely vulnerable.

They snap open when I feel something drag down my back. He’s scrubbing my skin. Just like I did for him.

He is much more heavy-handed than me, although I’m not sure he realizes his strength.

The master scrubs my back clean, straying to my arms and legs. But he never tries to reach my chest. He uses the same sponge I used on him—and it’s the most intimacy I’ve ever shared with a male. He’s mixing our essences together. A master and a slaver indirectly entwining.

It feels like I’m doing something wrong. I’ve never been taken care of by an owner. All my energy has been devoted to serving them. But now I have a powerful male kneeling for me, bathing me. There’s no warmth in the water, petals or oils, but I can tell Malik doesn’t do this for just anyone. He has obscured his nature for me.

I don’t know how to feel about this.

Long, thick, calloused fingers work into my hair. Massaging soap into it and lathering. They tangle into my hair, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing. His hair is cropped short, so I’m sure this is his first time tending to long locks.

And yet he tries. He scrubs my scalp, knotting the hair, but his intention is not lost to me. He’s trying to provide something. Comfort? Ease? I don’t know.

“Can you finish this?” He asks, slowly pulling his fingers free.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Good. Stay here for a few minutes while I bury the body, and choose a new bedroom to rest in.”

I cringe, hugging my arms tighter around my legs. He’s speaking as if burying a man is an everyday occurrence. As if we’re discussing what to buy from the market.

Where the fuck did he come from?

“I came from a military camp. I was a soldier for years.”

I’m horrified to realize that I spoke out my thoughts.

“Did you choose a name yet?” He asks, rising from his kneeled position and dropping the sponge in the water.

“Yes. I want—I want to be named Joanna,” I reply.

It’s the name of a beautiful flower.

“No,” comes Malik’s hard voice. “Choose another one.”

Why? Why can’t I be allowed this name? It’s not a number.

(A/N: the name is too similar to Joan’s name, and Malik wants it to be unique)

Malik leaves, leaving me with his orders. He returns to the guest room, and I hear him drag a body across the hardwood floors in the nearest hallway. He’s probably leaving a smear of blood for me to clean tomorrow.

The spell will break as soon as I exit this washroom.

READ PART 6>

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A/N: Coming soon! please welcome the latest enemies to lovers werewolf⤵️

Swapped: An Enemies to Lovers Werewolf Romance

ALPHA THORNE despises his mate. He met her a month ago and she has already shown her greed, her unfaithfulness, and her cruelty. He will never love the evil woman, but keeps her by his side because she cannot be denied her goddess-given title of Luna.

When she gets in an accident, he wishes her dead. Little does he know that the moon goddess heard his prayers and made them come true.

MAEVE is human and dying of terminal cancer. As she draws her final breath, she expects to find peaceful darkness. Instead, she lands in a healthy werewolf’s body. But not just any werewolf. She’s a pack Luna.

Maeve has been given a new chance at life. A healthy body and a wealthy position. But she takes one glance at her leering Alpha and mate who looks ready to tear her apart, and wonders if she was better off dying from cancer.

She wants to run away from the cold man, but she’s in an entirely new continent. With no knowledge of the werewolf world, she’s forced to live with a mate who despises her for unknown reasons.

Maeve’s only option is to try and melt the ice in his heart, but this is proven a challenge because he thinks she’s still the evil woman that once owned Maeve’s body.