The Captain's Slave part 4

SEVEN

I stare at the back of Malik's towel as I follow him. It swings dangerously fast. One wrong step, and it will slip off his hips.

He leads me to a section of the house that's typically restricted because it hosts guest rooms. Here, the finest furniture and linens are kept. There is even a chandelier that Gusto always feared we would steal piece by piece.

"Choose a room," Malik orders, standing in front of three doors.

I lower my head. For the first time since I met him, it's not because I fear him. It's because I fear my stare setting that towel on fire.

"Where…where are you staying, sir?"

"Outside," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest, leaving his towel at the mercy of gravity.

His answer startles me. Outside? The man has just returned home and wants to sleep on the dirt?

I don't understand Malik, but how could I? I don't know where he came from or where he is going. The only clear thing is that he came from the wild. A man like that cannot be domesticated.

I point to the smallest guest room with a crooked, unsure finger. I feel ashamed because I know that I don't belong in this section of the house. Gusto would strangle me if he found me here. He might even beat me with his precious chandelier–with Malik's precious chandelier.

"Did you choose a name?" Malik asks.

A name. I've been Seven for so long that I rarely think of my birth name anymore. I don't want to use it anymore, though. That part of my life ended long ago.

"No. Not yet."

"Choose a name by tomorrow. I will have breakfast at first light. Your previous slaver must only be fed leftovers."

"What will you do to Gusto?"

"Do not concern yourself with that."

He walks away, as mysterious as when he entered my life. 

I stare at the door for a long time before I enter the guest room. There are no chains in sight. No slave has ever slept here before.

I run my fingers over the smooth, silky covers and head for the window. I light the lantern on the bedside table and peel the curtains back, meekly peeking outside as my heart races.

There's no sign of Malik yet, but I see his beast resting by the porch. A makeshift tent, large enough to fit one person, is perched outside.

This is so strange. Malik could be sleeping like a king on a luxurious bed. Why would he prefer the cold night air, biting bugs, and hard ground while his slave rests in a comfortable bed inside his home?

He's not making any power moves after securing his land. It makes no sense.

I flinch when he steps outside a few minutes later, wearing new hide pants and a top. He scans the horizon for a few seconds, inhaling deeply. Then he walks over to his beast and feeds him something. He pets the animal gently, and I don't dare to blink.

I don't trust the man as far as I can throw him, and that's saying a lot, considering he's twice my size. But this glimpse of his nature gives me some ease because it proves he's capable of kindness.

Malik picks up his sword, resting against a porch pillar. He approaches the animal and lifts the sword. My heart drops to my stomach.

He swings, magnificently maneuvering the blade in the thin air. Swinging so fiercely that I'm amazed he doesn't cut his own arm off. He's so skilled that even I can recognize he has some military experience.

At first, I think he's training, but then I notice small burst of light and realize he's killing the bugs with his blade.

He's amazing.

He stops mid-swing, the lower half of his face covered by his mighty bicep. He's facing me. 

He's looking right at me.

I jump away from the window, cowering by the nightstand.

Did he sense my watchful gaze? Is that why he met my eyes?

There's something supernatural about him. I almost feel foolish for lowering my guard and admiring the possibility of softness in him.

I listen closely for footsteps, but I hear none. Thank the Ancestors.

I stay on the hard, cold ground. I can't bring myself to rest on the luxurious bed when my friends are on the run. Disoriented and penniless. I'm sure they're not sleeping on silky sheets tonight, so I will do the same in solidarity.

I keep the lantern on as I lay on my back and close my eyes. I'm surprisingly tired. The tapering of the adrenaline is taking its toll on me.

I fall asleep and linger in darkness for a while before I enter a terrifying dream.

Gusto barges into my room.

I blink sleepily as I stare at his terrifying, rageful face. Chains dangle from his wrist, jiggling when he takes a step forward.

I quickly realize this isn't a dream after all.

I snap out of it and scream right as Gusto dives for me. He grabs my ankle and drags me closer.

"Shut up! Shut up!" he growls under his breath, covering my mouth with one hand and slapping me around with the other. He shoves my head backward, knocking me against the floorboards repeatedly as if trying to knock me out.

The window explodes behind me, glass shattering all over us.

My hair obscures my view. But I hear wind whistling and a beastly roar. Then there's a thud, and Gusto falls over. Warmth splatters all over me, and the metallic scent of blood follows.

"Close your eyes. Keep them closed until I return," comes Malik's deadly voice.

I don't move a muscle.

Even when I hear Malik dragging Gusto's body.

Even when I hear a shovel hitting the ground in the distance.

It doesn't take Malik long to dig a hole. It's like he's experienced burying bodies.

Tears streak down my temples and wet my hair. They're warm. Meanwhile, the blood over my body cools.

Malik returns to the house. Glass creaks under his boots as he steps closer.

I release a shuddered breath when he slides his arms underneath me, picking me up. I keep my eyes closed as he carries me out of the guest room where he just murdered Gusto.

I don't know where he's taking me, but I sure as fuck don't dare to ask.

"Bath," he mutters. "I'm giving you a bath."

Oh, how the tables have turned.

A/N: Back to the bathtub we go :)

READ PART 5>