The Consort

Chapter 35: Fruit

"Trouble in paradise?" John asks, laughing to himself as he shoves another fry in his mouth.

I shrug, rolling my eyes. "You could say that."

I watch John with mild disgust, his sloppiness with the food making him a greasy mess. He lets out a loud gulp as he swallows what's in his mouth, tongue peeking out to lick at his lips. An unpleasant shiver runs through me at the sight but I try my best not to judge, remembering how similarly I ate the first time Heloix gave me food.

I can't imagine I looked much better scarfing down the pasta, barely chewing on it before swallowing and shoving another heaping forkful in my mouth. Heloix didn't seem to mind, though, a large smile on his face the entire time he watched me eat.

"You still ignoring him?" John probes, sticking a greasy finger into his mouth and sucking harshly on the digit in an attempt to clean it.

"Kinda. We haven't really spoken since we got back." I explain, unsure how much I should tell him.

I've gone back and forth many times on whether I should inform him that Heloix told me I am his mate, but each time I go to say it I chicken out, afraid of John's judgment. It's no secret that he isn't a big fan of Heloix, and I don't want him to think of me differently because of it.

Reaching forward, I pick up a fry and plop it in my mouth, humming in pleasure at the salty taste. Heloix recently changed the menu for the slaves, introducing meats, cheeses, and spices to our meals. It's been so lovely, and the dining area has been jam-packed every meal time since it started, everybody eager to get their fill of the food.

"I want him to treat us better." I complain, pressing my lips together and flattening them into a straight line.

John stops chewing as I say this, his eyes narrowing as he turns his head to look at me like I'm crazy. "We have good food and he told the Beasts they can't beat or rape us anymore. What more do you want?"

I scoff, shocked that he is content with such minor improvements. Heloix has given us the bare minimum, and I want us to be treated as equals, able to make our own decisions and lead our own lives. I know that this is the only life we've ever known and it's hard to imagine anything different, but at one point we didn't serve anybody but ourselves.

When Heloix drove us home we passed hundreds if not thousands of abandoned houses that once occupied humans. He could easily reserve a piece of property for us to live in. We could be self-sufficient manage ourselves.

"Seriously?" I snort, crossing my arms in mild anger. "That's not nearly enough."

John shakes his head in response, clearly not believing that there is room for further improvement, before bringing his attention back to the fries. I watch through narrowed eyes as he picks one up, the long stick flopping over under its own weight. John spins it around in his fingers for a moment before pointing it towards me, the fry acting as a crooked, limp finger.

"I have an idea!" He exclaims, voice rising in excitement.

I glance around as I shush him, not wanting the others to overhear our conversation. Even though pretty much everybody at this point knows about Heloix and I sharing his wing, they aren't aware of any specifics and I'd like to keep it that way.

I assume they all think me to be his whore, and while I don't necessarily love that, it's better than them thinking that there are feelings involved. Being his whore is a forgivable offense, but to actually care for and love him would make me a laughing stock.

"What is it?" I whisper, desperate for any sort of help.

John smirks, a dangerous glint in his eye that has my palms sweaty.