The Slave (Free Men, #1) (Completed)

Part 6

I awoke cold, stiff and uncomfortable. I grumbled, still half-asleep and my eyes tight shut, groping for the cover and dragging it up around my chin. The resistance from the blanket was my first reminder that I was not alone, and I snapped my eyes open, for half a second forgetting I had entered Kai's room, my heart pounding in expectation of seeing Master sleeping beside me, as I had craved for so long.

Emerald eyes stared back. He was awake, curled on his side and looking at me, practically nose-to-nose and perfectly calm.

"You look disappointed."

I pulled back a little to see him more clearly. "No," I said. "Just forgot where I was for a minute."

"I was looking at your tattoos. I didn't mean to wake you."

I rolled the shoulder I wasn't lying on in half a shrug. "We need to be up soon, anyway."

"Where did you get them?" He reached out, boldly tracing the procession of blue dots that marched across my collarbone.

"My brother made that one." I wet my dry lips with my tongue.

"Is he a slave, too?"

"I wasn't born a slave," I snapped, suddenly defensive. "He was killed."

"I'm sorry."

"So you should be. It was your army that did it."

His eyes widened, and he recoiled from me. I missed his touch immediately. "My army?"

"Rebel troops. Deserters. It doesn't matter now."

"They killed your brother?"

I smiled bleakly. "They killed everyone—everyone except me. I was carried off to the slavemarket instead."

He frowned, his gaze dropping to focus somewhere between us. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault." I smiled, touching under his chin so he looked at me. "It was a long time ago."

"So, did your brother do all your tattoos?"

"Most." I pushed the blanket down to expose my chest and traced a thick swirl around my pectoral. "My middle brother did this one."

He reached out to touch the old inkstain. "Didn't it hurt?"

"Not really. You get used to it. This one was the worst—it tickled." I indicated a long band of colour that slid along my flank to my hip.

He brushed his fingers over it, and I quivered, still ticklish.

"I like the way it moves." He smiled at me, a sudden flash of white teeth.

"Master likes it, too."

His smile faded.

"I wonder what it would be like, sometimes, not to have them. Not to always stand out or have to cover them up if I leave the house." I appraised his unmarked skin candidly. It was a shade or two lighter than Master's, or darker than my own. The colour of warm caramel like I used to be before Master forbade me spending so long in the sun. He worried it would damage my skin, and I had long since faded back to my natural milk-white.

There was a ring around each of Kai's biceps where his clothing used to prevent him from catching a tan, and a small scooped line at the base of his neck just below his collar; the shape of his army fatigues. I touched that line, reaching out slowly so he had time to anticipate my movement. He shied a little, his expression wary, but held still as my fingertips connected with his satiny skin.