Adam's Slave

twenty six- Adam

He obeyed, as he should. And parked where I directed, his moves slow as he went quiet, calculating his words before saying them, "Was because I listened in? I would've thought you knew. That you were aware, or you would've had me leave otherwise."

"It's not that."

"The fact that I couldn't cook? You haven't tried my cooking. You couldn't possibly know."

I was enjoying this too much to relieve his worry, I wondered where it'll go next, "Not that, either."

Something behind his eyes seemed to change before he said, his tone different. "I won't lay a hand on one of yours again, Sir. I swear it."

We were sitting in the dark now, in a parking lot underground with light only coming from the one elevator twenty feet away. His hands clasped around the steering wheel, fingers digging into the leather and his features contracted painfully, as if the skin was about to crack.

I laid a hand on his arm, "We are here," I said slowly, "because my sister thinks you could be a danger to her two kids."

He let go of my car, his face softening as he turned to me, a puzzled look on his face, as if I just uttered a riddle he's having a hard time solving. "I," he said softy, "Wouldn't-"

"Wouldn't?"

"Couldn't," he said. "Could never, Sir, Master. Why would she think that? I would never, ever! At any case, it would be the opposite. I would protect, not harm. Nor hurt! Master!"

When it took me longer than a second to answer, he said, "Listen, Sir! No, truly, Sir! Why would I ever harm children of my Master's!"

"They're not my children." They are bastards she decided to take on, and raise as her own.

"I don't see it like that, Sir, I-"

I cut in, "Your past suggests otherwise."

"I-"

"My boys are generally docile, unlike you." Not entirely true. Rhys is anything but. He, however, has been here longer than my Theresa herself has been here. "I choose them weak, to pry on them, and break them apart. She got used to that, and had liked it. She doesn't like the change."

Softly, as if in a daze, he chanted, "I can be docile. You can break me, one thousand and twenty two pieces, even more."

"I," I said, my hand on his leg, going up, I wondered if he'd follow, "like the change, however."

Our faces were inches apart. His eyes fluttered, only a second, then, "Why you lettin' me go, then, Sir?"

"I am not." When our lips met, they clashed, and he didn't retreat, but met me with the same heat I had for him, as we were joined as one. My hands were on his body, I felt the wetness of his cheek against mine. It only awakened a hunger I knew I had in me. I wanted more. More.

As if he knew what I was after, he bared his neck, bracing both hands on my thighs. And for a change, it didn't bother me, or feel needy and overly presumptuous. He felt right where he needs to be, crowding me when I needed that from him.

As I sunk my fangs into him, I realized that this trip would always be the turning point when it came to him. It was when I realized I liked him enough to keep close. When he let himself cross to the other size, and when I let him, because I liked the boldness for a change.

It was a quick drink, barely enough to satiate me if I had really been thirsty, but enough to take the edge off.

I broke our union, ordering.him out of the car, and he obeyed, his eyes searching my face. It wasn't until we were in the elevator, though, going up, that he asked me again, "Where are we going? Will you tell me? Sir?"

I said instead, "You don't have a collar."

He touched his throat self-consciously. "You didn't give me one, Master."

"I am, now," I told him. "I had it made with very specific instructions. Especially for you."

He was about to say something when he held his tongue, I raised my eyebrows at him.

"It's just," he started. "You're sending me all different kinds of mixed signals, Sir. Not ten minutes ago, I had thought you were getting rid of me. Now you're buying me a collar as if I'm a favored one."

The elevator's door slid open with a bing, just as I said, "It isn't one with jewels, Dante."

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