Succession (14 page)

“It doesn’t matter what he wants!” I snap. “I asked you a very simple question, and I intend to hear you answer. Do you want to fuck Sascha or not?”

“You can threaten me and hurt me all you want, master, but you will not get me to do anything to Sascha against his will,” Sy replies, his tone as hard and unmoving as his face. “And I would hope that you wouldn’t want that either.”

For all I know, this man is in my home to spy on me, to use me as a bargaining chip like he used Sascha. That, or he’s genuinely interested in helping Sascha, and I’m harassing him for no other reason than a power play.

“You will answer my question or you will be replaced.” The words tumble out of my mouth like an echo of bad history. I sound like my mother; worse, I know I lost the argument by stooping so low.

Sy glares at me, the challenge in his eye more evident now than ever. “Fine,” he concedes. “Yes. I want to fuck him. I’ve thought about it more times than I’m proud to admit, and few things would make my day better than being inside of him. Happy? But know that you will never force me to rape him. I’d rather you beat me or sell me first.”

“Thank you,” I reply stiffly. I am ashamed of my behavior. “I just needed to know.”

Sy doesn’t reply, putting his newfound privilege of silence to use effectively.

“Do you guys want to piss on my leg?” Sascha snaps, giving us both a disgusted look. “Mark your territory a little further?”

I stare at Sascha in shock. The part of me that just channeled my mother is tempted to slap him, and I’m as repulsed by the urge as I was by the threat I made to Syrus. I look away, noticing that Sy looks chastised as well.

“I would never force Sascha to do something he didn’t want to,” I say quietly. “Perhaps I didn’t make that clear enough. Despite the image I might give off, I really do care about him.”

“I do too, sir,” Sy agrees. “I apologize if I was out of line.”

I shake my head. “I baited you. I’m not used to someone responding to that bait.”

Sy nods. He doesn’t properly accept, but I didn’t properly apologize. It seems fair.

“I’m going to go get some sleep, now,” I decide, giving up on my food. I glance at Sascha. “Join me when you’re ready; I think you and Syrus probably need to talk without me for a while.”

Sascha nods. A part of me wonders if he’ll really join me tonight or not. I start to walk out of the room before glancing back at Sy. “Thank you for protecting him when I couldn’t. I won’t forget that.”

“Yes, sir.” Sy nods at me.

I feel some of the tension leaving my body when Cash leaves Sascha and me alone to talk.

“I’m sorry, Sascha,” I begin. I’ve gotten so used to protecting the boy, I forgot how many consequences there could be for my actions now that we’re back with his master. Our master.

He looks at me, confused.

“I didn’t mean to cause trouble between the two of you,” I say quietly. “Or… mark my territory. I know that I have no claim to you anymore.”

“It’s okay. I appreciate it, I just get nervous. I don’t think it would end well if you challenged him.”

“No, probably not.”

“He would beat you, I think,” Sascha says, like it’s a death sentence. If he wasn’t so worried about me, I’d laugh. “I doubt he’d sell you unless you really fucked up.”

“It comes with the territory,” I remind him. “Show me a slave who hasn’t been beaten.”

Sascha frowns, like he’s offended. I think of his delicate pet status, the fact that Cashiel is clearly in love with him. “He’s actually followed through with it with you, then?”

Sascha shrugs. “Yeah. Not like what he threatened to do to you, but he does come through on his threats.”

I do laugh at that. “What, did he put you over his knee and spank you?”

Sascha blushes, and I think he tries to glare. He relationship with his master is obvious and Sascha’s emotions are transparent; it’s easy to see that he’s embarrassed. “Something like that,” he mumbles.

“Nothing wrong with that,” I remind him, grinning. “I’d take that over the whipping he promised any day.”

Sascha looks surprised, like I’d place pride over safety. He’s clearly overrating me. “Survival, Sascha. Something you seem pretty terrible at understanding. I’d take humiliation over being made to bleed; I’d take submission over rebellion. I know when I won’t win.”

“That’s why you backed down to Cash.”

I nod. I understood Cash’s point; he was testing me. Relenting, letting him win, it was his way of reestablishing his power over me, and over Sascha in a way. Sascha panicked, like he did that first day in the detention facility, but he and his master were the only ones out of control. I knew the whole time how it would end. I’ve learned to judge situations like that quickly and effectively, since my life more often than not depended on it. I don’t begrudge either of them for lacking the same skills, but I’m glad I have them.

“I’d just feel guilty if you were in trouble because of me,” Sascha says. “I mean, I brought you here. I thought I could trust Cash to be different. He’s being cruel.”

I smile, reassuring him. “He’s doing what he feels is necessary. I wouldn’t do much different if I was in his situation. I think he and I will come to an agreement more quickly than you think. We have the same goals, and he’s offered to secure my protection. I’m not worried about being killed or sold for now. But tell me the slave stuff. The real insider perspective, now that you’re not all starry-eyed at the very thought of him being near you.”

Sascha smiles, the self-aware look he always gets when I call him out on his eccentricities. “He’s irritable, but he’s not likely to take it out on you too hard. He’s a lot harsher with threats than follow-through, but don’t challenge him. He’ll win, and it will end badly for you. He hates it when you take the moral high ground, but he won’t hurt you for doing so. He gets kind of taken down by that.”

“He’s ashamed of himself when he acts like a monster,” I clarify. “Good to know.”

“Seriously, don’t fuck up in public,” he emphasizes. “With the project, the case, it’s a death sentence.”

“No worries about that. I’ve played the big dumb bodyguard enough to know how to keep my mouth shut. I’m assuming he’ll have the paperwork in order for me to lay hands on free people?”

Sascha looks surprised, and he shudders a little. He must realize the consequences that would occur if those protections aren’t in place. “I’ll make sure he does.”

“I’ve been a bodyguard for almost twenty years, Sascha, I know how it works,” I remind him lightly. “And I’ve had some pretty irritable masters before, too. I have a feeling I can handle myself with this one.”

“That’s a long time. Do you enjoy it?”

“It’s an all right job for a slave.” I can pretend that I’m doing something worthwhile, at least. “It wasn’t what I wanted to be, but I guess it worked out. I sure lived a hell of a lot longer.”

“What you wanted to be?” Sascha asks.

“I always thought I’d go military,” I admit. It’s not something I tell most people; it doesn’t fit with my current status as a criminal. “Since I was a kid, I figured it would be the most noble thing to do. I could use my life to keep peace, follow orders, be a part of something bigger. And I hear that the Demoted in the military don’t get treated too badly, none of the intimidation and brainwashing and stuff that happens outside. You die honorably, your family even gets special commendations. One of my brothers did, a few years before me. I always thought that’s how I’d go.”

“You planned to be Demoted?” Sascha’s eyes are wide with shock.

I smile ruefully. “You were one of the bright ones. You know what percent is Demoted annually, right?”

“Approximately sixteen percent,” he answers instantly. “It always stays the same, because anyone who’s more than one standard deviation away from the year’s—”

“Don’t bother with the math,” I cut him off. “One in six, they told us. Like if you held up six fingers and someone shot one of them off, that one was Demoted.”

Sascha stares at me. I doubt he’s ever heard it explained that way. When he nods, I continue. “Where I grew up, it was ninety percent.”

Sascha still looks stunned. He thinks about it for a minute, then it dawns on him.

“My school boasted an eight percent Demoted rate,” he admits. “Some of the best ones in the country claim to have less than one percent. The differences had to have been made up somewhere, the numbers can’t lie.”

“It’s not that big a deal.” Where I grew up, it wasn’t the exception. It was inevitable. We thought of the best Demoted future instead of worrying about how many of our friends and family were being Demoted. “Where I come from, people have bigger families. They figure, you have a better shot at your one in ten. So, I hoped I would go military, but someone at the re-education center got a look at me and decided I would be much better off as a bodyguard. I have a ‘look,’ I guess. Scary and not unattractive, or so they say. I was never a pretty boy like you are, but when I was your age, I wasn’t so bad, either.”

“You’re not unattractive now,” Sascha says, trying not to blush. “Don’t talk about yourself like you are.”

“I wish I was,” I reply. “Hell, I wish I had six eyes and a beak and scales. Although, that wouldn’t have stopped most of them anyway, it wasn’t about what I looked like. It never is, not really.”

Sascha nods. He knows exactly what I’m talking about.

“And you went to a nice school and had a good chance and threw it all away for what? Drugs? Rebellion?” I ask. He’s never told me that part of his story. “I hope you’ve gotten a little brighter since then.”

“I swapped Assessments with my brother,” Sascha admits. “I couldn’t take the thought of him being Demoted. I thought I was helping him.”

I’m surprised. I underestimated Sascha’s compassion. I try not to let it show, but I’m certain I do. I consider his statement, that he thought he was helping. “Didn’t work out?”

Sascha shakes his head. “He’s got a wife, a kid, a lot of self-worth issues. He knows he shouldn’t be there, and he knows what it cost me. And his wife is the devil. He tried to rescue me from Cash a couple months ago. It didn’t go well. There’s no place for me in his world; hell, there’s no place for him in his world.”

“I doubt you needed rescuing from Cashiel.”

Sascha smiles. “Not usually.”

“Your master really cares about you.” It’s obvious, from the worry to the possessiveness. It’s a liability, but it’s also their main advantage. Cashiel is the only one who doesn’t underestimate Sascha.

“You should go to him,” I tell him. “I could use some sleep as well.”

“Isn’t there anything else you want to know, anything else I can tell you?” Sascha says, hesitant. He looks guilty, like he owes me something.

“I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunity to talk,” I remind him. “Besides. I’m looking forward to trying out that bed again. It’s been too long since I’ve been in a comfortable bed, and honestly, I like sleeping alone. Skinny little boys like you are all elbows, everywhere.”

Sascha smiles. I said it to make him feel better, and he catches on, but that doesn’t change the sentiment. When I stand, he follows, falling easily into the patterns we have established. We walk down the hall, coming to my bedroom quickly. Sascha is torn, and I turn away, hoping to let him go. He throws himself at me, wrapping his arms around my waist, and I turn to pull him in close. He’s scared, but he needs to go back to his master. I doubt he’s really afraid of Cashiel; from what I’ve seen, the two of them are hopelessly devoted to each other. But time away from someone can be a challenge, especially for a slave. Knowing Sascha, he’s not thinking about how much Cash cares for him, he’s probably too busy worrying about everything that might be. I hold him like that until he’s ready to let go, and when he does, he looks up at me nervously.

“I’ll be right here,” I promise. “Thank you for bringing me home. I really do appreciate it.”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done,” he whispers. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, pretty boy,” I tell him, stepping into the room and closing the door.

Chapter 13
Close Ties

I’m alone for the first time in weeks.

I take a few minutes to collect myself. Everything is happening so fast, and I’ve never really done well with change. I want to go back to Cash, but a part of me wants to rush in and stay with Sy, because he has grown familiar. While Cash and I fucked like crazy earlier, we didn’t talk so much. A part of me is scared about what he’ll say. I don’t think he’d be upset at me for doing what I had to do with Sy, but his attitude tonight frightened me. I’m still a little angry with him, because of how he’s treating Sy, and I don’t know how we’re going to deal with the threats in front of us. Cash is out of prison, that’s a good thing, but the rest? I don’t know if we can trust Torenze, or this new lawyer I have yet to meet, or even this Argova family, whoever they are. I don’t want to be in the public eye more than I have to, and I certainly don’t want ties to some criminal organization.

The detention facility was terrible, but was comforting in a way; there weren’t important problems to deal with. Now, it seems like there are so many of them, and all I want to do is curl up and hide until they go away.