The Copper Horse #2 Pride (6 page)

“Some of them
are, but there is something much more interesting behind their
backs.” Erik lowered his voice, looking straight at Reuben with
those hypnotizing eyes. “Can you keep a secret, my Copper?”

“Oh, yes,
Master!” His heart pounded at the thought of Erik entrusting him
with something important. Erik’s grin convinced him his enthusiasm
showed on his face.

“Seal the
promise with a kiss.”

Reuben arched
up to kiss Erik without hesitation and then sucked on his upper lip
for a second, never breaking eye contact. He felt proud when he
heard a whimper break from Erik’s throat.

“Above the
desk, on one of the shelves is a book about the Third Seville War,
about a slave uprising against the ancient Romans.” Erik raised his
hand, roughly indicating the volume he meant. “When pulled halfway
out of the shelf, it opens a secret passage to London. My brother
doesn’t know I know.” He chuckled like a mischievous child.

“I will never
tell anyone,” Reuben promised with a smile.

“I sure hope
so, because if you did, Frey’d have us both killed,” Erik told him
casually.

“Even you?
Aren’t you too important?” Reuben nuzzled his knee.

“Not as much as
his pathetic life.” Erik opened his mouth as if to say something
more, but stilled when they heard the sound of approaching
footsteps.

Reuben stayed
where he was, but he tensed up and looked to the door. It opened
with a quick swing and in came Frey, just like Reuben remembered
him: tall, intimidating, and cold. Even the fine midnight blue coat
didn’t make him seem more gentile.

“You will dine
with us, won’t you, Erik?” he asked, walking past the fainting
couch, but his impassive expression quickly turned into a scowl as
soon as he spotted Reuben. “For God’s sake, what is this fucktoy of
yours doing here? Couldn’t you leave him with my servants like you
always do?”

Erik didn’t
even flinch. “I could, but I didn’t wish to.”

Reuben found it
hard to fight a smile at those words. He even straightened his back
a bit more, looking at Frey without fear.

Frey rolled his
eyes. “Can
it
at least stop staring? I’m not in the mood to
argue about this.”

Erik sighed.
“Fine. Copper, look at me only. Can you do that?” he asked,
lovingly cupping Reuben’s face.

“Yes,
Master.”

“Oh, Erik.”
Frey shook his head while walking to his desk. “Do I really deserve
this? Of all people, why does my brother have to be the biggest
deviant I know?” He rubbed his forehead and sank into a chair.

Erik frowned,
gently massaging the hairy top of Reuben’s head, sending sparkles
of pleasure under the leather covering all of Reuben’s body. “I
don’t know why. Maybe you should find some new friends in Bedlam to
lift that burden off your chest?”

Frey shrugged.
“I was just trying to be honest. So, are you staying for
dinner?”

Reuben was only
looking at Erik or to the floor, but he could still see Frey from
the corner of his eye. The man seemed in a better mood than during
their first encounter. Or he was just trying to be sweet to Erik to
butter him up for something.

“Only when you
let my pony dine with us.”

“Can’t he just
stay under the table or something? Wouldn’t you like that?” Frey
couldn’t suppress a laugh that made Reuben’s smile falter.

Erik shook his
head. “I am well aware you never had any interest in studying
nature, but it’s still striking you don’t know a horse cannot live
on his master’s seed alone.”

“Uh, that is
disgusting. You don’t want him to sit at the table, like an actual
person, right?” Frey started shuffling through some papers on his
desk.

“As a matter of
fact, I do.”

Reuben knew
Erik had only said that just to piss his brother off. Still, the
mere thought of being at the table with people who knew their way
around all the fancy tableware made Reuben nervous. Where he was
now, at least he knew his place and could relax, knowing Erik would
take care of things. But at a dinner table? Even if Frey wasn’t the
most refined of men, how would he cope? Would he be expected to
talk?

Frey went
silent, and the rustling of papers stopped. “Oh, do you?” he said
after a moment. “Do you want a servant to fetch some clothes for
him?”

“Why? He’s
dressed just as I am.”

“He’s wearing a
fucking tail, Erik.”

“Think of it as
a fashionable accessory, and maybe you could borrow the idea for
your wives.”

“I’ve heard
enough of this,” hissed Frey and slammed his hand on the table.
“You do whatever filth you want with that slave of yours, but you
do
not
talk about my wives like that.”

“Well, then
don’t take so many liberties when talking about my stallion.” Erik
got up from the fainting couch and walked over to a black and red
screen. He folded it, revealing a set dining table.

“Should I stand
up, Master?” Reuben asked from the floor, avoiding Frey’s eyes. The
man must have really needed something from Erik to tolerate this
much. Reuben was also lost by the idea that Frey had more than one
wife, but then again, it
was
Bylondon.

“Yes, come with
me.”

Frey looked up
at Reuben with a deep scowl and shook his head. “Just don’t let it
talk to my wives.”

Reuben
approached Erik without a word, his gaze cast down to the floor.
Even when dressed, it felt degrading to be talked to like that.
Erik’s hand on his face came almost as a surprise.

“What is it, my
darling?”

“What should I
do?” Reuben whispered, uncomfortable with the whole situation.
“What are the rules?” It was the only thing that came to his mind.
Not having guidelines was unnerving.

“Be polite and
listen only to me. I will keep you out of harm’s way,” Erik
promised, gently tracing his thumbs over Reuben’s cheekbones before
rising to his toes to kiss him.

And just in
that moment, the door slammed open and four women rushed into the
room in a cloud of chatter. Each of them wore a dress of a
different color, drowned in frills and lace. The clothes were so
elaborate it was almost too much.

“Darling! We
had such a good day!” one of them chirped, sidling up to Frey in a
fluid movement.

“Oh, and look
who’s joined us for dinner!
This
will be interesting!” A
handsome dark haired woman laughed and hid her lips behind a red
fan. Her accent was almost as foul as Reuben’s was when he didn’t
make an effort.

“Frey! We went
to the circus, and then Annabelle helped me buy a new set of
earrings... you remember you promised, right?” twittered a
beautiful young girl dressed in a gown that seemed loosely inspired
by a peacock’s tail. She ran over to her husband and moved to sit
in his lap with a delighted giggle. “We have all missed you
so!”

Reuben couldn’t
help but gawk at all the fuss and swirls of fabric. The four women
seemed to get along like best friends even though they shared the
same husband. He couldn’t help but wonder about jealousy. Where he
came from, this could have never worked.

Frey gave the
woman a tender smile. “Maybe we can go together next time. When I
have less work to do.”

Less people to
murder, Reuben thought.

The Peacock
leaned into a kiss before withdrawing slightly to allow Red Fan
have her turn.

“You must be
tired, my white lion. You need something to take your mind off all
those important things,” she said, gently tracing her gloved hand
up his throat.

“At the moment,
I am too hungry for that.” He smiled at them and got up from behind
the desk.

Reuben was
amazed by how relaxed Frey seemed now, but he could understand that
being lavished with loving gestures by a group of beautiful ladies
for whom he seemed to be the center of the universe had to be
rewarding for any man.

“Where is that
fucking dinner?” shouted the most mature looking of Frey’s wives.
She had a distinctive tattoo below her right eye. “Your master’s
hungry!”

Erik was quick
to fill Reuben in. Peacock’s real name was Anita, and she was
barely sixteen, married to Frey for less than two months. The one
with the horrible accent was Emma, a former whore Erik’s brother
had met at a pub in London. Erik described her as a fellatrix
extraordinaire, though Reuben had no idea how could his master know
of her skill. Bryana, the one with the tattoo used to work for the
Dals before retiring into Frey’s bed. The tattoo was the work of a
jail guard. She disemboweled him on her first day out. Anabelle,
the last woman, was the quietest, but she still shone as brightly
as her fellow wives because of her flame-colored curls and a smile
that could melt even the coldest of hearts.

With all the
chatter, it took another quarter of an hour for everyone to be
seated, and Reuben found it intimidating to actually join in like
an equal, since everyone knew he wasn’t, even with his hands free.
There was far too much cutlery to choose from, and all he could do
was look for cues from the other diners.

“So he’s the
one who breeds horses?” asked Anita over the dinner table. Her gaze
transferred to Reuben. “And he’s the horse?”

Reuben returned
her gaze but wasn’t sure if he should answer. His palms were
sweating, and Frey’s presence wasn’t helping either.

“He’s a horse
that takes it up the ass!” Emma laughed, and Reuben’s heart sank
all the way to the floor.

“Please, not at
the dinner table.” Anabelle sighed, looking as noble and pretty as
one would expect from a proper lady.

Frey just
grumbled something and gorged on his steak.

“He’s
outstanding at it, dear Emma.” Erik nodded at her with a smile and
gathered some of the meat and potatoes on his fork only to gently
lift it to Reuben’s lips. “I’m sure none of you could ever
compete.”

This
Reuben knew how to deal with, even if it was in public. He took the
food without question, looking up to his master just for a second.
His face must have been beet-red by now, he was sure of it.

It seemed Emma
wanted to say something, but the youngest wife interrupted her.
“His hair is really interesting, like a real horse mane.”

“It is very
soft too. You may touch it if you want,” Erik said, eating a
forkful of food himself. He fed Reuben with the same fork, and it
felt like a strangely intimate gesture, especially with Erik’s
family watching.

The girl gasped
and pushed her chair back, but Frey grabbed her hand. “That’s
enough, Anita. You will not touch it.”

“But he seems
awfully pleasant!” She pouted but pulled back the chair without
protest.

Bryana snorted
into her wineglass, her gaze tracing Reuben’s form with
unmistakable interest. “I wouldn’t mind a pet like that. We could
have him castrated so that none of us gets a belly from him,” she
teased Frey, reaching towards him under the table.

Reuben stilled,
clutching his thighs together.
Oh God
. He hoped Erik would
never consider something so horrible. Reuben valued his balls.

Frey just shook
his head. “You really are a devil, my love.” He smiled at her, and
Reuben could imagine that it was something she was doing under the
table that made him so happy. “Maybe we’ll buy him off my brother
when he’s bored with his toy. But I’m afraid we’d have to take his
cock away too. Can’t have that in the house.”

Reuben pressed
his thighs together even tighter. The conversation had killed his
appetite.

“Not a chance.
I rather like his cock and balls,” Erik said, slipping a round
chunk of bread into his mouth with a loud pop.

Anabelle
scowled. “Erik, why do you have to be such a pig every time we see
you?”

“Someone needs
to be the pig if your husband’s a lion.”

Reuben couldn’t
even laugh, too focused on the sole idea of castration. He didn’t
know how a man could ever cope with that.

“A pig, a lion,
and a horse, all at one table!” Anita laughed and stroked Frey’s
arm gently. In his wives’ presence, he didn’t even seem concerned
with Erik’s abomination of a slave. Maybe he wanted to be
considered more of a gentleman than he was.

“Now that’s a
feast,” Emma said before pursing her lips around the fork. In time,
the atmosphere became bearable again, but Reuben supposed the
venison steaks had a lot to do with that.

After the
dinner was over, and Frey’s wives left to prepare for the night,
both the Dal brothers and Reuben moved back to the desk. The way
Frey’s features hardened as soon as his female companions left the
room made Reuben cringe a bit.

“I have bad
news,” Frey said, rolling out a map on his massive desk.

“What a
surprise.” Erik walked over to a small liquor table and got himself
a glass of whisky.

Reuben gasped
at the smell. He could sense it even kneeling on the floor, and
looked up to follow his master’s moves. A drink would be so
delicious after the meaty feast they’d had for dinner. He knew
horses didn’t drink, but he wasn’t a
real
horse. Surely Erik
understood that.

“Anarchists, or
Humanists, as they like to call themselves now, have learnt about
our food transport routes into London.” Frey pointed to something
on the map. “The irony is, they wanted to use the cemetery train
route to get into the city, themselves, though I’m not sure yet
what for. Some of our men were killed, a few got away, but knowing
Gregorovich, it’s only a question of time before he squeezes the
necessary intel out of the ones his men kept. Our enterprise will
take a massive blow if we lose those routes.”

Erik slurped.
“And what can I do about this?”

Reuben moved
closer to his legs, ready to support his master in any way he
could.