He pauses and glances back at the motorhome.
“Were you…” he trails off and blushes beautifully. Turning as pink as his name.
His embarrassment clouds the air. I didn’t intend to cause him discomfort. Now I feel bad.
“Sorry,” I rasp.
He sighs and offers me his hand. “Come on, I need a coffee.”
Cautiously, I give him my hand, and he pulls me to my feet. Then he continues his journey towards the main house, this time towing me behind him. This is interesting.
We reach the kitchen and he releases me to start preparing coffee. I take a seat at the table.
“Would you like a tea or coffee?” he asks.
“Hot chocolate?” I ask hopefully. It’s worth a try.
Pink flashes me a quick smile and retrieves a jar from the cupboard. My pulse quickens. I think that is hot chocolate. And he is making me some. This is amazing.
He finishes preparing the drinks and brings them over to the table. There is no cream on mine, but it still smells incredible.
“I’m so glad you are up and about, Gray,” says Pink suddenly.
I pull my attention away from the hot chocolate to look at him. He is a very pretty little human. His eyes are full of sadness and concern.
“I’m sorry we didn’t do more to help you.”
Oh, he is talking about the harem. I shrug. “You were imprisoned too.”
“Not like you,” he says darkly, and he reaches over to take my hand. “I was free to wander the penthouse. Ritchie even took me out a fair few times. I got to have friends. Red, Lello, Blue, Jade and Ned became my family.”
“I don’t really remember it,” I say. He is upset. Maybe my words will comfort him.
He squeezes my hand. “They left you chained to a bed. In a devil’s trap. You were never allowed out. Ritchie would go into your room with a group of his friends and…” he trails off and closes his eyes. “We’d clean you up after. Take turns sitting with you to keep you company. But we should have done more. I’m sorry.”
My stomach twists uncomfortably. I don’t think I want to know. The hazy memories are bad enough. I’m glad I lost my mind and drifted away. There was nothing worth staying for.
It is nice that Pink cares. I vaguely recall him. The feel of his essence is familiar. He was so very sad. His soul was a despondent, dull flicker of someone who had given up. It is wonderful to see that there is hope in his eyes now. I’m glad he is free.
Sudden realization hits me, and my stomach drops. Pink is a damaged soul. A recently freed sex slave. I should not have disturbed his privacy. Being observed, in any way, was probably not pleasant. Yet another violation of his consent.
“I’m sorry for earlier,” I rasp, as I gesture in the direction of the motorhome. “I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Pink blushes beautifully and takes a sip of his coffee. “It’s okay,” he says. “You can’t help being hungry.”
I tilt my head at him. “Mal is feeding me,” I remind him.
Pink appears nonchalant as he sips his drink again. “Yes, but you can’t sustain yourself on one person alone.”
I shudder. It feels as if my very blood is turning to ice. I am thousands of years old, of course I knew this, deep down inside me somewhere. Buried and forgotten. Which, I suppose is notsurprising. I’ve never tried to restrict myself to only one person before. Theo and I enjoyed sex parties. This fundamental part of my nature has never been an issue. It wasn’t relevant information to retain. Especially when I have lost so much of myself anyway.
But the truth remains. My existence is woven from magic and life force, and like any tapestry or even a simple cloth, it simply cannot be created from one single thread.
No matter how long, thick or beautiful that thread is.
I force a gulp of hot chocolate down my tight throat. I don’t want anyone else. I want Mal. Only Mal.
The mere thought of a stranger’s hands on me is abhorrent. I’m going to be sick. I can’t remember how to breathe. My head is spinning.
