With trembling fingers, I reached for the next bite.
“Ah,” he breathed, and pulled it back. “No, pet. Slaves take nourishment from their master’s hand.”
Incredulous, I met his eye—and shivered at what I saw there.
The hunger.
A thing I recognized from that night in his office. Something I’d felt in the slick glide of work-hard fingers, in the ragged breath on my nape as he—
Unable to break from the look in those inky black depths, I leaned forward. Plucking the steak from his fingers with the edge of pointed teeth. Careful not to touch his skin. Not to encourage the flare of elite flames looking for fuel.
Chewing as fast as I could manage, I swallowed it nearly whole and choked when it stuck in my throat.
But the captain would not be deterred. “Lick,” he purred when my tongue lolled out in distress.
I shook my head, staring at the bend in my knees. At the dark silk of the pillow placed there just for me. In anticipation of my surrender.
His touch landed on my lips, leaving the choice to me.
Obey, and swallow the taste of my unsalvageable dignity as it was left in pitiful tatters, or bear the weight of Sasha’s whipping—and be forced to eat the meat anyway.
Smothering a sob, I took his fingers into my mouth and sucked until they were clean. Until all I could taste was salt and man. Straining not to think of where those fingers had been, what they’d done…
What they’d made me do.
“Good girl,” the captain rumbled, tilting my chin back so I might see the need smoldering in his eyes and know he was remembering too.
Planning.
He continued to feed me as the evening progressed, taking care to pass me dainty, bite-sized strips. Insisting I lick his fingers clean between morsels, while I triednotto make a meal of his flesh and bone. To think only of Sasha and the leverage the general wielded with such careless ease.
It wasn’t long before the dull thrum of conversation faded into the background. Before something deep inside me began to revolt against the surge of fatty protein churning in my gut. My ears were ringing, my cheeks flushed and hot, and when a fist of pain blossomed in my stomach, it was with a profound knowledge that all hope for salvaging what remained of my dignity had run dry.
“Drink,” the captain said with a frown. Mild concern etched across that dark brow.
With trembling fingers, I accepted the glass, draining it in one long pull.
Carina rolled her eyes, ankles crossing beneath the table. The flash of red heeled shoes sparkled beneath the table. “Are all your slaves this much work?”
“No,” he replied with a laugh. “It seems Mila will require a significant amount of attention, but then, she isn’t one of my regular slaves, is she?”
A cold sweat broke out on my brow, signaling imminent disaster. And with trembling fingers, I tapped the captain’s thigh once more.
He brushed my hand away.
“You know,” Carina said, licking the full bow of her lower lip. One of those red heels darting between his ankles, only to slide up. A slow caress that glided from the captain’s ankle to his knee. Inching closer to his inseam. “I’ve never understood the appeal of owning a pleasure slave.”
“No?” he answered, offering a bland smile.
Shaking her head, Carina sipped at her drink. “A man of a conquered nation couldn’t possibly compare to a full-blooded Caledonian, much less anelite,” she purred. And then, as Eloran slaves brought around plates of dessert, she slipped a dainty foot free of her red stiletto. Slipping it between the captain’s knees, where one slim ankle made to caress the inside of this thigh.
It was too much.
Without much warning at all, nausea bubbled up the back of my throat. My distress going utterly unnoticed in the face of Carina’s sickly-sweet charm.
Ribs heaving with force enough to crack bone, I vomited. Expelling my steak dinner in a gush of vile chunks all over Carina’s pretty red heels.
It filled the empty shoe, splashed between her toes when she recoiled with a caw of shock. And then, when she launched herself back from the table, she slipped in the warm, slick bile—launching her shin straight into the cross beam supporting the table legs with athunkthat clattered silverware and made glass dance.
