She follows like a good little girl as we board the ship. And as soon as we enter, we can see why this is no ordinary cruise ship.
The entry room is teeming with people. Many of the men wear suits, the women wearing skimpy sheaths or nothing at all. Taara’s lovely wide eyes take everything in in silence, from the crush of guests to their unusual attire. It’s soon clear she’s far from the only girl collared.
What she doesn’t know is that some of these men came alone, many having recently acquired their new partners. They’ve completed their auction, and we arrive just in time to witness the new couples interacting. I honestly am not sure what we’ll see when we board, all I know is that I should be able to find a clue regarding the Thieves trade.
And I get Taara alone. That could either prove helpful or lethal.
“There’s a guest reception tonight in the lounge,” the woman greeting us tells us. She’s tall and thin, her blonde hair tucked into a clip at the back of her head, wearing simple pearl earrings and a black dress. She looks like a stewardess. It’s hard to imagine she knows exactly what happens aboard these ships. Working here, she’d have to.
“Please join us and get to know your fellow passengers a bit better.”
It’s the last fucking thing I want to do, but it’s foolish to ignore an opportunity to find out what I’m looking for.
Thankfully, Taara walks by my side and says nothing at all, obediently following me like the good little girl she is. A bellhop brings our bags to a room at the far end of the hall, and we follow in silence. But when we open the door, I don’t see the large room I was told Tomas booked for us, but instead a tiny room little larger than a closet.
“What the hell is this?” I ask. “This isn’t the room I requested.”
The bellhop frowns. “So sorry, sir.” He glances at a piece of paper in his hand. “This is the one we were told you wished for?”
I frown, looking at the interior. There’s one tiny bed, one little bathroom, and a large window overlooking the sea. I didn’t want to be in such tight quarters with Taara, not so soon.
“Transfer me to the bigger room I requested, please,” I say, keeping my temper in check with effort. I’m trying to stay patient, but this is bullshit.
“I’ll—see what I can do, sir.” And then he’s gone, and I’m standing there awkwardly with Taara.
She looks about the room. “So much for the biggest room they had,” She mutters. “Though this does have a sort of quaint appeal.”
“You like this room?” The girl baffles me.
She shrugs. “I wouldn’t say like. I mean, it would be nice to have a little space…” her voice wanders off and she bites her lip. “I mean—yes, sir,” she says.
The bellhop is back in the doorway.
“I checked, sir, and unfortunately this is the only room we have left.”
I curse under my breath. “Very well.”
“But for your troubles, we’ll be sure to grant you a bottle of champagne on the house. That will arrive shortly. Please let us know if there’s anything else we can do for you.” And then we’re alone, just the two of us, in this tiny space. As master and slave.
But I’m tired. So very tired.
“Sit, Taara,” I tell her. I see our luggage by the door. They’ve had it brought here ahead of us. When she does what I say, I get up and quickly unpack the luggage. Her clothing is simple and elegant, alongside some silky, sexy little numbers. Christ. She’ll have to wear the sexy things aboard this ship. If anyone looks at her, if anyone touches her…
I’m suddenly glad we don’t have the large room. She’ll need to learn to get accustomed to being practically fucking attached to me.
When I finish unpacking, I cast a glance her way. She’s sitting with her hands in her lap, looking about the room. Her bottom lip captured between her teeth, her eyes wide and curious.
“I do know a little bit about master and slave, Stefan,” she says, then her cheeks color. “I’m sorry, I—”
“You may call me Stefan in private,” I allow. “And what do you know?”
She shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t know how accurate it is, for I’ve only read fiction, but…” her voice trails off. “Well, let’s just say it’s intriguing.”
“Intriguing is a good word,” I say, putting the luggage away. “What else do you know?”
She sighs. “A slave obeys her master. A slave’s number one job is to ensure that she serves her master’s every wish, with no thought to her own.” A short pause, then she continues. “And a—a slave trusts her master to care for her every need.”