Bee Among the Clover (48 page)

A
RON surveyed the group as they rode. He had them all figured out, save one: a slim young man who rode towardtoward the back, who was called up to
Wulfgar’s side every so often, only to quickly return to his place. Aron
wasn’t sure of the young man’s position. His collar said slave, and yet
why would a slave have been brought on an outing such as this?
Aron couldn’t deny the little swell of excitement as the group neared
Wulfgar’s hall. Captivity was not in his nature, and he hated the idea of it,
but at the same time, being surrounded by warriors, action, and tales of adventure was something of which he’d always secretly dreamed. He had no illusions that his new life would be an easy one, but he couldn’t deny
looking forward to something, someplace, other than his daily existence.
He greedily took in the sight of the mead hall as they passed through the main gate. It was easily four times the size of his father’s. The horses drew to a halt, and Aron scowled when Osric gave him a barked order to
“Get off the bloody horse.”
He dismounted and bit back a sharp retort. He reminded himself that he wasn’t a slave and that it was only for a year.
Wulfgar dismounted, tossing his reins to a waiting thrall. “Boy,
Roman. Follow me.”
The thane made his way into the mead hall without looking back,
and Aron hurried to follow, inwardly seething. He had a name. As Wulfgar strode through the hall, Aron glimpsed long trestle tables and a great fireplace that emanated succulent odors, but the thane moved too
quickly for him to get much of a chance to look around.
The three of them entered another room, and Wulfgar sat down on
the edge of a massive, fur-covered bed. There was a table neatly stacked
with books and scrolls, and another large fire warmed the chamber. Aron guessed this must be Wulfgar’s private room. He’d heard of such things, but in his home, the entire family shared a single space.

“Roman, fetch another collar that will fit our arrogant puppy here.” The slim, dark man next to the door nodded and slipped off. Aron narrowed his eyes at Wulfgar.

“I thought you said I was a thrall. Thralls don’t wear collars. My lord.” It took every bit of willpower he possessed to remain respectful.
Humor sparkled in Wulfgar’s gray eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You are a thrall, boy, but you’ll wear a collar because I wish to see it on you. Let me get one thing straight between us. Outside of this room, you’re free to do as you wish, as long as you show me and the other battle-lords proper respect. Inside this room, I want your complete submission. Defiance will bring about swift punishment, I promise you that.”
Aron blinked, certain he’d misheard. Wulfgar couldn’t be implying what he thought suspicion. “What Wulfgar referred mundane. The thane’s cocked brow said otherwise.
Aron’s temper flared, and he shook his head. “No! This isn’t what I agreed to, and well you know it!”
Wulfgar rose from the bed, glowering. “You agreed to become my thrall for one year, boy, and
this
is the duty I desire of you. You’ll perform to my liking or you’ll find your family burned out.”
Aron’s heart pounded. He couldn’t do this; he wouldn’t. He shook his head again. “I tell you, no!”
Wulfgar struck him across the cheek. Aron’s hand came up to touch his face, fury coiling in his stomach. The fury was forgotten when Wulfgar spoke. “You will.” His tone brooked no disobedience. “And until you learn to accept your place, you’ve lost the privilege of clothing. Now strip, boy.” There was a hard twist to his lips. “I’d like to see what my benevolence has brought me.”
Aron stared incredulously. He’d heard rumors about the thane’s sexual practices, but he hadn’t believed them. Impatience simmered in Wulfgar’s gray eyes, and Aron refused to have his clothes torn from him. He squared his chin and drew his tunic over his head, dropping it to the floor, face impassive.
Aron did his best to feign submission, but his heart pounded as he scowled and bent to unwind the crossties around his boots, drawing them off before straightening. His hands hovered at the waist of his trews, but he could not bring himself to draw them down. It was as if his body would not obey his mind’s orders.
he was. His tone was hesitant, eyes narrowed in do you mean, ‘complete submission’?” He prayed to dressing him or cleaning his room, something
His hesitation was brought to an abrupt end when Wulfgar’s voice rang out, calm but firm. “I’m waiting, Aron.” Aron met implacable gray eyes and flushed slightly before drawing down his breeches with angry, jerky motions. He kicked them aside to join his discarded tunic and sneered.
“Do you like what you see, my lord?” Aron fought the urge to cover himself. The flush of embarrassment climbed higher as Wulfgar slowly looked him over; he’d never felt more exposed and ashamed of his nakedness. His gaze fixed on the opposite wall as the thane circled him.
“Tell me, boy, would you have decided differently if I’d given you the full terms of your duties right there in front of your kith and kin?” Aron flinched away from Wulfgar’s breath, hot and moist against his neck. “I think not,” Wulfgar continued, returning to the edge of the bed. “You have honor in you that your father never possessed. You’ll serve me for a year and then return home.”
Aron glowered at Wulfgar and then averted his eyes. The door opened, and the natural instinct to cover himself surged stronger as the young man, Roman, crossed to his master and handed him an object.
Aron’s eyes narrowed on the worked leather collar, denial raging in him. A collar was the mark of a slave, and he was no slave. He shouldn’t be forced to wear one at all. But there was no use in arguing, he knew, as Wulfgar gestured him over.
Aron reluctantly moved closer, trying his best to hide the fear that whipped through him. He wanted to scream at him, “No! No, I will not!” but couldn’t and pressed his lips together to keep the words in. He tilted his chin, refusing to cower as the thane rose from the bed.
Aron strove to keep his expression blank of anything but defiance as Wulfgar snapped the collar closed around his throat. Inside, however, he felt like he was suffocating. He wanted to claw at the unfamiliar weight and tear it from his body. He managed, however, to remain unmoving.
It wasn’t until he heard another sound that he reacted, eyes flicking down and seeing a leash attached to the collar. Fury erupted in him. He was no animal! He planted his hands on the thane’s chest and shoved hard, gaining enough distance to slam a fist into the other man’s jaw. Aron tried to jerk the leash from Wulfgar’s grip frantically, snarling the entire time.
Wulfgar only laughed, rubbing his jaw and yanking on the leash until Aron was pressed up against him. Aron struggled, but the thane simply curled one strong arm around him so that his arms were crushed to his sides. Aron hissed in fury, cursing him without thought. The thane waited and finally gave a sigh that rang with irritation. “This is getting you absolutely nowhere, boy, and my patience is wearing very thin.”
“I’m not your dog or an animal you can drag around on a leash,” Aron spat.
Wulfgar released the leash and backhanded Aron hard, knocking him toward the bed. Aron dropped to one knee, pain exploding across his cheek and stealing his breath.
“You are whatever I say you are. Today you’re my bed slave; tomorrow, who knows what I’ll choose to do with you. Much of that depends upon your tongue and how you choose to use it.”
Aron held his cheek. He glared up at the thane, catching Roman’s silently pleading look as he rose back to his feet in defiance. “Beat me if you want, but I will
not
be your whore.”
Wulfgar smirked. “Very well. Roman, fetch Osric. He’ll be pleased to finish the burning out.”
Impotent fury roiled within Aron. He cursed, knowing he was caught. His jaw clenched tight, and his belly twisted in fear, anger, and disgust.
“Don’t, my lord. I’ll do what you ask.” His voice was low and controlled, dripping with barely leashed fury. Wulfgar hadn’t asked, but nonetheless, Aron would do it. And curse his father with every breath.
Wulfgar nodded. “Good. I thought you’d see reason. Both of you will sit with me during the evening meal and, depending upon how you acquit yourself tonight, boy, I may allow you to wear clothes tomorrow.”
Aron’s flush deepened as he realized that he was expected to parade himself in front of the others wearing nothing but the collar and leash. Wulfgar arched a brow, and Aron pressed his lips together to keep his thoughts from escaping. It wouldn’t do any good, and he wasn’t going to give the man more entertainment than he already had.
“It seems you do know how to shut your mouth when you must.” Wulfgar wound Aron’s leash around his fist, reeling him in. Aron stiffened, then moved forward without protest, though inwardly he screamed. He fought to control the trembling, but it was hopeless. Panic gripped him, and he had a vision of snatching up the sword at Wulfgar’s waist and driving it through the man’s chest. At least he wouldn’t be forced to endure this humiliation, and his own subsequent death would likely be quick.
Aron caught movement out of the corner of his eye, seeing Roman shrinking back into the shadows, sympathy on his face. More fury rose inside Aron. He did not want pity, not from a slave who stood there and did nothing while this happened.
When Aron was flush up against the thane’s body, Wulfgar gripped the leash at the base of the collar. Aron’s breath came quickly from both anger and fear, and he tightened his jaw, glaring up at him.
The thane chuckled. “Let’s test this newfound obedience of yours, boy. Kiss me.”
Aron stiffened, fists tightening at his sides. He didn’t move at first; then, glaring daggers the entire time, he stretched up and pressed his lips to Wulfgar’s briefly before beginning to pull back. Wulfgar’s arm tightened around Aron before he could, hauling him up and forcing his hard lips to close over the young man’s again.
Aron let out an indignant growl and squirmed, but to no avail. Wulfgar was insistent and kissed him possessively. Nausea rolled in his stomach, and he refused to open his mouth as Wulfgar’s tongue licked at his lips. The thane’s hand came up to his jaw, applying firm pressure and forcing his mouth open.
Aron’s struggles renewed at the invasion of the other man’s tongue, and he cursed impotently against the thane’s lips. He might as well have been fighting with a dragon for all the good it did him. Wulfgar tightened his grip around his waist and continued to plunder his mouth like a prize.
When Wulfgar finally released him, Aron stumbled back, gasping for breath and wiping at his mouth. Wulfgar grabbed his leash and jerked him close again.
“I don’t care whether you find pleasure in my bed, boy, but to be there is an honor, and you’ll treat it as such.” The thane’s voice was low and his eyes an icy gray, before he shoved him away again, glancing across the room where Roman stood in the shadowy corner. “Roman. Come here.”
Aron watched as the slim, dark man approached without hesitation, and Wulfgar smiled, clearly pleased with Roman’s obedience.
“Show him how it should be done, Roman.” Wulfgar drew the young man against him and cast Aron a dark look. “Learn well, boy.”
Aron’s eyes widened as Roman’s arms twined around Wulfgar’s neck and he lifted his lips to be kissed. Aron watched them, his mind spinning. Roman didn’t seem to be disgusted in the least at Wulfgar’s attentions.
Aron frowned, crossing his arms. They were welcome to each other.
Wulfgar raised his head, keeping his arms around Roman, and fixed his eyes on Aron. “That was no hardship, was it?”
Roman shook his head. “It was my pleasure, my lord,” he said, keeping his head down, his eyes averted from Aron’s. Wulfgar released the slave, motioning him away with a slap to his flank.
Aron shook his head. He might have to obey Wulfgar, but he’d never do so meekly. “I am not him.” Roman was a slave; he was not. Wulfgar might get what he wanted, but he wouldn’t get it without a fight.
“No, but I’m enjoying the challenge. One day, you’ll submit as readily as he does. Come ’ere, boy. Let’s try that again.”
Aron cursed under his breath. How long would this nightmare go on? His feet were reluctant as he moved toward Wulfgar, desperately seeking some sort of escape. When he got close enough, Wulfgar grabbed his leash again, hauling him closer.
“My lord, they’re waiting for us in the hall.” Roman’s voice was quiet from his spot beside the door.
Aron was undecided as to whether to be grateful for that interruption or unhappy about it, as he remembered how he was expected to appear in the hall. He looked up at Wulfgar and saw him scowl and nod.
“Indeed they are. Come, both of you.” He gave Aron a slow look from head to toe and smirked.