The Pleasure Slave (9 page)

Julia slowly pushed out a breath. The moment of reckoning had arrived. Either she asked Tristan to teach her how to entice Peter, or she forgot the plan altogether. Was she a woman or chicken?

One glance at the chiseled perfection of Tristan’s features and she knew her answer.

Chicken. Definitely chicken.

More than likely, her pleasure slave had never faced a moment of rejection in his life. He didn’t know how it felt to have others make fun of him, call him mean names and torment his every waking hour. She did. She knew. Her emotions bore the scars.

“When I said we should have our coffee first,” she told him, “I meant the whole cup.” Though the thought of drinking the entire contents of her mug made her shudder. Owning her own shop meant she couldn’t afford an overnight stay in the hospital due to food poisoning.

“I do not wish to wait,” Tristan said. “I am anxious to learn more about this dating.”

“Okay, okay.” Concealing another shudder, she scooted her coffee away. “I have something to ask you.”

“You have told me that much already.”

“I have?”

“Aye, you have.”

“Well, here goes.” Julia mentally rehearsed her speech one last time.
I can do this,
she thought just before a jolt of pure panic shot through her body, shaking her resolve. Her heart rate increased; her breath came in short, erratic pants. Was the light coming in from the window suddenly brighter? “Do you like cinnamon rolls?” she blurted out. “No. What about croissants? I make them from scratch.”

“I am no longer hungry.”

“What about—”

“Julia.” Her name left his lips on a sigh of exasperation.

“Okay.” By focusing all of her energy on her next words, she managed to temper her body’s trembling. She kept her eyes to the floor and sat perfectly still. Tristan held his cup to his lips, and she felt him expectantly watching her. Waiting.

A woman’s need for romance, she thought, facing him, left no room for pride. “Will you teach me how to seduce my next-door neighbor?”

T
RISTAN NEARLY CHOKED
from fluid inhalation as a gamut of questions swept through his mind. Astonished and praying he had misheard, he demanded, “Repeat your last words.”

A visible force of determination suddenly surrounded Julia. “I want you to teach me how to entice Peter, my next-door neighbor.”

By Elliea, Tristan had never expected this. When she had mentioned men and women and dating, he’d foolishly assumed she desired to ask him on a date.

Him.

“Do you wish to assuage your body’s needs, Julia?
I
am here. Peter—” he spit the name “—is not needed.”

She sputtered, opening her mouth, closing it with a snap. “This isn’t about bodies and needs. This is about love. So yes, Peter is needed.”

“Love?” Tristan scoffed, not liking the idea of another man holding Julia’s affections, and liking even less that he cared. “You are being ridiculous.”

“Why?” She bristled, and if she’d had a sword, he felt certain she would have sliced off his favorite appendage. “Because I’m unattractive?” she demanded to know. “Because I don’t always say the right thing?”

He bared his teeth in a scowl. How dare the woman say something so ludicrous about herself. “You are perfect just the way you are and anyone who says otherwise needs to swing from a pike. I am simply unsure this neighbor of yours can appreciate you.”

Her shoulders relaxed, and the lines around her lips softened. “You’ve never even met him, so how do you know what he’s like?”

“I need not meet him to know he is a coward. Why has he not beaten down your door and demanded that I leave?”

She rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t know you’re here.”

“Such a thing would not stop me from claiming what is mine.”

“That’s the most illogical thing I have ever heard. Besides, this is America. We do not beat down doors.”

“Over the centuries I have learned that origins matter naught. If a man has not the bravery to fight for his woman, then he is no man at all.”

“He’ll fight for me one day,” she said, her words assured but her tone doubtful. Hesitant. “So will you help me or not?”

Tristan watched Julia’s chest rise and fall with her breaths. Throughout the night, a dark carnal craving had grown within him, and he now wanted her with a hunger that surpassed reasoning. He wanted to enjoy her
complexities and contradictions for what short time they had together. And even knowing she longed for another man failed to abate his hunger. Nay, he yearned for her all the more. He desired this amusing, compassionate woman, and by Elliea, he would have her. So would he help her win another man? Nay!

“Why can you not lure this Peter on your own?” he demanded, one brow arched. “Have you tried and failed?”

“No, I haven’t tried.”

“Why not?”

A long while stretched. She ran her tongue over her teeth and fidgeted in her chair, her cheeks glowing with rosy embarrassment. “I don’t know how,” she finally whispered.

“How do you not know how to please a man, little dragon? You are of age.”

“I’m shy.”

“You? Shy?” Certain she jested, he laughed. “You are many things, little dragon, but you most definitely are not shy.”

Tendrils of her hair, the palest locks of all, escaped the band and danced around her temples as she shook her head in denial. “If I were outgoing and bold, wouldn’t I know how to talk and act around men? Wouldn’t I go on lots of dates instead of spending every night at home alone?” Scowling now, she stamped her foot. “I’m shy, I tell you.”

This woman who made his body harden and ache, and who made his blood quicken, thought she needed
help winning a male’s affections? Unbelievable. “You have done just fine with me,” he grumbled.

“But you’re different.”

“I am no different from any other man.”

“Yes, you are. I don’t know how to explain it, but you are different.”

Tristan wanted an answer, not an evasion, but the stubborn set of her jaw told him he wouldn’t acquire what he sought any time soon. So he abandoned that particular line of attack for another. “Has Puny Peter ever tried to win
you?
”

Her chin rose a notch. “No, he hasn’t.”

“You mentioned love. Do you love him?”

She caught her bottom lip with her teeth, watching as her fingers pinched the edge of the counter. “That’s none of your business.”

“If you desire my aid, it had better become my business.”

“Fine. I’ll answer you. Do I love Peter? No, not yet. But he’s perfect for me. We’re alike in so many ways, and I can grow to love him. I just know it.” Before he had time to dissect her words, she sent him an imploring look through her lashes. “I need your help, Tristan. Help me.”

His teeth gnashed in irritation. Finally she proved that she was just like the others, putting her will before his own. And he was helpless to do anything to change the circumstances, helpless to do anything but obey. “I will do as you demand, of course,” he replied, his tone stilted.

“No.” Slowly, with an almost imperceptible motion, she shook her head. “I’m giving you a choice. I won’t force you to do this. If you help me, it will be because you want to, not because you’re my slave.”

Shocked, disbelieving, Tristan could only stare over at her. “You are giving me the right to say nay?”

“Yes.”

How…unnerving. He tangled a hand through his hair and cursed under his breath. Such benevolence proved stronger than any command, leaving only one choice. “I’ll do it,” he drawled, wanting to snatch the words back as soon as they left his mouth.

“Oh, Tristan.” Grinning, she clasped her hands, jumped to her feet and spun around. Then she plopped back into her chair with a happy
whoop.
“Thank you. Thank you so much. You won’t regret this. I promise. I’ll be the best student ever.”

“I’ll do it,” he repeated, suddenly inspired. “But on my own terms.”

Her grin slowly faded, and she lost her excited glow. “What do you mean?”

“Like any teacher and student, we must set the parameters of our relationship.”

Her neck elongated ever so slightly as she straightened in her chair. “Just what are these
parameters?
”

“You may not see or otherwise engage in any type of activity with another man until I say you are ready.” Which meant she would never see Peter the Weakling again!

“I don’t think—”

“I am the expert,” he interjected. “Therefore we will
do this at my pace. During a lesson, you will do what I say, when I say and how I say. No arguments.”

“Now hold on just a damn minute.”

He never even paused. “You will allow me to sleep in your chamber.”

She gasped. “That’s not going to happen. I’m asking for flirting lessons, not Dresden crystal.” Seconds ticked by but he didn’t respond. He merely watched her, expectant, determined. Finally she conceded, albeit reluctantly.

“Fine,” she snapped, “you win. Is that it?”

“No. You will remember the first parameter at all times.”

She folded her arms across her middle, causing her shirt to strain, emphasizing the fullness of each breast. “Is
that
it?”

“For now.”

“What about this? I’ll agree to your parameters, if you agree to mine.”

Tristan almost smiled. He forced his lips to remain in a straight line, however, hoping he appeared stern. “I am listening.”

“
You
may not date, see, or otherwise engage in any type of relationship with another woman while you’re teaching me,” she said, mimicking his domineering tone.

“Agreed.” He refrained from mentioning that because she owned his box, he wasn’t allowed to attend to other women. That would have spoiled the fun.

“You will treat me with respect at all times, especially in the presence of others.”

He didn’t have to fake a frown this time. Her words irked his masculine pride. “That is something you need not ask for.”

“Nonetheless, I’d like to hear your agreement.”

He gave a stiff nod. “You have it.”

“You can tell no one of our arrangement.”

“Agreed.” Who would he tell?

“You will…you will…never wear your sword in my house.” She smiled triumphantly, and he knew she expected him to balk or, at the very least, to bargain.

He wanted to. Being without his weapon made him vulnerable to attack, and he knew nothing of this world, nothing of its people. The knowledge frustrated him, yet he said, “I agree to all of your conditions, Julia.”

She paused. Surprised flickered in her beautiful fey-green eyes before she once again rewarded him with a smile. “Thank you, Tristan.”

“Do not thank me yet.” He stood, then paced back and forth in front of the kitchen counter. “Lesson one will be how to dress properly. If the garments I found in your closet are any indication of what you normally don to impress a man, you need guidance. And this,” he indicated her slacks and blouse with a sweep of his hand, “is attire only a man should wear.”

“We can go to the mall. It will have the largest assortment of clothes to choose from.”

“What is this mall?”

“A big building filled with clothes, food and other necessities for the public to purchase.”

“Ah, a market,” he said, his tone both wistful and resigned at the same time.

“We’ll go this evening after I close the shop,” she said, then paused. She had to open her store in an hour. Just what was she going to do with Tristan while she worked? She could leave him here where he’d grow bored and execute something. She could send him back inside his box, but he’d hate her for the rest of her life.

She wanted so many things from him, but hate wasn’t one of them.

She was going to have to take him with her, she realized with a shiver of anticipation and a shudder of dread. First, however, he needed new clothes.

Having a pleasure slave grew more complicated by the second.

Looking him over, Julia chewed on her bottom lip. “Before you can leave the house, we’ll have to find you more appropriate clothing.” Preferably something less sexy, something that covered every inch of his bronzed, come-and-lick-me skin.

“What is wrong with my drocs?” he demanded.

She gave him another once-over. In those leather tights, with no shirt, he resembled an exotic dancer playing the part of a rogue pirate, and perversely, she wanted him to stay that way. Except, equally perverse, she didn’t want any other woman seeing him like that.

“They’re too tight,” she informed him. “I can see the outline of your…your…I can just see things I’m not supposed to see, okay?”

His arms crossed over his chest, and he uttered a pa
tronizing snort. “If a warrior’s clothes are loose, they are easily grabbed by his enemy.”

“We’re not at war.”

“Silly dragon. Enemies are all around us, some seen, some hidden.”

“Fine,” she said on a sigh. “Keep your pants. You still need a shirt, though.”

“Mayhap it would be easier if we simply stripped naked and stayed here.”

“No!” she shouted, though her body screamed,
Yes. Oh, yes.

“Will you find me appropriate attire, little dragon?” His voice was pure, unadulterated sin, and seemed to suggest he could wear
her.

Images of her naked body covering him, of her arms draped around his shoulders and her legs wound around his waist, flashed inside her mind. A delicious shiver danced along her spine, and she sucked her lip into her mouth.

“Do not do that,” he suddenly growled, all traces of seduction gone.

Confused by his abrupt mood shift, Julia blinked up at him. “Don’t do what?”
Don’t imagine myself draped over your hot, sweaty body?
Too late.

“Do not bite your lip. It is bad for you.”

“It is not.”

“If you continue, I might add another parameter. No biting of the lips—I mean, no biting of your own lip. You may bite me as much as you like,” he said. “Now, about the clothing. I require that you fetch me a shirt.”

“There’s a store a couple miles from here that’s open twenty-four hours. They’ll have everything you need.” Again she glanced down his big, hard body. “I just hope they have big enough sizes.”

“We will leave immediately.” Without waiting for her reply, he pivoted on his heel and stalked to the door.

“Wait!” Julia leapt up and bolted after him. She grabbed his arm, a puny action, really, when dealing with a man his size, but it had the desired affect. He stopped.

“
You
can’t go,” she told him. Thankfully, she’d only be gone an hour, probably less, and that didn’t leave much time for him to get into trouble.

He faced her, both brows winged upward. She’d known him such a short time and already she could judge his moods. Arched eyebrows meant one of two things: He was confused, or he was angry. Either way, she suffered.