Page 38 of Flock This

“I have no idea what’s wrong with me that I like that attitude of yours. Good thralls remain sweet and docile, but they bore me. You, on the other hand, you challenge me at every turn, and I find I like it more and more.”

“Like you didn’t already know you’re twisted.” I opened the cap from the bottle and dry swallowed one of the pills. Wet dreams were no problem—it would be the most action I’d gotten in a long time, after all. “So now that I’ve taken this, can I go back to my room?”

He crossed his arms, clearly unhappy with that suggestion. “I’d rather you stay here. Thralls generally remain with their master, after all. What if I get lonely?” He batted his eyelashes as though seducing me.

“Then you’ve got your fancy lube. I know most thralls stay with their master, but not all. Just tell people I snore.”

He sighed loudly as if to prove the point. “Fine. You can sleep in your own room. In exchange, you need to return here to this room at sunrise and sunset so I can check in on you. You’ll take your pill at that time as well, so the bottle remains safely hidden here. Also, I took care of officially registering you as my thrall in the system today, so you’ll get a new outfit to show that status. It should work as a shield for you.”

“Thanks,” I said, holding the bottle out to him.

Kelvin caught my hand instead of taking the pills. He didn’t move, staring down at my hand, at my exposed wrist, at the lines of blue that showed where my veins ran. He lowered his head, and I froze, afraid to feel the strike of his fangs into my skin.

Instead, his soft lips teased my sensitive wrist. Just when had my wrists become an erogenous zone? Suddenly, the idea of staying here didn’t seem so bad.

“Make sure you come to me if you’re in trouble. This place is dangerous, and you’re drawn to trouble like insects to light. I don’t want to see you get burnt here.”

The problem? I was pretty sure Kelvin was the hottest burning thing around…

Chapter Eleven

That fuckwit, lying corpse!

The most creative of insults ran through my head even as I kept a placid smile on my lips, all directed at Kelvin who had failed to mention a very important detail.

Mainly, that the new ‘uniform’ he meant was a fucking collar!

It was bright red against my pale skin, and thick enough that looking down caused it to dig into the space just below my chin. Honor hadn’t handed it to me to check out, instead buckling it onto me like I was a stray who’d just gotten a home. Still, I’d spotted black embroidery on the back, and while I couldn’t read it, I was pretty sure it was Kelvin’s name in some language.

Like a fucking dog tag.

It meant that, even hours later, I couldn’t stop pulling at the leather. With my hood up, it was more difficult to notice, but the moment anyone spotted the red, they distanced themselves. It also meant I noticed others wearing collars as well, tucked beneath those hoods. They were in a number of colors, and the worth of the thrall seemed to go by the color of the collar.

I’d gotten myself removed from cleaning duty, which had me without much to do during the day. It left me here, in a central rec room, with groups of other thralls all seemingly equally bored.

I sat at a table with others playing a game I didn’t recognize. In fact, the cards weren’t even the normal playing cards I’d grown used to. They had symbols I couldn’t read, and the rules of the game escaped me.

Since we were in the private space, everyone had their hoods off. It let us more clearly see the collars of each other.

One thrall glanced at my collar, peering at the writing around it. “Kelvin’s, huh?”

My stomach rolled and a denial perched on my lips. I hated the idea of claiming I was anyone’s, but my life was worth a little humiliation, right?

My crow didn’t quite agree, but that was too bad.

“Yeah,” I answered.

The thrall who had spoken snorted, his blue collar stunning against his dark skin.

He sure didn’t seem impressed with Kelvin, but I’d seen that reaction before.

It was never outright rude, as if they didn’t dare, but most people so far had rested right on that line of disrespect.

“I don’t eat with riffraff,” he snapped then slammed his cards down and rose, storming off and out of the room. So much for not being rude.

“Well, wasn’t that dramatic?” I asked, follow him with my gaze.

“Can you blame him?” That question came from another thrall, a woman in a purple collar who was the sort of beautiful that made me want to give up on the whole looking-good thing. Some women made me want to try harder, but others? Like this one?

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