Page 62 of Servitude to Serpents

“I’d like to continue my night, please, Sir. Just this once.”

I’m sorry, Pup.

“What is it worth to you?”

Her eyes perk up as she clasps her hands together in front of her. “I’ll make it worth it, I promise! I’ll, uhm…I—"

“You will wear your punishment collar for the rest of the night, and I’ll double your punishment tomorrow for drinking, regardless of how bad you feel. Do you understand?”

Her smile needles at my chest as she staggers to her feet. I don’t catch her in time before she slams into me, pressing her soft lips into mine. My entire body stills as she kisses me. The first kiss.Ourfirst kiss. The ridiculous woman doesn’t even notice. “Thank you, Sir! I’ll be so good, I promise!”

I don’t move when she runs from the room, not even when I hear her giggling with Mahari resume. I stand there with my heart pounding in my chest so hard, it’s trying to rip through. I barely breathe as I reach behind me, closing the door. Mere seconds pass, of me struggling, fighting for control, before slamming my fist into the mahogany wall. My knuckles crunch as my blood splatters the hand-crafted molding. I don’t stop until the feeling in my chest eases, until the memory of her kiss leaves my lips.

I’ve calmed by the time I entered the parlor. Andres is back to his animated self, looking at the wall-to-wall habitat of some of the world’s most deadly snakes as Pup stands in front of it, a cautious distance from the man, explaining to him which ones are which, what they’re known for and everything else she compiled about them. Pup knows more about the snakes than I do at this point. She still pouts every time I refuse to let her enter the room during feedings, let alone engagethem directly.

I watch her, everything about the woman screaming elegance. Ease. She could be a curator, explaining her favorite museum piece so far, separated from the wonton whore desperate for pleasure and praise I’ve made her to be. Like the gluttonous miserable bastard I am, I’m desperate to covet it all, despite knowing I won’t.

I can’t.

“You should really be softer with her. Affections would go much farther than punishment.”

I pull a calming breath through my lungs, ignoring the headstrong woman at my side. Of course, she couldn’t fucking care less about my lack of response.

“There's something so innocent about her,” Mahari continues. “Almost childlike.”

The look of disgust must be plain on my face as I glare down at her. “There is nothing childlike about her.”

She laughs. “You know what I mean. She’s so sweet, fragile, in a good way. A way I’d forgotten the world could be.You care for her.”

“As much as I care for any investment.”

That comment marks the end of whatever white flag she extended to me. “You don’t deserve her, much less her love.”

I stay quiet. There’s nothing to say, and we both know she’s right.

“She deserves more thanyou. She deserves a life with love and affection, one you are incapable of providing her.”

I turn on the woman, my hastily-wrapped hand stinging as I fist it. “Do not presume to understand what I can provide her.”

To her credit, she doesn’t flinch. “I simply do not wish to see the sweet girl destroyed any more than you do, but youwill,Basilisk. You will destroy what little spirit she has left. You could change that—"

“One more word, and you never see her again. Who will look out for the poor, abused Pup then, huh? Who will offer her a respite from the evil—"

“Master…” Pup's voice halts the anger in my chest as I turn toward her. Her eyes dartbetween us, her forehead lined with worry before she flashes that bright, jarring smile of hers. “I’m out of dream-sickles. Andres has never had one!”

The breath locked in my chest releases as I stalk over to her, gathering her in my arms. “Perhaps we can rectify that before he leaves.” I settle us in a chair, my staff bringing everyone—including a very bold Pup—another drink. Her body pressed to mine is a small respite, but she doesn’t stay long, wiggling from my arms after confirming my hand is okay to join her friend on the rug by the fireplace. Her pretty pale neck is red from her collar as Andres joins me, rolling into another story like he’d never stopped. Blissfully unaware of the pounding in my skull and the impending sense of dread settling on my shoulders.

Chloe

I groan, the woozy feeling roiling my stomach again as I try to get comfortable. The metal claws of my collar make that nearly impossible as I’ve regained consciousness. I don’t want to open my eyes; I don’t want to move, the tender flesh around my neck having long surpassed soreness. I feel like I’m on a Tilt a Whirl, and I’m desperate enough to indefinitely suspend my sleep to make it stop. My lips part as I wrench my eyes open, letting them land on a messy mop of speckled auburn hair. My head’s on Sir’s lap as he types furiously on his phone. The room around us has long since gone quiet. I only vaguely remember telling Mahari and Andres goodbye.

My heart does a silly little flip when his tired eyes leave his phone, finding mine, like some kind of pull brought them there. A flush creeps up my neck as I shoot up off his lap, only for my long, messy hair to be caught by his wrapped hand, holding me in place like a leash. The tug doesn’t hurt, doesn’t even really pull. It’s a passive tether, and I don’tmind it a bit.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” I clear my dry throat, my stomach still swirling from the alcohol. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

He sighs, his eyes still glued to his phone. “It was cute, I suppose.”

Cute.

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