Page 57 of The Gambler's Prize
“I hope so,” Florian says.
He gives a shy, winning smile. The crowd goes wild for him. But he’s mine now. I won’t allow him to risk himself in this silly game, no matter how skilled the archer. I push forward to put a stop to this nonsense, and trip over someone’s foot. I land flat on my face. For a few moments I can’t get up again in the press of the crowd. The show moves fast. By the time I regain my feet, Florian is kneeling at one end of the stage with a traditional Galbravan hat on his head. The archer is at the other side of the stage, aiming. My chest turns to ice. Then the arrow flies like a bullet and rockets straight for Florian. It flies through the center of the hat. Florian leaps to his feet, untouched, holding the hat aloft, showing off the hole caused by the arrow with a big smile on his face. I can breathe again. My prize is safe. My kneesalmost collapse with relief as the crowd roars and thunders for Andro the Archer and Florian.
“Well done, young man,” the archer yells. “You are brave indeed. But are you ready for the next challenge? Are you ready for the crossbow?”
A crossbow? Oh, fuck, no.
“I’m ready!” Florian yells.
I recognize that wild, reckless look on his face from the casino. He’s dangerous in this mood. Well, not anymore. Not now that he’s mine to protect. I run up onstage toboosfrom the crowd and grab Florian’s arm, staying between him and that damn archer.
“Boss? What the hell?” he says. His annoyed pout isn’t flirty this time. He’s pissed off. I’m ruining his moment in the limelight.
Tough shit.
“This man is my indentured servant,” I yell at the archer. “And I didn’t give permission for this game.”
To prove it, I grab our contract from my pocket and show it to them. Florian presses his lips together, with a look of dismayed betrayal on his face. Maybe he finds it odd that I carry the contract around. But I need to prove that he’s mine. I won’t let anyone take him away from me. The archer reads the contract, then looks at the comedian, uncertain. The comedian shakes his head. They all know the rules here in Galbrava. Arguing with me isn’t worth the risk. The comedian starts riling up the crowd again, asking for another volunteer. I lead Florian down the steps and off the stage. He puts up no resistance but his arm is tense in mine; he’s upset with me. The crowds’ jeers get louder, and they’re all aimed at me. Yells oftyrantand other much less complimentary things reach my ears. This is what I get for bullying the crowd favorite. A few bread rolls and other snacks are thrown. I block Florian from any stray flying food, growlingat the crowd and forcing my way through until we’re out of the melee.
Florian and I look at each other, catching our breath in the heat. Sun bakes the road of ground-down red earth, and it’s as though even the inanimate objects are crying out for a drink. I’m beginning to overheat. Florian looks hot too, his face red with too much sun and probably anger. I lead him out of the noise and confusion toward a quiet backstreet to give him a chance to calm down. Will he still be still speaking to me after that display? I fully invoked all of my legal power over him, in public. It must have been humiliating for him. The backstreet is cool and shady compared to the square, which is a relief. Florian looks up at me, his eyes refocusing in the dim light.
“I just wanted to finish the show,” he says.
“You’re lucky you don’t have an arrow sticking out of your head.”
“I was in no danger. Andro the Archer never misses.”
“Well, that wasn’t your call to make, was it?” I step closer, scowling, forgetting my resolve to let him calm down. “It was mine. You’re my servant. In this city, to all intents and purpose you belong to me.”
“And you’ll never let me forget it,” he mutters.
His eyes are stormy, the blue reminding me of a restless sea, but his neck is flushed. He seems a little breathless. The heat? Or something else? I remember how he kept calling me Boss even after I told him to stop. How much he loved being spanked. How submissive he was last night.
Is he turned on?
“You can tell me what to do all day long in this town and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it,” he says. He runs a frustrated hand over his hair. “It’s… it’s so unfair.”
“If it’s so unfair, why are you all flushed?” I ask.
“The heat,” he says, flushing even more. “It’s-it’s hot out.”
I close the distance between us, backing him into the wall. His lips part, ready. I kiss him hard, rough, holding him tight. He melts into me, pressing his body into mine. Both of us are getting hard, fast. Remembering where we are, I pull back. He’s even more breathless now, hair all over his eyes, but my hold on his arms prevents him from brushing it away. He looks messy, overwhelmed, overpowered.Mine.
“You will not volunteer for such dangerous games without asking my permission,” I say. “You hear me?”
“Yes, Boss,” he says.
“I’m serious, Florian. You will obey me whether you like it or not, or I’ll—”
“I know you’re serious.” He gazes up at me. “I like it.”
“You didn’t used to like it when I told you what to do.”
“That was when you were all nasty and sarcastic. This is different. This feels like it’s because you care.”
I look away. I don’t want to think too much about whether that might, in fact, be true.
Instead, I say, “You’re so submissive.” I smirk down at him, letting my eyes linger on his erection which is obvious in his little tight breeches.
