Page 98 of Nine-Tenths
Suspicion niggling, I open the closet. It's a walk-in, which doesn't surprise me, given the number of outfit combinations I've seen on Dav. Whatdoessurprise me is the section at the front. It’s filled with dark-wash jeans, long-sleeve tee-shirts, a few dress shirts and V-neck sweaters, all in my size and colors.
I mean…
It's... thoughtful, right?
But also, just a little bit creepy?
Not up there with the worst gothic romance stuff I've read but… yeah, okay, I'm gonna decide to be flattered by it. It means he was living in hope. He'd been told we were never supposed to see each other again, but he laid in supplies anyway—clothes, lube, fussy little towels, and I bet my favorite shave gel is in the bathroom. I don't know when hegotthese clothes (did Sarah have to go shopping for them? God, there's fresh packs ofunderwearon the built-in shelf next to the hangers) but the fact he didn't throw them away means he had hope.
Hope that we wouldn't be separated forever.
Okay.
It's overstepping.
But it's also sweet.
Overstepping for a human, I remind myself.Not for a toppy, possessive, service-kinky dragon.I guess? It's not like I have any other Favorites to compare notes with.
Will I meet other Favorites? I hope so.
It would be nice to have someone whogets it.
If any of themgetit.
Stop thinking about it, I scold myself. Today will not be ruined by me being grumpy about a few teeny tiny legal technicalities.You woke up happy. Stay that way.
Just think of the look on Gem's face when you tell her the sunrise alarm clock worked.
As our plans for the day apparently include tromping all over the farm, Dav is in honest-to-god blue jeans with a lumberjack plaid shirt. His ass in those pants makes my mouth so dry I need to drink two glasses of water before we go downstairs.
Breakfast, Dav tells me, is usually a spread for everyone on the estate. But because he'scrazy, we're too early for it, and we'll have to fend for ourselves. And because Dav’s PA is clearly as insane as he is, Sarah beat us down, and the kids—Nathaniel and Martha, both good Loyalist names—are stirring up a pot of porridge. Dav and I both accept a bowl, topped with maple syrup and cream, and join them at the table as the real sunrise crawls above the horizon. It paints the vineyard gold. I want to knoweverything about the way Dav runs the agricultural part of his estate, but my brain is nowhere near online enough to ask.
"It's too early," I complain theatrically. "Don't wanna."
"Master Tudor is always up earlier'n this," Martha tells me, and I bite my tongue.
No.
She doesn't mean it like that.
‘Master’ is just a polite way to refer to a… a young, unmarried man.
Fuck.
Dav looks both startled that the kids noticed, and ashamed. "I was up early so I could spend the mornings with Master Levesque," Dav says carefully.
"Then he stopped gettin’ up at all an’ sleeped all day," Nathaniel adds.
"Master Tudor was feeling ill," Sarah tells the boy, in a tone that saysWe talked about this. "But he's better now."
Sleeping too much is a sign of depression,the voice in my head that sounds like Dr. Chen reminds me.But sleeping a lot is also probably a way to heal from being whipped.
"Master Levesque," Martha starts, "I think you—"
"No," I blurt, interrupting her. "I want to hear what you think, but, no, decidedlynotMaster anything. Just Colin."
Martha looks to Dav, dumbfounded. Then to her mother. Both give her a look that says 'humor him.'
