At His Throat, a Promise (19 page)

“I thought I was more, too. More to him, I mean. Not just a slave.” Harte"s voice was barely more than a whisper. The bubbles didn"t even shift around his face, so soft were his words.

“You think that if he… cared more about you that he would have been able to help Gabriel? Don"t you think that"s a little…

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self-centred?”

Harte laughed a little. “Maybe. I don"t know. This is going to sound so stupid, and I don"t want you to say anything, all right?

Not to anyone.”

Ellis nodded solemnly, and Harte stared into the bubbles. “I love him.”

“Oh, Harte,” Ellis whispered. “I know.”

Harte buried his face in his hands. “It"s obvious, isn"t it? I don"t… don"t try to be.”

“It isn"t at first. At first, you just seem like a really good slave.

Good like you enjoy it, maybe not good like… subservient.”

“Do you think less of me for falling for him? For being weak?”

“I think you"re
brave
, not weak,” Ellis protested. But how much hurt was Harte inviting just by putting his heart on the line?

More than Ellis could ever imagine risking.

“But you wouldn"t fall for your master, would you?”

“I don"t have one,” Ellis reminded him.

“If you did? Or what about Master? I mean, I"m not crazy, right? He"s a good man.”

“He is,” Ellis said. “The best master I"ve known by far. But I couldn"t love him.”

“Why not?”

Because he’s yours.
“Because I"d be too scared. My place is uncertain.”

“My place isn"t all that certain either, you know.” Ellis"s disbelief must have shown on his face, because Harte scowled at him, though it wasn"t heartfelt.

“I meant, once I turn twenty. I might work in the same office as Master but it"s likely I won"t. And then I might never see him again.”

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“Master Alex still sees his old master,” Ellis reminded him.

“But it isn"t the same. They would talk about their slaves. I couldn"t ever be a master.”

“Why not? I think you"d be good at it.”

Harte laughed, clear and high. A playful splash of water hit Ellis"s chest, and he growled at Harte, making the other slave burst into giggles.

“Come in here,” Harte said, serious again.

Ellis stripped off his wet sheath and hung it on the back of the door. Harte moved to the side so Ellis could slide in lengthwise, and they lay on their sides against the slope, facing each other and pressed tightly together by the confines of the tub. Harte was slippery and soft all over, making Ellis bite back a groan.

“Why wouldn"t you be a good master?” Ellis pressed.

Harte curled into Ellis"s arms, tucking his head under Ellis"s chin. “Could you see me punishing someone with a whip? Fucking someone?”

“You said you"ve fucked before.”

“Yeah, but that"s for the Master. I"ve never really wanted to. I mean, I get the appeal. But when I think about what I"d
rather
have… ”

“You know, there"s no rule that says masters have to do the fucking. Do you think that if Sir hadn"t been born in Menson, if he"d been a slave, that he"d be the one to get fucked?” Ellis couldn"t picture it. He himself liked both very much—when it was William doing the fucking. He"d only ever been inside Harte, so he didn"t have much experience with that, but he imagined it might be pretty well the same. A tight, hot hole. But to be fucked, the person had to be somewhat talented and had to care enough about you to make it good. William always made it
really
good.

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“I can"t imagine him bending over for anyone,” Harte said, almost like he was proud of William for that.

“Exactly. And it"s not like every single person who works a professional job like slaves are trained for
wants
to be the one to fuck someone. I"m absolutely positive there are slaves whose job it is to do the fucking. After all, it works that way when women have male slaves, and there"s no stigma about that, is there?”

“I guess not. But that"s not really the point, anyway. I want to stay with Master. I don"t want my own slave. I don"t even want, you know, a girlfriend or anything like most people have if they don"t have slaves.”

“Have you ever been with a woman?” Ellis asked, suddenly curious. He hadn"t and he didn"t really have a desire to.

“Yeah. It"s all right. Not the same. I mean, I know I"m not huge or anything, but I feel like I"m going to hurt them.” Ellis tried not to laugh. His old master"s female slaves were tougher than Harte on his best day. “Well, you"re only, what?

Seventeen? You still have a lot of time with Sir before you have to worry about what comes next.”

Harte sighed a little, but then brightened and said, “Speaking of what comes next… ” His hand slipped in the scant space between them, teasing Ellis"s half-hard cock with elusive fingers. It was hard to be so close, and so naked, around Harte without it affecting him.

“Stop a second,” Ellis said quietly. He really wanted to talk about Harte getting over his idea that the master was perfect. He wanted that sense of security and peace in the house again, not this anxious, uncomfortable hesitation between William and Harte.

“I love watching you come,” Harte whispered. And then he was mouthing Ellis"s throat, nipping enough to make stinging little 161

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counterpoints to the throbbing in Ellis"s cock.

Later,
he thought dazedly as Harte"s thumbnail dipped into the slit on his cock head.
We’ll talk about this later.

* * *

Nor was he in Ellis"s.

Ellis didn"t dare open the door to the master"s room, but he was sure he wouldn"t find Harte in there, either.

Bored and eager for the master to return, Ellis waited in his room, looking out the window much as he had that morning. He did love the view, though he"d prefer one of the front yard so he could see if the master was coming down the driveway. His view consisted of the right half of the backyard. He could see most of the pool, though an overhang hid the rest of it as well as the patio.

A flash of white near the abrupt line of trees had Ellis swearing under his breath.

Ellis bolted down the stairs and out the back door, pausing briefly to consider telling Nell where he was going—he hadn"t forgotten Harte saying he"d gotten lost in the forest and Nell had rescued him.

Now it seemed Harte had something similar in mind.

“Harte!” he shouted once at the tree line, twigs digging into his feet and making him wish he"d grabbed his sandals. He hardly ever needed them, though, and hadn"t even thought of it.

There was no answer from within the trees. Ellis looked longingly back at the house, but Harte couldn"t have gotten that far 162

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ahead in the seconds it had taken for Ellis to make it outside.

The first step into the forest was tangibly different. There was a weight on him, the canopy of trees and underbrush making him feel tiny and very, very young. He thought he saw the outline of a bare foot and followed in the direction it faced.

There were all types of trees, the names of which Ellis could only vaguely remember from his intrepid childhood. Birch. Pine.

Oak? There were pinecones, and those quickly became Ellis"s least favourite thing in the world. His shoes had been
right
by the front door. He"d practically passed them at the bottom of the stairs. The only thing that stopped him was the thought that Harte also didn"t have shoes, and if anyone needed shoes more than Ellis, it was Harte.

That sentiment was true for a lot of things, Ellis realised. Harte just… needed more. In general.

“Harte!” Some sort of bird squawked indignantly at Ellis"s strident tone, but Ellis didn"t care. He had to find Harte. And what was the other slave
doing
, going into the forest when he knew it was off-limits? When he knew he could get lost? Was he
trying
to get lost? He couldn"t be trying to run away… could he? Wouldn"t going up the driveway make more sense? Ellis had no idea.

He"d been walking so long that the sun was making a case for setting, which forced him to realise that it could become very dangerous in the woods at night. Would getting himself lost
and
not finding Harte be better than just turning around? But what would William say if he heard that Ellis had gone into the woods and then returned, leaving Harte there alone? And Harte must be scared by now; he wasn"t made for this sort of stuff. Neither of them was.

He called Harte"s name again, and his voice broke halfway 163

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through. He was scared.

Clenching his fists in frustration, Ellis stopped and strained his ears, desperate for just
one
noise, something that would make him feel less alone.

And he got his wish, though not in the way he wanted. A distinct noise—a sob—drew Ellis"s attention. It came from deeper into the forest and slightly west. Ellis, not even feeling the multitudes of cuts on his feet, stumbled toward the noise, determined to haul Harte out of there and beat him soundly and then hand him over to William for more of the same.

He almost went too far before he saw the distinctive white of the slave sheath and turned back. Harte was on the forest floor, his back against a tree. His knees were drawn up and his head resting on them. Another cry rent the otherwise eerie silence.

“What"s going on, Harte?” Ellis asked, trying not to let the frustration he felt come through in his voice.

“When you were getting the punishment… ” Harte"s voice was broken; he wouldn"t look up. “Didn"t you ever just want to run away?”

Ellis sat cautiously, careful to cover his bare behind with the sheath so the pinecone violation didn"t reach epic proportions. He wrapped his arms around Harte and hauled him in, uncaring that he resisted at first.

“I thought about it for maybe two seconds.”

“You"re going to say, „Because I knew how good I had it," or something, aren"t you?”

Ellis shrugged. “It"s the truth. I know you know, but the world out there can be scary. There are people who don"t care that you"re sweet and funny and adorable and sexy as hell. They"ll just want to use you up until there"s nothing left, take away that sweet 164

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Harteness
that makes you so special.” Harte was quiet for a while, and Ellis had to lean in to hear his next words.

“I thought they had already.”

“At the Facility?”

“And my old master. I thought they"d taken… everything that made me who I was until I didn"t even know anymore. I didn"t give up, but I
wanted
to. Every day. And then Master
saved
me.

There"s no other word.”

“But you didn"t let them win, did you?”

“I would have. Eventually. No one can go on like that forever.” Ellis had nothing to say to that. He was right, of course. Even Harte would have lost himself eventually.

“So why are we in the forest at this hour?” Ellis asked, trying to sound casual but easily hearing the knife-edge of panic in his voice.

“You"re a good slave, you know,” Harte said as if Ellis hadn"t spoken. “I know you think I am, but you"re the better slave. More obedient, more aware of the boundaries. You help Master, but I only make Master help me.”

“And this is solving that?”

Harte let the back of his head hit the tree trunk. “No. This is me being selfish and self-indulgent.”

Ellis didn"t have to agree; it was implied. “Can we go back?”

“I"m scared.”

“Because of what Sir will say?”

“Because of what he
won’t
say.”

Ellis knew then that he"d been right about Harte—he craved punishment, and he wasn"t getting it, so he acted out to force William"s hand.

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“You need to trust him,” Ellis insisted, “to know what you need, to give it to you. To know
you
.” Harte didn"t say anything, but his shoulders shook and he buried his face in Ellis"s chest, which became suspiciously damp.

“Do you want to go back now?” Ellis asked. The sun had almost completely set, and if it hadn"t been for the nearly full moon, the forest would have been too dark to navigate. As it was, the trees overhead made the light scarce enough to worry Ellis.

“Yeah. Do you think Master will be angry with me?”
I hope so,
Ellis thought.
For your sake
. “You"ll be in good company,” he said wryly, though he wasn"t concerned about himself. Any punishment incurred was deserved. He should have told Nell. And it was worth it, for who knew what might have happened to Harte if Ellis hadn"t gone after him.

Harte stood abruptly. “I won"t let you get in trouble!” Ellis accepted the proffered hand and lurched to his feet, which were agonizingly sore. “Harte, you"ll do nothing, you hear me?

Nothing to stop Sir from doing whatever he deems fit to us. If you ever want things to get better between the two of you, you need to submit and mean it.”

“I do mean it!” he cried, stumbling a little and letting Ellis balance him.

“Maybe you think you do, but there"s more to it than just offering yourself.”

“Oh, and you"re going to tell me everything I"m doing wrong, right?” Harte said, sneering a little, the look marring his pretty features.

Ellis grabbed his hand. He wasn"t going to fight with Harte in the middle of the forest. “No. I"ll give you advice if you ask, but I"m not going to criticise you. I think you know what you need to 166

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do, really.”

Capitulating easily, Harte squeezed his hand. They walked in silence before Harte blurted out, “I"m sorry I said you were disloyal. When Gabriel left.”

Ellis had pushed that to the back of his mind. It had stung more than he"d thought possible, coming from another slave. If the master had said it, he would have been devastated. But hearing it from Harte hurt almost as much, and that surprised him.