Feral King (The Dominant Bastard Book 1) Page 3

  In the dark, Minnow whispered, “They say watching TV in your sleeping space can cause insomnia.”

  “Miss Korsgaard, no one is to be out of their room when everyone else is asleep, unless there’s an emergency.”

  She moved into the moonlit hallway. “Oh...I had no idea.” When she turned back to face him, she was a fragile outline of shadow.

  He was trying not to think of the way the woman on the movie had been looking up adoringly at the man she was sucking off because his mind was trying to superimpose Minnow’s anxious expression into the scenario. The fact that he made her nervous turned him on.

  “But why? I mean, no one leaves to go to work and there doesn’t seem to be set hours here, other than for dinner.”

  He gritted his teeth. “The rule is because that’s how I like things, and I’m fucking paying you to deal with my bullshit.”

  She backed a step, and the small show of deference satisfied him.

  “So you don’t like people walking around at night.”

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sounding sincere. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I’m not upset. There’s just a certain way things are done here, and although I expect you to follow the rules, I understand it may take some time for you to adjust.”

  Her chin rose slightly. “I’ve always been the kind of person who finds rules easier to remember if I know them. Even better if I know the reason for them.”

  “Miss Korsgaard, I’m the master of this house. I don’t explain myself. You will be obedient in all things, or you will leave.” He’d done his best to be polite and interact, but now he was reaching the end of his patience.

  She drew a shaking breath and the sound went straight to his hardening cock. Why was this turning him on? Why was she reacting to him like this?

  Sutton never should have brought a woman here.

  “Yes, Mister Leduc.” The girl inclined her head, and he wished he could see her face rather than only its outline. Her inflection on Mister when she said his name always sounded slightly like master. It was a whole word, all on its own, and not the vaguely polite short form of Mr. she used with other men. It turned him on. She turned him on. “Again, I apologize. Goodnight.”

  She moved away, the clean scent of her hair reaching him just as he thought it was safe to let his guard down. The girl smelled warm and slightly afraid. For a long time he sat in the darkness of the screening room, trying to block the memory of other footsteps outside his room, trying not imagine how beautiful it would be to hear Minnow cry.

  *

  They were taking too damned long in the kitchen. After a lifetime with people whispering behind his back, Severin’s first guess was they were discussing him, and his surliness since Church, Ilse, and the girls had moved. It was stupid for it to still upset him.

  Church had stood by him since the day he’d moved in when they were six.

  Church was the one who’d shared his mother with an unwanted child, and who’d pulled Severin, scratching and snarling, out of his shell of nonverbal, animalistic behaviors.

  Church had taught Severin to read, and gave him the play by play of the social parts of school in such detail Severin had felt as if he was there. He’d insisted Severin help with his homework and projects where no tutor who’d ever been hired for him could get him to speak, let alone learn. They’d played together, fought, got into scrapes, gone on adventures. Together they’d buried their mother. It wasn’t that Church was family. It’s that he was Severin’s only family. Sutton was now too, but Sutton had missed the early years. She hadn’t even known Mom.

  His brother had proven himself loyal beyond any shadow of doubt. This had been a chance of a lifetime – he’d had to go. However, that didn’t mean it wasn’t a blow to lose him.

  Ilse had been a threat to Severin’s relationship with Church, then each child, but it was the job that had finally stolen his brother.

  He hadn’t realized how lonely his life would be with Church gone.

  Aside from his usual interactions with Sutton, the only thing keeping him from complete boredom and despair were the projects he was working on, and tormenting Miss Korsgaard.

  As if on cue, the girl entered the room with a platter of meat and put it on the table. She smiled, but there was a hint of guilt behind it, as though they had, indeed, been discussing him.

  “Sutton will be here in a minute. She’s just putting the potatoes in a bigger bowl.”

  She sat in her customary chair directly across from him, even though there was no reason why she shouldn’t take Church’s closer seat now that he was gone. She was careful. She seemed to always be trying to read him.

  As soon as her gaze met his, he put his fingers on his fork and slowly slid it off the table. It hit the floor with a clatter. Such a stupid game. It reminded him of when Church’s daughters had started testing gravity by throwing things off their high chairs. He, too, was testing his new toy.

  She stared at him for a long moment, her cheeks flushing pink and hot. She was so easy to fuck with, and her reactions made him hungry for more.

  “A fork.”

  “Yes, Mister Leduc,” she said, voice quiet. “I’ll get you a clean one.” She swallowed hard, then stood, walked slowly to where his fork had landed. Her gaze stayed fastened to his the entire way over, but once she got to the fork, she looked down and didn’t look back up. She retrieved it far more slowly than necessary, her rapid pulse fluttering visibly in her graceful throat.

  By the time she rose, his cock was hard as hell and he had no fucking idea why. He kept doing things like this to her, and she kept letting him. She seemed to like it the same way he did. As though in a daze, she passed Sutton who was coming out with a bowl of mashed potatoes.

  “Severin, quit being a dickhead,” Sutton admonished. “You haven’t dropped your fork once in all the years I’ve known you, and for the past week it’s been every night.”

  “She likes being useful.” He shrugged innocently. “I’m just being friendly.”

  “Careful now,” she said, putting the bowl down by his elbow and handing him the spoon for the potatoes. “You don’t mind this one, but if you push her too hard with your peculiarities, she’s going to leave.”

  “The girl won’t leave,” he said, his lip curling in amusement. “I pay her too much.”

  Chapter Three

  “Do you have to be in here?” he growled.

  “Sutton wants me with you today.”

  Severin’s top lip curled but he didn’t order Minnow out. It was the first time she’d trespassed into his lair, and she and Sutton had both agreed he’d probably toss her out on her ass. This was progress. It was hard to work with a man who seemed determined to ignore her. Church had been gone a week, and Severin had barely said a word to anyone.

  Sometimes she caught him looking at her, his expression inscrutable. Usually his attention seemed to be distrust or irritation, but there were times she caught flickers of something else. Interest? Or maybe the fact that they were alone together so much made her see things that weren’t there.

  It was so wrong, but between his gruff commands and his imperious aloofness, the man triggered every submissive reaction she owned. Normally she had no problem resisting dominant men when she wanted to, but Severin Leduc was ugly and mean and dangerous, and had a beautifully muscled and tattooed body that she wanted to lick. The power that emanated from him was lethal in a way her brain translated as sexual, and she kept fighting not to think about how big he was and what he might do to her.

  Not that he would do anything. They’d been alone often enough and he didn’t so much as flirt. Forget flirting, he even flinched from accidental contact. She didn’t miss the way he kept meticulous space between them.

  And the rules. There were so many. Every time Minnow thought she had a handle on them, they changed slightly. Some of the rules applied to everyone. Many were only for her. Sometimes it felt as if he was grooming her to
be what he wanted in a companion, but sometimes his random demands felt like deliberate punishment for being in his space.

  “Sit in that chair,” he said, pointing.

  If she sat in the chair to the left or right of the one he indicated, he’d get pissy and make her move. There were times she did it on purpose, but she cut him some slack, considering he’d let her stay in the workshop.

  “Don’t touch anything.”

  “Yes, S – Mister Leduc.” Damn. That was close. There’d been so many times she’d almost called him sir without intending to. A hazard of her past two relationships being D/s. Hopefully if she ever slipped, he’d think she was just being extra deferential.

  He turned away and drew a glowing piece of metal out of the forge with a pair of tongs. The dirty canvas apron he wore over his chest did nothing to obscure his bare back. It was impossible to look away from the play of muscle under the collection of monochromatic demons tattooed over the wide expanse of his back and shoulders, blending into the ones on his arms. The demons fought, fucked, and ate each other, their faces twisted in agony and ecstasy, but it was the man who wore them that drew the eye.

  For ages she watched him heat the metal, bludgeon it with a hammer. As the reddish orange heat faded, he would slide the piece back into the forge. No small talk. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought he’d forgotten she was there. When he went back to working the metal, he switched the hammer to his left hand without any hesitation, completely ambidextrous in his work.

  The flex of his arms as he worked, beautiful and mesmerizing, had her fantasizing again before she realized she was doing it. Slowly, the piece took shape, the serpentine body and rearing head of a cobra rising gradually out of the hot metal.

  His big hands on the tools, with his scarred knuckles and thick fingers, had her squirming unintentionally in her seat as she imagined him holding her down, spanking her. She couldn’t imagine taking two of his fingers would be comfortable, and the rough calluses would hurt. One finger would be doable, but two? He’d have to be patient. She could almost feel the stretch of her pussy as he coaxed a second finger into her body, his cruel gaze focused on her as he forced her to take it –

  “If it’s too warm in here, Miss Korsgaard, go outside.” His voice startled her. “Are you prone to fainting?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Your cheeks say otherwise.”

  Her hands flew to her face, and the heat emanating from her cheeks was extreme. “Maybe I’ll take off my sweater.”

  He grunted and went back to work. She unzipped her hoody and drew it off then realized he was watching her even though he was still hammering the metal. When she looked up, she briefly met his enigmatic gaze before he refocused his attention on his work.

  “What?”

  “Your clothing is inappropriate.”

  She glanced down at her top and jeans, wondering what he was talking about. “You don’t like what I’m wearing?”

  “This isn’t a fashion show.”

  She laughed. “It doesn’t get much more casual than this – unless you have some rags I can borrow? Maybe a slave collar? Do I get to wear shoes or do you want me to suffer?”

  His hammer hesitated and he glanced up at her, the molten lust in his gaze nothing compared to the forge. He jerked his gaze back to his work and resumed hammering.

  Had she imagined his reaction?

  When he didn’t say anything, she wondered if she’d stepped over the line. With her kink friends what she’d said would have been considered a bit flirtatious, but unless Severin was kinky he should have rolled his eyes, at most.

  “I’d buy something more casual to wear, but with Church gone I don’t have a ride into town.”

  “Call a cab.”

  “They won’t come out here. I’ve tried.”

  “Where were you trying to go?” he asked, his tone blasé, but his expression alert.

  “Just to go see a movie.”

  He grunted. “You can borrow a car.”

  “I wouldn’t be comfortable with that.”

  “I’ll talk to Sutton. Maybe she’ll have a solution.”

  He worked for about another hour, and when he was finished, he tossed the snake on the table between them.

  “That look okay?” He pulled off his apron and went to the fridge in the corner and took out two beers, then put one down in front of her.

  She caught herself staring at his nipple rings just as he tugged on his T-shirt.

  “It’s beautiful,” she replied honestly, meaning the snake, but guiltily thinking about his chest too. Around the house, Sutton had pointed out his work – the support for a table, several statues, smaller sculptures. His work was primitive and fierce – too aggressive for the flow of the house, and yet the contrast was somehow attractive.

  He opened his beer and chugged it, then took the snake back from her and put it on a worktable along the far wall.

  “No beer for you?” he asked, pointing at her unopened bottle.

  “Well, I’m working. You’re my boss. It seems inappropriate.”

  He snorted and got himself a second beer. “I think if the boss hands it to you, you’re safe to drink it.”

  When she opened her beer, he nodded in approval. Her cheeks went hot, and she took a long pull from the bottle, the bitter aftertaste doing wonders to distract her from her perverse, subby crush. She downed it quickly, and gave Severin a look of apprehension as he put a second one in front of her before retreating to a seat on the other side of the room. The last thing she needed to be doing was lowering her inhibitions, considering how attracted she was to him. This job paid too well to take a chance of fucking things up, and it was so much better than schlepping coffee.

  He watched the way she put the bottle to her lips, but she pretended not to notice. She may have rubbed her bottom lip along the lip of the bottle, just to see if she was delusional, but from the way his eyelids drooped, he hadn’t missed it.

  Hot boss was checking her out, and the beer was making her giddy. Her thighs were numb.

  Why did she already have a buzz? Oh damn. No lunch.

  “So Church used to hang out in here with you a lot?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did he help out or just keep you company?”

  “Mostly company.”

  “Well, next time tell me if you want me to do anything.”

  “Anything?” He quirked a brow. “Careful now or I may have you doing things you’ll find unpleasant.”

  “Like what?” She arched her brow.

  Rather than answer, he picked at the label on his beer bottle, carefully not meeting her gaze.

  She drank the rest of her beer, then the third he thunked down in front of her, with awkward bouts of conversation interspersed. It was the most pleasant interaction she’d had with him since they’d met. Progress had seemed impossible only this morning.

  “Come with me,” he said suddenly. He rose and walked out of the garage. Confused, she followed, wondering if she should have grabbed her hoody.

  Without explanation, he walked through the grounds to the back of the property. She hadn’t realized how far the holdings extended. Even though it was a cold day, the treed garden and lawns were serene and lovely. On the way to wherever he was taking her, they passed a huge fountain with spouting dolphins and stone benches – all of it a complete surprise, hidden from the house as they were by the canopy of trees.

  When they reached the end of the manicured lawn, he kept going, taking an overgrown path through the woods. She hesitated then followed him in, the buzz she’d gotten from the beer making her reckless. If the man was dangerous, they would have told her, right? Or she’d already know?

  She followed him down the path, hopping over deadfall and puddles, jogging to keep up with his long strides.

  “Where are we going?”

  He didn’t answer, but stripped off his shirt. She slowed to a walk, trying not to stare.

  Why was he getting nake
d?

  Moments later she heard the quiet lap of water in the distance. They reached a gap in the trees and descended a gentle slope to a secluded beach. No road or other path led to where they stood. Across the expanse of water there was only trees and rocks, with no hint of civilization to mar the view. Birds wheeled overhead. The whisper of wind through the long grasses that flanked the few dunes made her decide she never wanted to leave.

  “Is this a lake?” The beer was affecting her mental processing times.

  “Yes.”

  “What’s it called?”

  “Mine.” He was watching her, and his lazy smile stopped her heart and sent all her blood straight to her pussy.

  Oh...the lake. Duh. Earth to Minnow.

  He toed off his boots, and stripped out of his filthy jeans, standing naked in front of her in all of his tattooed, pierced glory. Hell, the man had nothing to be shy about. She’d tried not to sneak a peek at his equipment, but hey, it was impressive and fucking pierced. And she wasn’t exactly a saint.

  “Every go skinny dipping, Miss Korsgaard?”

  “I...no.”

  He strode into the water, not flinching from the cold. They’d had unseasonably early frost overnight for the past few nights. There was no way she was going in there.

  Fuck. Naked Severin was bad news on the controlling herself front, especially when he turned to look at her over his shoulder and smirked before diving in. The man had an impossibly wide back that tapered down to a narrow waist, and a muscular ass that made her feel faint. And the tattoos? So many more than she’d anticipated. He came up with handfuls of sand and scrubbed the grit over his arms and hands, then smoothed his hands over his beautiful bare chest, then rinsed off.

  “Korsgaard,” he called, his husky voice making her self-control waver. “Let me get this straight. When I want you to leave, you stay because it’s good for rapport. Then when it’s something I ask you to do, you refuse?” He ducked under the water again and resurfaced moments later, much farther out.