King Lucien watched her silently. Seeing her flushed face that only got worse with
each stroke on the wet rag on his body. He would have smiled at her discomfort if he
could still remember how to do that.
What surprised him was that the urge to allow his lips to stretch to something so
unfamiliar as a smile was there. His brows knitted more into a bigger frown at the
urge.
Where was such an urge coming from? He asked himself.
Oh, Danika, you can’t get anything right. Now you’ve made him angrier, she
chided herself inwardly.
Finally done, she got up and took the water and wet rag away. She took her time
washing it and spreading it out on the towel racks of the enormous bathroom.
It was like a small world in the king’s chambers. Everything was in here; a person
could easily spend months and decide not to meet the sun. That was how King Lucien
had made his chambers to be. The king was a private person who loved his own
company more than anything. This chamber was his personal space-his personal
world.
When she left the bathroom, he was clothed and seated behind his desk. She took a
few seconds to watch him. His hand scrawl effortlessly on the scroll, his hair a mass
of curls around his head, his jaw set in a hard line and his brows knitted together in
concentration.
He was a handsome man. So savage-looking and scary. Danika’s heart fluttered
and tears suddenly burned the back of her eyes. She had fallen for him. She didn’t
know when that happened-how that happened. But she had fallen so in love with
him, and the realisation suddenly made her want to look for a quiet place and cry.
It should never have happened. He was her captor. The man that enslaved her. He
had hurt her many times. But why was she so in love with him? Why was fate so cruel
to her?
A slave never fell for her master. It was a sacrilege and never ended well for that
slave. It would only make things worse for her.
He was the king. The same man her father destroyed and damaged to tiny bits and
pieces. The man that hated her more than he hated his past. She was Danika, and he
was King Lucien.
Why did this have to happen?
“Danika.” The sound of his voice startled her and her mind came back to her body.
He was focused on her, frowning, and she noticed tears were falling from her eyes.
She quickly wiped them away.
“Yes, Master?” she whispered.
His mouth opened to say something. Then he snapped it shut. Silence descended.
Whatever he had wanted to say, she would have sworn that it was something he never
wanted to, and that was why he snapped his mouth shut. Then he focused his gaze
back on his scroll. “You can use the bathroom to wash your body.”
It surprised her. He was letting her use his bathroom? Did she hear him right?
“Master?” she trailed off in a question.
“Do you want to stink on your way to your bedroom?” he growled without staring
at her.
She wanted to remind him that her bedroom was four doors away from his. She
didn’t dare. “No, Master,” she said instead.
“Then you may use the bathroom,” he said dismissively.
She thanked him and headed for the bathroom. A slave did not use her master’s
bathroom; it was unheard of. What was going through his head? She didn’t allow
herself to question it for long. She was grateful because she wasn’t comfortable in her
own body anymore.
Long minutes later, Danika stood in front of him again with her clothes on and her
massive blonde hair dripping wet. She lowered her head. “May I go now, Master?”
“You may.” He folded the scroll he was working on and reached into his bag for a
brand-new one.
She bowed again and turned towards the door.
“Danika.”
She turned to him. “Yes, Master?”
He didn’t say anything for a long time. She allowed him his silence, letting him
sort out his words. She’d wait as long as he needed. It didn’t matter because it gave
her more time to gaze upon him. She didn’t want to be away from him. She wanted to
be close to him. She would do anything for this damaged, immense man behind the
writing desk.
Tears burned her eyes again. Despair burned her heart. Love was not supposed to
hurt. But this was forbidden love. This love already hurt.
The king raised his head at last, and his eyes met hers. He opened his mouth and
hesitated. “Would you like to go on a walk with me this evening?” he said at last.
Her heart skidded to a stop. And then it ran away.
He wasn’t giving her orders. He was asking her. He wanted to go on a walk with
her.
“I would love to, Master,” she whispered.
He nodded and faced his scroll again. “Evening.”
“Yes, Master.” Her heart was still racing as she faced the door again.
“And Danika?”
She turned again. “Yes, Master.”
“Just for the evening, I will be your ‘king’ and not your ‘master’.”
She couldn’t believe she heard him right. But she did. Tears clouded her eyes then.
This evening, she would not be his slave. She would be one of his people. He was
allowing her to be one of his people.
Suddenly, she remembered the first day he visited her in her cell after he’d
enslaved her. She’d called him ‘my king’ and he had punished her for it. He was so
angry, his eyes filled with loathing.
“I am your master. I can never be your king, Slave! I am a king to my people.
Never to you!” he had snarled at her in rage.
Today, he was giving her permission to be one of his people, just for the evening.
“Thank you, Master.” She bowed her head, her heart feeling light.
“You can go now.”
Karandy was most surprised when he opened his door to see the royal mistress
standing at his door.
“Mistress,” he greeted with his head bowed. What was the mistress doing there?
“You are the former slave trainer of the mine downtown; you are Karandy. Am I
right?” she asked.
“Yes, Mistress.” Karandy couldn’t stop wondering why the royal mistress was
there in his place.
“Then let me in,” she stated. Already, she walked past him, entering the small
house, leaving him to follow.