Xavier

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Xavier’s POV

When my jet had landed and I had taken in the misleading beauty of the shoreline of the Gulf of Mexico, I tried to absorb as much sunlight and fresh air as I could before having to deal with the stale, depraved nature of the Oscillius Estate.

My first impression was that it was large, gaudy, and had way too much help--much like the boisterous King that ruled it.

To be quite frank, I'd spent most of my time within the walls wanting to catch the first flight back to Italy.

Between Semerov’s daughters attempting to gain favor with me at every turn—as they’d been trained from birth to do with every young Prince meant to ascend the throne—and this bumbling i***t named Turk who had been placed in charge of showing off the grounds and various slaves they thought I might find to my liking, it was a truly wretched experience.

The only worthwhile meeting so far had been with a maid named Emelie.

Bruised, clearly having endured a recent beating, I quickly realized that, just as Chieftain Eos had described, all of the high stone walls weren’t there to keep enemies out but, rather, to keep all of their slaves in.

Hollowed eyes, underweight—they now lined the walls of the ball, heads bowed.

It was a ghastly display.

Cortez Oscillius may have thought he was showing off his prowess as a “wealthy” King but all I saw was abuse and poor management. It was no wonder he'd been so desperate to broker a deal with me.

“So? Aren’t they wonderful?”

Wonderful? The troupe of girls Turk tried to impress me with were plain, feeble things. As badly as I felt leaving them in their current masters lacking care, I pivoted sharply, going back to the girl whose nose was still dripping blood onto the floor.

Emelie.

She was a tiny thing, probably partially due to malnourishment, but I'd recognized her immediately. Taking my place in front of her, I was at least a foot taller than her and, watching her shift her weight under my gaze, I could feel her nerves spike at my proximity. Leaning down abruptly, I felt her tense, heart rate accelerating as I sniffed at her. She wasn’t bonded to another so at least that made things easier.

Gripping her small throat, I used my thumb to tilt her head back, finally taking in the caramel eyes that had been locked on mine on the couch yesterday. Aside from the horrible bruising covering nearly the entire side of her face, she was a pretty thing. Clearly Latina with full lips, long lashes, and a thin face, I could imagine how nice she’d look all cleaned up.

Her stomach rumbled, catching my attention.

And fed, I thought with a frown.

“I’ll take this one.”

“She’s not for sale.” The human named Turk had said it with his full chest.

“I want her.” It was finite, then. Whatever I wanted, I would have.

“She’s an imperial slave—”

“And she’ll remain one,” I smirked, amused. She would be mine.

“Sir, you really can’t—”

“You wouldn’t want me to break the treatise, hm?” I let go of Emelie, my eyes flashing silver at the word “can’t”. It took a lot of guts for someone like Turk to attempt to tell me what I could and could not do when the foolish King that ruled him didn't even have that much authority. Glancing over toward Cortez Oscillius, I could see the panic that flashed across his face.

The information I’d been given must be accurate for him to look so flustered.

I found myself thinking what a pity it was that they allowed him to sit among us as a King.

The gutsy human, unaware of his masters worries, kept talking, “Surely, you wouldn’t—”

“Wouldn’t I?” I was still looking directly at Cortez, my eyebrow quirked in challenge.

He looked perturbed but nodded at the human who looked at a complete loss. Then Turk, the fool, got a devilish gleam in his eyes, stating, “One million. Our only offer.” Nobody in their right mind would spend one million dollars for a single measly slave, his expression seemed to be saying.

But, Turk didn’t know the importance of Emelie to Cortez.

Nor, I was certain, did he have any idea who he was dealing with.

With a smile, I accepted. “Deal.”

In that moment, the struck look that crossed Cortez Oscillius’ face was worth every penny.

. . .

“C-Can we walk slower?”

“Oh right,” I muttered, realizing my grip on her arm might be a tad tight. “Here.” Taking a step backwards, I placed my hand at her upper back, feeling her tense as I started guiding her toward the room I’d been staying at rather than dragging her along behind me. It was unfortunate, but I had a few things to take care of before we could fly back to Italy. “I forgot you have short legs.”

Head bowed, I noticed her trying to peek up at me without raising it.

I wondered what it must be like to have to keep your head down all the time. “Doesn’t that strain your neck?” I wondered. My kind wouldn't be bothered by such a thing but humans injure easily.

Flustered, she mumbled, “What?”

“Walking like that can’t be good for your posture,” I said with a frown. Paola would never approve.

Still staring at the ground, she mumbled, “Uh—”

“Stand straight.” It was a command and, unable to stop herself, I watched her straighten, finally lifting her head from that bizarre angle the slaves here were always slouched in. “Much better.”

“Y-you prefer that I stand straight?” She sounded confused.

This all must be very confusing for her. Poor thing. “Did you eat your candy?”

“Oh.” Immediately she held the handkerchief and candy up to me. It was clear she hadn’t used the handkerchief or done anything but hold the chocolate. Was she too scared to?

Taking them back, I immediately dabbed at her nose with the handkerchief, watching panic cross her expression, hand reaching up, probably to stop me, only to freeze there in the air. It was only natural she’d be terrified of me if her only experience with our kind was Ricco. “There. It’s soiled so now you can keep it,” I said, handing it back pointedly. She took it, moving to duck her head again. “Straighten up,” I reminded her.

She hesitated before fixing her posture, looking at the chocolate I was unwrapping.

Her eyes were glued to it.

For a moment, almost thoughtlessly, I moved the chocolate toward my mouth—there was a flicker of sadness in her eyes and, in that second, I almost felt bad for having teased her at all. Of course I wasn't actually going to eat it. She didn't have to look so melancholy. “Open your mouth.” It wasn’t a command, just a request.

Staring up at me through her lashes, she tilted her head back and parted her lips.

Something about the way she’d done it was kind of . . . I don’t know.

It caught my attention, I guess.

Popping the chocolate into her mouth, she immediately bit down on it, eyes fluttering closed, letting out a soft throaty sound.

Squinting, I wondered if she meant to seduce me.

Or was the chocolate just that good?

I doubted it.

Then again, she was just a starved, depraved human. How had I expected her to react to a rare treat?

When her eyes opened, she smiled. It was a nice smile. Then she saw that I’d been watching her, and flustered, turned away quickly. Pressing the handkerchief to her nose, standing straighter than before, she was alert once more and offering a very polite, "Thank you."

Amused by her overwhelming gratitude, I found myself wondering how she’d feel about the full bowl of candies I always kept in the jet.