The Slave Palace: Wulf and Locke (Kingdom of Slaves Book 1) Page 14

  Well, that was something. Or maybe—everything.

  Chapter Fifteen – Locke

  What had happened to Wulf in the night had been a mistake. A mistake Locke had never made in his entire career, not even as a master-in-training. He had never left a collar on the high setting overnight. Not for any slave. Not for any reason.

  He still wasn’t sure this was his mistake, and his mind played over possibilities for an equipment malfunction.

  And why hadn’t Wulf taken off his leash before sleep? He’d been given permission to do so.

  Wulf lay on his side, hands pulled up to his chest, knees bent.

  Locke had folded the white sheet neatly over the edge of the blue spread and brought it up to the edge of Wulf’s shoulder. Wulf’s hair fell back from the side of his head and pooled in bronze curves against the white pillow. His breathing was smooth and even, now that the doctor had left.

  The doctor had agitated him, but Locke insisted Wulf be checked out.

  There had been no permanent damage from the collar going off for over a minute or more on the highest setting. But it had left Wulf listless, weak and tired.

  Now Wulf slept.

  Locke sat at the side of the bed in a chair, and turned on his phone.

  He kept checking the video footage of the moment when Wulf had gone into convulsions. It was hard to see in the darkness, but he could make out the sheets and the bed and the single figure upon it.

  The leash lay to the side of Wulf’s body on top of the covers. All Locke could see was that sometime in the middle of the night Wulf had sat up, the leash had gone taut, and Wulf had begun to convulse.

  The punishment lasted over a full minute, during which Wulf fell to the hard floor. Another camera angle took over from there, showing his body jerking helplessly, his limbs flailing.

  Locke watched it again and again, looking for what might be missing. Looking for a reason that the leash would become taut. Maybe it had caught on something unseen. Maybe it wasn’t that at all, and the collar simply short-circuited, then corrected itself.

  He studied the other images in the room. Every once in a while, he glanced about the room as it appeared in the daylight, then went back to his phone and looked through the shadows from every camera angle.

  Nothing.

  No one had entered the room. Wulf simply sat up for a while, then went into convulsions and fell to the floor. When Locke sped the video up, he saw that later Wulf seemed to rise to his knees by himself and climb back into his bed.

  Later, Locke planned to go to his private viewing alcove in his office and look at the bigger monitors. There, he could adjust the brightness, tweak the settings and maybe see more. For the moment, he refused to leave Wulf’s side.

  After about an hour, Locke got up and walked about the room, peering at the corners, the door, the carpet and tile. He glanced about the bathroom. Everything was clean, orderly. As it should be.

  He walked around the bed.

  Wulf moaned softly in his sleep and shifted.

  Locke pressed his hand against Wulf’s side over the covers, feeling the curve of his waist. “You are safe.”

  Wulf quieted. His breathing softened.

  When Locke slid his hand back, his fingers encountered a small, soft object. He bent closer, picking it up.

  In his palm lay a nearly burnt out cigarette stub, blackened on the end.

  Had the doctor dropped this from a pocket or satchel as he was examining Wulf? He didn’t know if Dr. Grunt—or rather, Dr. Torvalis—smoked or not. He’d never bothered to notice.

  Maybe the cleaning crew had dropped it.

  Well, this definitely was not Wulf’s.

  Locke pocketed the stub. Then he examined the bedcover. There was no burn mark. No ash. But he saw a darkened stain from the stub.

  The idea that someone other than Wulf or himself or the cleaning crew had been in this room nudged his mind.

  He had told Wulf he was safe. It was the truth. There were cameras everywhere. But—

  His thoughts simmered darkly. Cameras could be tampered with. So could computers.

  “Wulf,” he whispered softly to the air. “What happened to you?”

  Throughout the day, Wulf slept, rising only to pee, and once in the late afternoon, to take a quick shower. But he was still so worn out that Locke ordered him back to bed.

  “We’ll eat our dinner here,” Locke said. “Are you up for a movie?”

  “It’s all pornography, isn’t it?”

  Locke laughed low in his throat. “No.”

  Locke prepared everything for the evening, including the ordering of a meal from the Palace kitchen. Warm soup. Cheese toast. Bright silver dishes of ice cream for dessert.

  He dispersed with the TV locks that forbade Wulf from surfing channels, and brought up a movie.

  As they began to eat, he turned to Wulf. “Before I start the movie, I have one question. Please try to answer truthfully if you can.”

  Wulf had brightened a bit after another nap. His blue eyes were no longer blood shot. But his gaze settled on Locke, closed and untrusting.

  “Do you know of anyone who might come in here other than us? Other than the cleaners? Anyone who smokes?”

  There was a moment of hesitation. Wulf’s gaze dropped and his face notably paled. Though Wulf shook his head “no”, that was all the answer Locke needed to know that told him someone had invaded Wulf’s room and Wulf was lying to him about it. He didn’t want to push Wulf. Yet. But he would get to the bottom of this.

  For now, Locke pushed the start button on the movie.

  He said, “This is The Fast and the Furious. Have you ever seen it?”

  Wulf kept his eyes on his food and shook his head again. His broad chest rose and fell with quick, nervous breaths.

  Well, the next couple of hours would be a good distraction for him.

  “I think you’ll like it,” Locke said, and hit play.

  *

  “The time-date is rigged.” The tech looked more like a movie idol than a computer expert, with his white-blond hair brushed up at the forehead, curving thickly against his temples toward the back of his neck. He was short, small, but perfectly proportioned.

  The Palace kept civilians in its employ when necessary, people who were neither masters or slaves. People like Doctor Torvalis. And this man, Deke.

  “Is there any way to know when or who did this?”

  Deke shook his pretty head.

  Locke sighed.

  “I can tell the tampering was done from here and not somewhere else on the Palace computer systems. And that’s probably why. None of the cameras seemed to be working in the hallway or in the slave’s room at this time, no way to know who came in here and messed with your stuff. All the evidence would point to you doing the tampering since you’re the only one with access.”

  “And yet it wasn’t me.”

  “Do you have any enemies?”

  Locke frowned. “No. And the Palace has almost zero crime. Minor incidents only. Everyone is vetted. And cameras are everywhere.”

  “Except in the private residences of Eminent Masters,” Deke replied.

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “Big Brother can’t keep an eye on everyone, right? I mean, that would just be wrong.”

  Locke rolled his eyes. “The security system here is one of the most sophisticated in the world.”

  “I know. I help maintain it. But I’m afraid in this case, you’re stuck.”

  “Thank you for your help.” Locke walked Deke to his door.

  For a long time he simply stood in the middle of his room staring at his computer alcove where the screens were lit, showing Wulf’s room from all different angles. Wulf sat up in his bed watching the fourth installment of The Fast and the Furious. Locke had skipped the third as not worthy of watching and left Wulf to finish out the movie so he could meet the tech.

  But he had no more answers than he did four hours ago.

  Someone had
to go to a lot of trouble to do this. Now Locke wondered, was the target Wulf? Or himself?

  Chapter Sixteen – Wulf

  The next day turned cold, and Master Locke took Wulf to the indoor galleries where the live human sculptures were displayed when the weather worsened.

  Locke was placating him, no doubt, for the day Wulf had spent sick in bed. It was a neat trick. A ploy to make Wulf feel safe so he would cooperate and Locke would win his bet.

  It was strange and unnerving that Locke was so solicitous after Wulf’s punishment. But if he really wanted to show that he cared, he’d take the damn collar off Wulf. But that was never going to happen. Wulf was a slave until Locke was done with him, and then he would be sold with a file that marked him as dangerous and slated for a death penalty.

  Why had Locke lied to him and told him otherwise? He didn’t seem the type to stoop so low, to play such games, but then again, he was a master, an Eminent Master.

  He had to be the best at what he did to claim that title. And that meant he was a manipulator of the highest regard. Someone who lorded his power over lesser beings, and was not only good at it, obviously enjoyed it.

  As much as Wulf wanted to look at the sculptures, he forced his face forward and down-turned.

  Locke said, as if he did not notice Wulf’s indifference, “The groundskeepers work hard on the set up in here to make sure it reflects properly, everyone featured in their best light. They’ve done a good job, wouldn’t you say?”

  Wulf had ignored Locke’s small talk at breakfast. After the movies last night, which he’d actually enjoyed, he was more determined than ever to reject Locke’s overtures of friendship and pretend caring.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not even looking,” Locke said.

  “Why are we here?”

  “Because it’s lovely and you like it.”

  “I want to go to the training room.”

  Locke let go of Wulf’s leash. He circled around him.

  Wulf kept his head down and did not look at him.

  “Why?” Locke asked.

  “I want to get all of this over with. Just—I don’t want to wait any more!”

  “I don’t think you’re ready.”

  Now Wulf lifted his head. He had to see the look on Locke’s face. Was he joking? When was a slave ever ready to be raped?

  “I am ready.”

  “I made a mistake in taking you there your first day out. I have re-considered your file and everything in it. I have not handled one such as you before, and so this is new for me, too.”

  To Wulf’s mind, this was nonsense. It didn’t matter anymore how Locke handled Wulf, as long as he got results quickly and forced him to perform for Malik in order to win his bet.

  Wulf’s body shook with a sudden tremor at the thought.

  Instead of getting angry, Locke said, in his infuriatingly calm manner, “Do you need to sit down?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Locke led Wulf through the giant room, the size of two large ballrooms, with high curved ceilings painted with bronze stars and moons, and pale walls trimmed in gold.

  Only now and then did Wulf glance up. It didn’t matter what he did, though, he would be sold.

  But maybe, maybe if he performed well for Locke in the way of pleasure slaves, Locke would re-think his plan to sell him.

  As the day went on, during swims, meals and Locke’s desire to again tour classrooms—real classrooms—that taught everything from reading to history to advanced physics for slaves who showed any interest, all Wulf could think about was what Malik had told him.

  He’d have to perform sexually, and in front of Malik, willingly. All for Locke to win the bet. If Locke won, maybe he wouldn’t sell him.

  Wulf shivered again. He should have welcomed death. He’d be a martyr to his people. And it was an easy escape from this surrounding insanity.

  But now that he was well-fed, warm, with a comfortable bed, he’d turned weak. Yes, he did enjoy the sculptures. And swimming. And the movies last night. Locke’s presence at his side all yesterday gave him a weird sense of security he’d never known.

  Locke—who was going to sell him because he was a failure.

  At dinner, Locke said, “You’ve been quiet all day. The night before last took its toll, I know. I have taken measures to make sure that never happens again.”

  They were in Wulf’s rooms, as usual, sitting in their lounge chairs, eating and staring out at the city lights.

  “Humph,” Wulf said. He ate slowly, methodically, concentrating on every bite. But he could not distract his mind. He needed to train. He wanted to live.

  Then the other proverbial ball dropped.

  Locke said, quite matter-of-factly, “I know you have been dishonest with me.”

  The food Wulf was in the process of swallowing wanted to come back up. But he held it in, put down his fork and turned to Locke. He took several deep breaths.

  “What is it?” Locke asked.

  Wulf shut his eyes, opened them again. “I want you to bring me a consent form.”

  The fighter was gone. He was a disgrace. His own people would have instantly vilified him. Perhaps even imprisoned him. But everything was a trick. Everything. And he didn’t want to die.

  He watched Locke for a reaction. Only the eyes gave away any emotion with a dark flickering in their depths. As much as Wulf tried, he could not read Locke. He felt comfortable around him, but the new voices in his head told him it was all a ploy to win a bet.

  Locke took a deep breath. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  “I’ve told you.”

  “Tell me again.”

  “I want it done. Over. That part, at least. So I don’t have to think about it anymore. I want to know what’s coming. I want it done.” And then maybe, just maybe, I’ll live.

  “It’s bothering you even more now, the training room.”

  How he always managed to turn Wulf’s statements into weakness, Wulf didn’t know. He wanted to deny it. Deny everything.

  The lights of the city blinked like a strange, alluring seduction. White for purity. Green/gold for wealth. As if they were saying, Look how beautiful we are, but you can never have us.

  That was Wulf’s life now. Something lay before him that looked like a life. It breathed and moved and hungered and feared. It was never happy, but its instinct was still to survive.

  And then there was Malik. Who could not be allowed to win. No more denial.

  “Yes,” said Wulf.

  “Then perhaps you’re not ready.”

  “But I must be. I can’t bear waiting any longer.” He must survive.

  Locke sighed. An actual, long-drawn sigh. “Would you like to know what I’ve learned in the past few days with you?”

  Wulf started to shake his head. He stared into his soup before he softly uttered, “What.”

  “You are not to be trained like the other slaves, for you are not like them. I was going to treat you like all the others. I was going to put you through all the motions, ignoring your file and all it said about you. But you aren’t like them.”

  “Yes, I know. I’m being told constantly. I’m a danger. I should be put down.”

  “It means that I myself am experimenting with you.”

  Yes, Wulf knew this. The bet. The stupid, pervert friend. The outcome of being sold.

  “I do not want to be an experiment,” Wulf said. “I want consent forms. Then I want to be treated as any other slave here.”

  “You’re not the master. You don’t get to decide that.”

  Wulf faced him. “But do I get any say?”

  “Of course you do. That is exactly why I said what I just said. You are not to be trained like other slaves.”

  “That is your decision?”

  “Yes.”

  Wulf was silent. He didn’t know what to think. Locke behaved often as if he actually liked him. He definitely wanted him. And there was that bet. So why not the training room?

&
nbsp; “But,” Locke continued, “on the matter of the consent form, if you are of sound body and mind, you may have one. Otherwise, it’s not binding and we are back right where we started.”

  Well, Wulf didn’t have a gun to his head. His body was healthy today. He was under duress, yes, and placed in a nightmare situation, but his days had, so far, been easy. And aside from Malik’s intrusion, his nights had been undisturbed, peaceful.

  The fact that impending death loomed over his head was the real reason he’d asked. Why could Locke not see that?

  Perhaps he didn’t care.

  “I want to sign.”

  “I am reluctant. I think it’s too early.”

  “It’s not too early. I need to sign the form.”

  “This is against my better judgment. But if you think you need this, then tomorrow we’ll go over paperwork. Then we’ll see.”

  It would delay them further. Frustrated, Wulf said, “Why can’t we do it tonight?”

  “Because as your master I am ordering you to wait. If you are ready for consent, then you will not question my orders as a master to a slave.”

  Wulf said, glumly, “But I am ready now.”

  “You question me?”

  “No, but I am ready.”

  Locke merely chuckled. “I have another movie to show you. Not pornography.”

  Which confused Wulf more, because why did Locke want to spend all his time with him? But when Die Hard began to play, he was riveted. He could not look away.

  *

  They sat at a long table in what looked like a boardroom. Files of papers, as well as two tablets, sat before Locke. Wulf felt entirely out of place, naked and ready to sign all his freedoms away forever. If, that was, he lived.

  Two nights in a row now he’d slept with no interruptions. No Malik. Though Wulf had said nothing, security had improved. Or Malik had grown bored with the whole thing.

  A solicitor had already been in, and gone through the long document marking each page Wulf was to sign. He would mark his thumbprint as well into the computer file on the tablet.