His to Take (Mastering Melody Book 2) Read online

  That was when I found myself being forced to crouch between his legs underneath the long wooden dinner table…and discovered many other slaves in the exact same position.

  It made clear that while I might belong to the son, my status in this household hadn’t changed, and remembering that would be the smartest course of action.

  4

  Rohan took me back to his room after dinner, fucked me with the same ferocity as earlier in the day, only, this time, he bent me over the edge of the bed and held my face down on the mattress with his hand. Then, once finished, he trapped me on the bed with one of his arms and legs over my body before promptly falling asleep.

  I wasn’t even tired; the sun had barely set. However, laying there with nothing to do except stare at the ceiling, him, and occasionally around the room eventually bored me to tears, so I closed my eyes to try and sleep.

  Thankfully, I fell asleep shortly after.

  Morning brought no sign of Rohan and a tray of food waiting for me on the nightstand — the mushy oatmeal again, but a glass of orange juice and a small bowl filled with various fruit were included.

  I took my time eating, no idea what I would do with myself once I finished, and wondered why they left me alone even briefly in here. Were they that unworried about me attempting to escape or trying to roam freely?

  My answer came when I opened the door to go use the bathroom and saw a male guard standing at the end of the hallway. He watched me as I stepped out of the room and walked the short distance to the bathroom; he continued to observe me when I returned to the bedroom after a quick wash up.

  His presence answered my question — they weren’t worried and I wouldn’t have the chance to roam freely.

  Not too long after, Rohan’s father stepped into the doorway and indicated I should follow him with a wave of his hand.

  As I walked behind him, he began speaking in a harsh, uncompromising tone. “You are not free here because my son chose you, girl, and you will not act like you are. I allowed you to speak yesterday without consequence, but you will not do it again. Understand?”

  Swallowing hard, I gave the expected answer. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. If I had my way in this, you would be kept in the wing of the house with the few other women permitted to stay inside, but for the time being you will remain with Rohan.”

  He didn’t seem like a man who allowed much beyond what he wanted, so why was he letting me stay with his son? And for now? Did he expect it to change due to something he wouldn’t tell me? I knew better than to ask and he must not have expected a response since he continued after a brief pause.

  “However, when Rohan has no need of you, there will be work for you to do alongside the other women. Laundry, cooking, and cleaning every day, beginning at sunrise until after dinner. But that is not the repayment I spoke of.”

  He stopped in front of a metal door, opened it, and motioned for me to lead the way down the steps just inside. Sudden fear slithered through every inch of me as he followed me down, and thinking I would be put back into that tiny room for whatever reason had me shaking by the time we reached the bottom, where I was shocked to find a large room apparently used for medical reasons.

  My alarm heightened as I turned to him with a confused expression. “Sir?”

  A man in scrubs approached, grabbing my elbow and leading me toward the nearest bed without a word, laying me down on it while Rohan’s father watched. He walked closer as a strapped was placed across my neck, my arms were cuffed to the side of the bed, and my legs were strapped in the open and splayed position they used in examinations.

  “No need to worry,” he said, leaning in and pressing a kiss on my forehead as if in comfort, only to pull back with an arrogant and delighted smirk. “Rohan knows where you are and will see you again when everything is complete.”

  He left without explaining further and as the man who strapped me down stood over me, ready to cover my face with a mask, I shook my head and pleaded, “Please, tell me what he meant, what this is for.”

  The man’s lips flattened into a grim line and for a moment I thought he didn’t understand me, but then he spoke in a short, clipped response in perfect English. “Your body needs rid of the birth control given to you. You’re unable to breed until it is out of your system.”

  Breed? Oh god, his father was going to make me have babies with Rohan as repayment? Or were they his father’s children I was going to have forced upon me? Worse, I hadn’t seen any children here, so what would they do with the babies when they were born?

  “You will be pregnant before you leave this room,” he informed me while placing the mask over my nose and mouth, clearly enjoying the panic on my face. “But that isn’t any of your concern. You will sleep through it all…sweet dreams.”

  I passed out before I could have any more thoughts about what was happening at all.

  * * *

  Awareness slammed back into me.

  Gasping out of a dream I couldn’t quite remember, I sat straight up, only to acknowledge nothing held me down, and the sunlight lit up the room — Rohan’s room.

  It was as if the trip to the medical area hadn’t occurred at all, and at the soft sound of a growl, I turned to find Rohan frowning at me from where he laid beside me.

  He tapped his hand against the pillow and I returned to laying back down, wishing I could ask him questions about what happened. He took the opportunity to climb on top of me under the blankets and surprised me by pressing his lips against mine for the first time.

  Then, drawing away, he dropped his gaze to my lips and pressed one finger to my chest, prompting me to assume he wanted me to say my name.

  “Melody.” When he poked again, I said it again while drawing out the syllables because he watched me saying them with keen interest. “Mel-oh-dee.”

  He nodded, leaning in until his lips were against my cheek and repeated my name, making sure to do it slowly so I could feel each movement of his mouth.

  Not stupid at all.

  One of his hands came off the bed and slid down the side of my body before moving to rest on my stomach, the warmth and loving caress of his touch bringing tears to my eyes. Tears that escaped and trickled down to the pillow when he mouthed what felt like the letter B twice, but his action confirmed the truth of the man’s words to me before I passed out.

  Pregnant with his baby whether I wanted to be or not, and Rohan’s sudden gentle manner demonstrated his pleasure, leaving me confident this had been his plan from the moment he’d chosen me.

  I wouldn’t go back to the man who sent me here, and although that knowledge left me relieved at not having to deal with such cruelty, fear of the unknown crept in.

  This was my life now, and as Rohan gradually pushed himself inside my sensitive body with a contented moan, I wrapped my arms around his neck, clinging to him while accepting my new future with a fresh batch of silent tears.

  * * *

  Rohan’s father might have thought he had control over everything that went on, but his son proved him wrong later that day by refusing to let me out of his sight to perform the duties assigned to me.

  He stood in front of me with his arms crossed as his father bellowed from the bedroom doorway. It hurt my ears, but not once did he address me directly, aiming all his irritation at Rohan.

  When he eventually left, Rohan turned to me with a bright smile, his eyes shining with amusement. He didn’t fear his father at all, and I knew as long as it was him refusing to make me do things, none of the fault would be directed at me.

  Then he clasped my hand in his and dragged me over to his wardrobe, opening the doors and grabbing something from inside. Holding up a long-sleeved button-down white shirt, exactly like the one he currently wore, he let go of my hand to point at his mouth and then at the shirt.

  Guess Rohan wanted to learn English. “Shirt.”

  Although he mimicked the motion of my mouth, he didn’t actually attempt to say the word or make any sounds and
then offered the shirt to me. When I merely stared at him, not understanding what he wanted me to do with it, he pretended like he was going to put an arm in one sleeve, but then nodded while extending it out to me.

  “No,” I said with a shake of my head, objecting even though he couldn’t comprehend why. How far would his father let him push before it backfired? I didn’t want to find out. “I’m not allowed.”

  He snatched my left arm with a growl, shoving it through the sleeve before bringing the fabric across my back, and putting my right arm through the other. Then, he hauled me toward him by grabbing the front, until our bodies were touching, and captured my lips in a short bruising kiss clearly meant to show me who was in charge.

  Stepping back, he motioned for me to button the shirt up while closing the wardrobe, and although I knew his father would have something to say about this, I did as Rohan said anyway.

  It was strange to look down and not see the ribbons or piercings, or to move without feeling the tightness on my back; they must have all been removed during the time I spent unconscious since I noticed they were gone earlier after we both cleaned up post-sex.

  Doubtful I would ever know if Rohan made the choice to have them removed, or if his father had decided, but I was glad they were gone.

  The shirt reached mid-thigh on me, covering me up completely once buttoned, and after beaming with approval, Rohan practically dragged me out of the room with child-like excitement.

  Not for the first time, I wondered about Rohan’s age and didn’t think him much older than me due to the way he behaved. And yet, there was no doubt my maturity exceeded his, which caused my heart to ache.

  His manners, along with the actions he took with me, might not matter to him, but I knew him treating me differently would cause issues with the other slaves. He might have already with not letting me go work as his father directed.

  Maybe I cared when I shouldn’t. I did what Rohan said, and what he wanted mattered the most. Didn’t it? Wasn’t that what he, my original Master, wanted me to understand — that what he wanted was the only important thing I needed to remember?

  Despite that, I balked at being happy with how things have turned out. He might be a bit rough, but he didn’t seem inclined to hurt me. Yes, I remained a slave, and yes, my job was to please Rohan. Did that include smiling and laughing when that was the response he wanted? Or appearing to look forward to having his child because of how thrilled it seemed to make him, even if I knew nothing about what would happen when the time to give birth arrived?

  Things could change in the future. I had no control here and trying to figure things out had become exhausting with so many things changing in such a short period of time.

  Making a decision became easier when Rohan led us into the library, sat me down in a chair, and walked away to grab a book off the shelf.

  When he sat across from me, opened it up, pointed at the English words on the page and then at me, my heart stuttered at the realization he wanted me to read to him.

  He would read my lips and learn, and me? I did something at that moment that I knew shouldn’t happen — I began to fall for Rohan while completely aware of how one day, there would be hell to pay for my stupidity.

  5

  The months of my pregnancy passed by quickly.

  For a while, Rohan simply made me wear one of his shirts whenever we left his room, but something must’ve happened because a few plain, dark colored sundresses with expandable waists were delivered to the room one day.

  Communication between Rohan and his father continued to amaze me, and honestly confused me. How did a man who didn’t speak manage to get away with breaking what seemed like rules everybody else followed? I didn’t know, but he did, except for one thing — his father refused to let Rohan take me outside the courtyard of the house, and used guards to prevent it from happening at all.

  Luckily, he didn’t seem inclined to start a fight with the guards, so in the end, his father won that battle.

  As for between us, Rohan consistently made me tell him what things were in English. By halfway through the pregnancy, I could tell him many things and he knew what I wanted without me having to show him, such as needing to wash, or eat, or even that I didn’t feel well.

  His father seemed to give up on trying to treat me like a slave; I didn’t dare not act like one, though. When Rohan would go out to hunt or anything else that would keep him away for hours, I joined the other women to help with laundry and cleaning, although the tasks given to me were limited by restrictions on how much I could lift or carry. They were nice, but kept quiet around me, and I knew the fact I wore clothing wasn’t the only barrier between us.

  We were alike and yet, we really weren’t, and there wasn’t any use pretending otherwise.

  Rohan hadn’t been pleased the first time he found out I helped out. However, he didn’t stop me after I told him I wanted to do something, that it kept me busy when he wasn’t around.

  And in some ways, I told the truth, because it did keep me busy. Too busy to wonder if today was the day when things would go wrong and I would have to rejoin the rest of the slaves, none of whom were warm toward the slave who ended up in what they saw as a better situation.

  Maybe it seemed great from the outside, but I hated that they didn’t get how I was imprisoned too and had nothing to do with ending up in this position. I hadn’t thought my Master would agree to sell me, or that I would end up being claimed by Rohan, or that I would be forced to get pregnant and give him children who might very well run this fucking place one day.

  I resented them thinking that way because it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t begrudge them their feelings, however. I’m sure sleeping in a bed wasn’t something many of them experienced, let alone were they allowed to wear any clothing at any point in time.

  Understood why they felt that way? Yes, I got it. Even so, I envied them in one way — they knew their place. Rohan’s decisions stuck me in limbo, between the slaves and those in charge, leaving me walking a fine line when it came to what behavior from me would be considered acceptable.

  He took me to dinner and let me sit next to him as if I belonged there, especially when the pregnancy began to show and he wouldn’t let me kneel between his legs any longer. What did I do? I respected what I knew as my place by keeping my eyes downcast the whole time.

  I didn’t smile or laugh at him or his antics when we were around others. Even when we walked through the house with him holding my hand, I would make sure to keep a step behind him.

  And by the time I was due to give birth at any moment, depression kicked in full force. I was a slave, having the child of a man who was the son of a slave owner, and with no idea what would happen to the child or me after.

  For all the apparent luxury of my circumstances, and the affection Rohan had for me he didn’t try to hide, I lived in constant fear of one wrong move. Of what might come next.

  This way of living wasn’t something I wished on anyone else, not even another slave.

  * * *

  When my water broke as we were about to go to bed, Rohan refused to take me to medical, guarding me as his father shouted like usual.

  I didn’t understand anything, pacing behind him, stopping to breathe when a contraction hit, and wishing they would figure something out before this baby came without anyone qualified to deliver it nearby.

  But as his father stalked out, I knew one thing for certain after all this time, and that was Rohan didn’t trust his father in the slightest. I would extend that lack of confidence to the rest of his family — his three brothers and two sisters — all whom I discovered ignored him completely.

  I only knew what they looked like because of the brief glimpses I managed to get of them at dinner, since they otherwise stayed far away from Rohan and, therefore, from me.

  Why he wouldn’t let me go to medical, though, I had no idea. As the doctor from medical showed up with one assistant and two naked slaves in tow carrying supplies, it didn�
�t matter. They covered the bed while the physician spoke to Rohan, who shook his head and kept his gaze focused on me, and neither of them seemed pleased with the other.

  Eventually, the doctor came over, got me undressed and onto the bed, then examined me. He didn’t speak to me at first, so I spent the whole time confused and wondering whether everything was okay or not, but then Rohan gripped my hand with a big smile, holding one leg up while the assistant held the other.

  And the doctor said, “Time to push.”

  I did, sobbing at my whole body feeling on fire, especially between my legs, and then I screamed as my hips widened to get the baby through after the third push. I thought it would never end, until finally it was over, the sweet sound of our child’s cry and Rohan’s joyful kiss making it worth every second of pain.

  * * *

  Rohan took Tiaan from my arms after I finished feeding him for the final time of the day, something he did every chance he got since our son’s birth four weeks ago and cradled him close.

  I learned something new a few days after that day, too — how he and his father communicated. Apparently, Rohan couldn’t speak, but he could write, and when I asked him what he wanted to name our son, he wrote it down. Needless to say, teaching him to write everything in English along with learning the words became something I planned to do soon.

  Mostly, though, I enjoyed all the time we spent together, and despite my fears, the child stayed with us at all times. Rohan made a sling for me to wear Tiaan close to my chest when we walked around or went to dinner, and he often slept through those times anyway, so it worked out nicely.

  I could already tell he would look most like Rohan. He was a good baby in general, only crying when hungry or when he needed changing and I wished I could protect him; take him away from here to have a normal life. I cried about it when alone with him, knowing how trapped we were and that it would never happen, as well as wondering how long it would be before another pregnancy.