His to Save (Mastering Melody Book 3) Read online

  His tone was playful and for a moment I considered saying yes, but knew he wasn’t serious and dropped my gaze as I asked, “Why have you let me speak to you this way when it is evident you don’t take me seriously?”

  “The other women have been in service since they were children — even Lira served her father and knew she would be sold one day. They know nothing else and aren’t like you, don’t think the way you do because they’ve never had to think for themselves.” He put his hand on my stomach and rubbed across it a few times before removing his touch and stepping back. “I find your unique perspective interesting even though it is misguided. These women don’t need you to save them, and you will do well to remember to hold your tongue in the future.”

  Turning away, he dismissed me with a curt, “You may go,” only to call out again the moment I opened the door. “And Melody?”

  “Yes, Master?”

  “I am forty.” Unable to believe he answered my question, I didn’t know what to reply as thanking him might be strange, but he prevented any related response from me with a softly spoken, “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Master.”

  I walked to my room and once in it, shut the door before bursting into tears, wondering why I wanted to return so badly to life on the streets and asking myself if the loss of freedom for security and safety was that awful.

  The worse thing was, for the first time ever, I couldn’t answer that question with a resounding yes.

  8

  My second child arrived in the world two days later.

  This delivery was different than my first from the start. I woke up in pain and the women flocked around me, helping me to the area they had prepped for the birth and sat me in a large tub filled with water thanks to Marius’ advice.

  The man actually had researched everything and of course, he had a doctor who lived in his own apartment in another wing who kept an eye on things, one the ladies weren’t supposed to call unless something started to go wrong with the pregnancy. He would check the baby later, but he wasn’t required for the birth except in an emergency.

  Remembering everything from last time, I breathed through the pain, the ladies doing everything they could to talk and keep me occupied while we waited. The water helped, and while I could’ve walked around, I found it felt better to just relax in the water.

  In the end, the labor was short and fast. One minute I thought it would take all day, the next I had an incredible urge to push. I found squatting made bearing down much easier than laying on my back, and in three pushes the baby came out of me and into the water.

  Layla lifted the child out of the water and into the waiting towel in Mia’s grasp, who sat crouched next to the tub.

  “It’s a boy,” she exclaimed with bright eyes and a sweet smile, the rest of the women squealing with excitement.

  Layla dealt with the cord, and once she cut it, Mia stood and turned away with my son, while Layla told me we had to deliver the placenta.

  I waited for the sound of his cry, and when his powerful little lungs let out a healthy wail, relief coursed through me at the same time as grief returned full force at the sweet remembrance of my sweet Tiaan. At that moment, I knew I would never get over the loss, and each birth would remind me of the child I would never hold again.

  It was a thought I kept to myself because Marius wouldn’t be pleased and much as the other women cared, they would never understand.

  Later that evening, everything had been taken care of, including me, and I laid in bed with my son resting on my chest, suckling greedily on my breast.

  He was a big baby. I had no idea the real amounts, but if I had to guess, he was more than nine pounds and probably around twenty-two inches long.

  And perfect, can’t forget that. I ran my finger along his head with lightly dusted dark hair, his cute little nose, and his chubby little cheeks.

  I might not love or even like his father, but I loved my son the moment I held him in my arms, and that meant being tethered here in this life whether I liked it or not because there wasn’t any way I would be parted from my child again.

  In truth, that is why I spoke to him the other day as I had because I knew the moment the child was born, nothing would ever be the same. Before he could have let me go, he could have freed me, but mothering a child with the man meant no escape ever. It meant that if I ever wanted to leave, it would be without the child, and that wasn’t the kind of mother I would ever be.

  Intimately acquainted with being without parents, of being abandoned as if I were nothing, there was no way I would ever do that to a child of mine.

  I stared down at him, now asleep with my nipple still in his mouth, and forever exchanged any hope of freedom for the limited security of my life as a slave — not for myself, but for my son and any future children I would have, so they would never feel as I did.

  It was the only right thing to decide in a world filled with wrong.

  Marius didn’t come to see our son until the next day.

  I woke up to him standing beside the cradle next to my bed, staring down at our sleeping child with wonder, and gently stroking his cheek.

  He lifted his head to stare at me when I readjusted myself to a sitting position on the bed and asked, “How are you feeling?”

  “Tired, Master, but otherwise I’m fine.” He nodded and lowered his gaze back to our son while curiosity led me to ask him something which had bothered me for months. “What will become of him and other children we have when they are grown?”

  “It isn’t worth thinking about such things, Melody, as you will have no control even if you were to know.”

  Which answered my question. “So the boys will grow up to become owners like you while the girls will be married off or sold?” His silence damned him, and angry tears filled my eyes while horror struck my heart. “How could you even think about doing such a thing to your own daughters?”

  He looked at me again, his tight jaw ticking with irritation, and he moved closer to the bed. He bent down and placed his hands against the wall on opposite sides of my head with a scowl. “Why do you insist on questioning everything and being upset over things you can’t change?”

  “Because even if you don’t care, I want you to know how heartless I think you are. It is bad enough you buy women, but to sell your own daughters into a world such as this?”

  Laughing, he moved away and ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. “Perhaps the solution is to make sure you don’t give me any girls, hm?”

  “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “Because you have proven you care about the way things work?”

  Clenching my hands into fists, I gritted my teeth and glared at him. I needed to stop arguing with him because my opinion meant nothing to him and worse, amused him. What I thought didn’t matter, period, but it would no doubt take some time to rid myself of the habit.

  After a brief moment of silence, he pointed at our son with a change of topic. “He needs a name.”

  “He does.”

  “I have chosen one.”

  Of course, he had, but since Rohan had done the same thing for our son, it didn’t bother me as much as other things did. “Is it something I can pronounce?”

  His eyebrows rose up, no doubt surprised by my not arguing with him about choosing our son’s name without my input, and then with a nod he picked our son up and cradled him in his firm hold. Our son let out a small cry as his father made a motion on his forehead before lifting his gaze to meet mine as he said, “His name is Demarco.”

  Our son chose that instant to cry loudly.

  Marius brought Demarco to me and handed him over as he started to fuss, watching as our son latched onto my breast and fed once I opened up my wrap.

  “I will return later,” he said a few minutes later, turning away and walking toward the door, tossing a final instruction over his shoulder. “Make sure to eat dinner even if you don’t wish to eat. Keeping up your strength is as important as caring fo
r him.”

  He exited without another word, and as Demarco ate, I wondered if his interest in any children we had would ever be more than superficial and a means to an end.

  A little voice inside me whispered it wouldn’t and I knew it as the truth, which made me cradle my son closer and whisper, “I love you,” because the chances of his father ever saying the word to him were unlikely.

  9

  The first few months flew by.

  As Demarco grew, the other women adored him — especially Layla, who spent every moment she could carrying him around in her arms. I loved that they doted on him, and in complete honesty, they were the same toward me as well.

  I did resume duties around the house, but only after the bleeding had stopped per Marius’ request, and within certain time limits because I still had to feed Demarco.

  His interaction with our son surprised me the most, though.

  Marius spent two or three hours with our son a day without fail, although he did so in the privacy of his own room where I wasn’t invited, and it was spread over the length of the day rather than all at once.

  So in that way, we saw him more often, but he still didn’t engage with any of us otherwise.

  At six weeks postpartum, once the doctor cleared me for sex, I thought Marius would request my presence in his room. However, when he didn’t, the fact hurt more than I wanted it to and made me wonder if he would only have sex with me when he could get me pregnant.

  I felt ridiculous wanting his attention, yet I knew exactly why I desired it. Even if it was only sex, his undivided attention in that period of time we spent together was the only interaction I got besides with the women, and since our son’s birth, I had spent no time with him at all.

  By the time Demarco turned three months old, I ached for him to notice me outside of our son’s care, and sadly, my body responded with a desperation for his touch whenever he came near.

  Unlike the other women, I became jealous when he would spend time with them because it seemed as if he were ignoring me. He would make sure I ate and took care of Demarco but otherwise didn’t speak to me either.

  And my behavior made the women feel sorry. Even after their nights with him, they couldn’t hide their flushed cheeks or the tenderness of their bodies the next morning, yet they tried their best not to talk about it in front of me.

  I started making my breakfast earlier to avoid dealing with the situation altogether and the fact they understood pissed me off because it seemed Marius had been correct.

  These women didn’t know any other way of life and sadly, I couldn’t stop comparing my life with Rohan and our son to the life I had now, and everyone knew it.

  And after nine months, my self-hatred for wanting his touch more over time instead of less and my jealousy led me to spend most of my time alone. I told myself I deserved it because of my behavior before and wished he would listen to me long enough so I could tell him about why I would never leave now.

  That was when his friend — the one who had saved me — finally returned, and shit hit the fan.

  Although we weren’t supposed to leave our rooms after lights out, I couldn’t sleep that night, and made sure Demarco slept deeply before leaving the room.

  I tiptoed through the house and stopped at the bottom of the steps leading up to Marius’ room, the sound of their laughter making me realize how much I missed male interaction.

  Slowly walking up the steps, I didn’t stop until I could rest my ear against it, and breathed as slow and quiet as possible so I could hear what they said.

  Frustrated when I couldn’t, I turned to walk away to head back to my room, but hurried to hide out of sight when the door opened.

  And that’s when my heart dropped into my stomach as the man asked, “You aren’t going to tell her?”

  He spoke of me, I knew he did, and Marius’ reply only confirmed it.

  “She is having trouble as it is. I have tried to give her time after the birth, but now she avoids interacting with anyone.”

  “Perhaps she would do better if she knew—”

  “Morné,” Marius interrupted with a sigh as they stand at the top of the steps. “It will merely make her wish for something she can’t have, and soon she will be pregnant with my child again. That will cause enough problems as she wasn’t happy the first time either.”

  I watched as the man named Morné inclined his head respectfully before giving Marius an angry look. “I understand she is yours now, but she deserves to know. It is her son—”

  A gasp escaped before I could stop it, both of them whirling around to glare in the direction of where I hid, and after a moment Marius’ voice boomed with anger. “Melody.”

  I darted out of my hiding spot, tears gliding down my face and pushed Marius before he could halt my approach.

  “What about my son?” I screamed at him as he recovered from my appearance and grabbed my upper arms, holding me away from his body so my kicks couldn’t touch him. “What are you keeping from me? Is he dead?”

  “Calm down, now.”

  When I continued to thrash and wail in his hold instead of doing as he said, he stormed back toward the bedroom and threw me down on the bed.

  I tried to scramble away, but he grabbed my wrists and tied me to the bed while Morné held my feet so I couldn’t kick either of them.

  They stood next to one another and murmured back and forth, comments I couldn’t hear over my crying, and when I grew tired, I stopped twisting and turning in an attempt to free myself with a final plea. “I just want to know about Tiaan.”

  Morné’s the one who came to sit beside me and push the hair out of my face, a gentle expression on his face as he eased the ache in my heart with a softly spoken, “Tiaan is alive and well, as is Rohan.”

  I was relieved and so glad they hadn’t been hurt by Frans that I made a request, even though I knew it would be denied. “I need to see them.”

  Morné’s gaze grew sad as he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Melody, but that isn’t possible. Rohan believes you are dead thanks to Frans’ and after how long it’s taken for him to move on from his brother’s betrayal, it must remain that way.”

  I didn’t understand, my heart breaking all over again at thinking how much that must’ve hurt Rohan. “How long…? What do you mean how long it’s taken? When did you find him?”

  Marius stepped forward then, his whole stance emanating displeasure and anger, and he covered my mouth as he stared down at me. “Shortly after you became pregnant with my child, which meant telling you would’ve cause problems at a time when you needed to remain calm for the child’s sake.”

  A year and a half he’d known Rohan and Tiaan were okay and hid it from me. I wanted to rip his throat out.

  “Fuck you.” I settled for spitting the words at him the moment he removed his hand. “All this time you’ve let me believe him dead when you could’ve told me the fucking truth. You really are a selfish bastard, aren’t you?” I didn’t even have the energy to yell at him, turning my gaze away while tears flowed freely and whispered, “I hate you. Get away from me.”

  They did leave then, and I drifted in and out of a restless sleep, my arms aching from being held slightly up in the air by the ties.

  When Marius returned alone to the room, he undressed before moving me toward the headboard of the bed, leaving me tied as he covered me with the comforter and slid in next to me.

  He had just rolled over to face away from me when I whispered, “I can’t sleep here like this. What about Demarco?”

  “Layla has him,” he replied in a worn out tone. “We will discuss your behavior in the morning. Until then, you will suffer the consequences of your tantrum.”

  And suffered I did, wondering how he would punish me come morning all while my engorged breasts ached for a release that wouldn’t come tonight and my arms slowly went numb.

  10

  Marius awakened me in the morning with a soft tap on the cheek.

  I noticed my a
rms were freed upon opening my eyes, but my relief didn’t last long as he pulled me from the bed and carried me across the room, lifting my arms in the air and cuffing them together after disrobing me.

  When he let go, I barely managed to keep my balance, the balls of my feet just meeting the floor.

  Before I could speak or cry out, he demanded curtly, “Open your mouth,” and when I did, he shoved a ball gag inside, the decisive click of a lock making it clear this was punishment and not play.

  I hadn’t been gagged since before my arrival here, and this one was large enough to nearly block my throat, making it imperative I breathe through my nose.

  My eyes widened when he stepped in front of me, belt in hand, and slapped it against his leg while studying me.

  “My father had slaves,” he began with a scowl. “He was the kind of man who thought a good slave, even one with a previous owner, needed to be taught how to please their current master no matter how well behaved they were. He would acquire them and break them all over again, even though they didn’t need it. Their screams used to keep me up at night, and I vowed to never treat my slaves that way.

  “We both know how you ended up here, but I knew of Frans and figured any slave he tortured would be quite happy to join my household where they weren’t beaten and mistreated on a daily basis. At first, I found your spark amusing and tolerated it for my own amusement, letting you get away with things I shouldn’t for fear of acting like my father, especially considering you weren’t raised to serve from birth as my other slaves were.

  “I respected your feelings for Rohan and for your child, and honestly wished for you to grieve them so you could move on and serve me well. Whether I disclosed details about them once you were in my possession was up to me, and I decided you didn’t need to know, a decision which should have been respected, but then you pulled your little stunt last night. You were lucky I let Morné tell you anything at all because you didn’t deserve it. I thought you would adjust in time, and since you haven’t, now I must do what needs to be done so you will know your place.”