At His Throat, a Promise (16 page)

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

welcomed there, encouraged, even, to stay with the other slave and Harte with him.

Gabriel let out an eerie sob, and Ellis knelt at William"s door. It took him almost a full minute to gather his nerve, but finally, he knocked.

The master was at the door almost immediately, making Ellis wonder if he"d been awake.

“What is it?”

“It"s Gabriel, Sir. He"s having a nightmare.”

“How would you know that?”

Ellis didn"t dare look up; in fact, he huddled farther into himself. “I heard it through the closet door, Sir.” Just then, Gabriel gave an unearthly shriek. William would have to believe him, now.

“Go back to bed,” William said, passing him and pulling a key from his trousers.

He paused in front of Gabriel"s door to look back at Ellis, who was frozen, staring at the keys. Why not just lock
him
in? It was worse this way, knowing he wasn"t trapped but the others were still unavailable.

“I said, go to bed, slave! You"re getting to be almost more trouble than you"re worth, I think, with your inability to follow direct orders.”

Ellis hid behind his hair as he scrambled to his feet and back into his bedroom. He closed the door and let out a shaky breath.

He"d never heard William so angry—the only possible exception being when he"d yelled on the phone while discussing Gabriel.

The only explanation was that Ellis was just a bad slave. Why
wasn’t
he obeying orders? Why did he think that he belonged here, when it had been clear from the start that he was neither wanted nor needed? If it weren"t for William"s weakness for Harte, Ellis 131

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

would be either with some horrible, last-resort master or in the Facility. And here Ellis was treating his temporary life like some sort of resort.

Somehow, his anger at himself didn"t stop him from pressing his ear against the shared door. He could hear William speaking in low, soothing tones, and Gabriel responding now and then, giving quiet, abbreviated answers.

At least William wasn"t upset with Gabriel. That would have been too much to bear.

* * *

He was listening to an audio book with essays on major philosophers—he was on Hobbes, now, and feeling very hopeless—when Harte came in. He saw Ellis at the table and immediately turned and left.

Turning down the player, he heard Harte speaking to Nell in the kitchen. He turned the volume back up and made a note on his legal pad to stop his eyes from filling.

When William came in, followed by Harte, he sat at the head of table and started the lesson. It was rapid and ruthless, like the night before. His usual style of promoting discussion was gone, replaced by abrupt pieces of information that were meant to be written down right away and absorbed later.

At the end of the session, William asked if there were any questions. Harte asked a couple regarding precedence, something Ellis was just beginning to get the hang of. When he was finished, William stood, but Ellis stopped him.

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“Sir?”

“Yes?” His tone was short, and Ellis fought not to recoil. How spoiled he"d become by the positive learning environment.

“I"m listening to an essay on Hobbes, Sir, and I don"t quite understand—”

But William cut him off. “Please try to follow the lesson plan.

We"ve already studied Hobbes.” William glanced at Harte before returning his gaze to Ellis. “Harte should be able to help you.”

“But, Master!” Harte protested, eyes wide.

But William left.

“You don"t have to tell me,” Ellis said weakly. He"d try to find a reference in one of the books in the library. If it wasn"t locked to him, of course.

Harte looked so torn he was practically vibrating. Finally, he tore a piece of paper from his legal pad and began to write. Ellis sighed and wrote his question down, hoping it answered itself with his continued studying.

He was surprised when Harte slid his paper across the table to Ellis.

I’m not supposed to talk to you.

Ellis gaped at the words. He looked at Harte with confusion written across his face.

Harte took the paper back and scribbled some more.

Punishment #2.

So William had known Harte wouldn"t be able to help with the Hobbes essay. Or maybe he was testing Harte. Ellis jumped when Harte grabbed the paper back and stuffed it under his notes.

“Harte? Can I speak with you in the foyer?” William asked, standing in the doorway. He waited a beat and turned, leaving them alone again.

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Harte followed and Ellis clenched his fists in indecision.

Finally, his desperate need to know won out, and he followed silently, looking around the corner at the front door, where Harte and William were embracing.

Jealousy—he finally named it to himself—curled around his heart and squeezed. William was holding Harte tenderly but tightly, kissing him with ferocity. Harte kissed back just as hard, but pulled away to whisper something. Ellis was too far to hear, but William gave him a stern look and said something back.

Harte"s face took on a wheedling look—he obviously wasn"t used to not getting his own way. In return, William shook his head, and when Harte dropped his forehead against his master"s chest, William just held him.

Numbly, Ellis returned to kitchen table. He took the note from beneath Harte"s papers.

Punishment #2
.

Whatever it was, it was the worst thing he"d ever experienced.

Worse than lashings.

Then Ellis realised it was
supposed
to be worse. What had William said right before he"d become distant? Ellis"s punishment
has begun
. William, just as he"d said he would, was exploiting Ellis"s weakness. A weakness he hadn"t even realised he"d had. A need for affection, approval, contact. Things a good slave got used to with the right master. Things Ellis had gotten
very
used to with William.

And now, without them, he felt bereft. Naked. Unworthy.

He waited for the front door to close, denoting William"s departure for work, and scribbled a note on Harte"s paper and left it on top so he would find it right away.

Don’t try to help. I can take it.

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He was strong. He could handle it for as long as it lasted. And then some, if need be. He would have no way of knowing when it would end, or even if it ever would. Though punishments couldn"t really last forever…

Ellis went to his room. He would just have to get used to the solitude.

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As the days passed by, Ellis became less certain of his ability to
take it
, as he"d written to Harte that he could. The punishment was unlike anything he"d ever encountered before. Pain he could handle. He didn"t like it, certainly didn"t get off on it like Harte, but he could
take
it.

Even food and sleep deprivation, he could
take.
It made him cranky, sore, and irritable, but it wasn"t unbearable.

Until now, nothing had been.

He"d never felt so deprived.

Even Gabriel wasn"t to speak to him. He walked around with a perpetual look of confusion and remorse on his face, and Ellis wanted to tell him it was okay, it wasn"t his fault, but he didn"t 136

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

want to risk Gabriel answering and then getting into trouble.

Lesson learned!
he wanted to scream every time he saw William praise or embrace Harte.
I get it!
whenever William ran his fingers through Gabriel"s hair.

But he didn"t scream. He took it like a good slave, hoping that every day would be the last of the punishment because he simply wasn"t strong enough.

Ellis hadn"t realised how many times a day he spoke to the others. Of course, he was permitted to talk to them. He could ask Nell for a snack or tell Harte it was time for his show, but they weren"t supposed to respond.

Sometimes Nell got a look like she was about to draw him into her arms. Or Harte would just stand there and quiver until Ellis had to leave in case Harte broke the rule. William would just stare at him for long moments during which Ellis didn"t know what to do with himself. Gabriel was the worst, though. Whenever he and Ellis were in the same room, he"d just put his head into his hands and wouldn"t even look up until Ellis went away. It was agonising.

That day, however, was the worst day of all. After seven days of no one speaking to him except William to issue orders, Ellis was beginning to doubt his own existence. It was a wonder Gabriel was even sane if this was
half
the deprivation he"d gone through. He didn"t like to think of himself as weak, but what else could he be?

He"d even thought of running away just to
talk
to someone.

He woke up early as he always did, even though William had said there would be no lessons that day. Used to being silent, he ate whatever Nell put in front of him, noticing it was more food that he usually ate. Did he look as sick as he felt?

Gabriel and Harte spoke in stilted, hushed tones as if their not being boisterous made the punishment easier. William read the 137

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

paper and looked wholly unaffected.

Ellis stayed at the table after everyone was gone. He put on his headphones and listened to William"s dictations. Sometimes, if he paused it in just the right place, it sounded as though William was talking to him and not a recording machine.
Of course, Sir, the
Jeffries’ file will be updated with the new information as soon as
possible.
It wasn"t as satisfying, responding in his head, but it kept him together.

After he heard William leave for work, he got up to go to his room. It was easier for all of them that way. Harte and Gabriel didn"t have to watch their every move, making sure not to speak to him.

Ellis felt like a ghost, and it was better to be alone where he could pretend he still existed.

Harte and Gabriel were coming down the hallway, and Ellis was surprised to feel Harte"s fingers brush against the back of his hand as he passed. It was enough. He didn"t look back, didn"t need to. It was enough.

He"d never really realised how boring it was to actually do nothing. It wasn"t easy. After the tape ran out, he decided to save the rest for later. He didn"t need them right away, and he"d be sorry if he finished them. He read and took notes for a while, but after that, he just lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He tried not to think, tried not to focus on any one thing for too long. He just…

stared. He might have fallen asleep, he wasn"t entirely sure.

When he heard the front door open sometime in the evening, he"d made the decision he hadn"t even known he was contemplating.

Running down the stairs, Ellis beat even Harte to greet the master, throwing himself at William"s feet and crying out, “Please, 138

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

I"m sorry, I"m sorry! Anything else, please… whip me! Beat me, starve me… Please.” His voice broke. He could see Harte and Gabriel out of the corner of his eye. They were holding hands.

“Please, Sir. I"m sorry. I need you.”

The silence wore thin as his body was wracked with tremors.

Please, let this be what he wants.

And then William hauled him up by his arms and pressed him against the door. “I don"t want to beat you,” he whispered fiercely, his eyes seeming to glow. Ellis was trapped by them. “I don"t want to hurt you. I
don’t
want you to do it again.”

“Never,” Ellis said. His breath hitched and sobbed. “Never.”

“Remember when I said I was selfish? It wasn"t a lie. I won"t share you.”

The things Ellis saw in William"s face confused him. “I believe you.” Which he did. He didn"t understand, no. But he believed.

“No lesson tonight,” William said to Harte, who Ellis saw was smiling so widely his cheeks must have hurt. Gabriel looked a little angry, his eyes narrowing at William, but there was also relief in his posture.

“Will you come upstairs with me?” William asked after Harte had led Gabriel from the foyer.

“I… ” Ellis hesitated. William was asking permission, and Ellis wasn"t sure how to answer. He thought about the question as if William was asking what Ellis
wanted
, and he responded to that.

“Yes.”

With his hand on the small of Ellis"s back, William led him up the stairs and down the hall. Ellis"s steps slowed as he approached his door, but William walked on to his own bedroom.

Ellis had never been inside without Harte.

“Go sit on the bed,” William directed, not unkindly. He 139

AT HIS THROAT, A PROMISE

watched Ellis as he began to unbutton his shirt, though he didn"t remove it.

Ellis felt on display in the middle of the wide bed, forcing himself not to pull in his legs and arms to make himself smaller.

“Sir, may I ask a question?”

William"s easy nod loosened the knot that made up Ellis"s stomach. It had been a full week since he"d felt comfortable asking a simple question. William"s eyes weren"t cruel, weren"t harsh.

His punishment was over.

“How did you know this would be the… the worst thing?” William sat on the edge of the bed, not making a move toward Ellis, who desperately wanted touch, any sort. “I didn"t. Not at first. But it didn"t take long for me to see how affected you were by the treatment.”

Ellis bit his lip and nodded. He was
angry
at William. He didn"t like being experimented on. And he definitely didn"t feel like the punishment had fit the crime. After all, William hadn"t ignored Harte after Ellis had kissed him, and wasn"t it the same?

But then Harte"s punishment could have been something entirely different. Ellis had no way of knowing. Still, he didn"t think
anything
could be worse than a week without talking or touching.