Human Rights (2 page)

I'd lied. I hadn't wanted my death. I had wanted
him
. A master or mistress who, when I looked at them, woke my loyalty. Sir Jiat made that part inside me stir, stretch, reach. I didn't want to go back to my cage. I didn't want to wait for death. I wanted to go home with him.

"You may leave, Master Miab." Sir Jiat's voice was a rich, deep purr, rolling through my senses. The moment the door shut, leaving us alone, he crouched in front of me. "You liked looking at me, didn't you, Ewan?"

He'd asked me a question. Did he want me to answer? Was I allowed to speak? I didn't know if he had a cane of his own. I trembled. Should I speak? If I did, should I say yes, I loved looking at him, or should I lie and say no and risk insulting him?

"Speak, Ewan," Sir Jiat said, the words firm but quiet.

"Yes," I rasped out, my throat painfully dry. "You are beautiful. Unusual."

"I am." There was certainty in his voice, and I swore I heard a note of amusement. "Three homes in your life. Did you love your masters?"

Shame bubbled up in me, and I decided not to lie. "Not all of them."

"Good. You're honest. I value honesty. Stand up. I wish to look at you."

I rose at the same time Sir Jiat did, but I kept my eyes averted, my hands loose at my sides. Pets weren't permitted clothing unless snows came, and so I was naked. I could feel his gaze slide over my bare skin, over my arms, legs. He reached out, combed his thick fingers through my matted hair.

"You are filthy." I wanted to protest, to say that as such an old, second-returned pet, I had no right to lovely soaps, clean water, or a comb, but I knew better than to speak. "But, you're strong. Pretty for being such a mutt. You seem well-behaved, but even if you aren't, I believe I could easily train any stubbornness from you. I managed to with my last pet."

I wanted to ask what happened to his previous pet, but I bit my tongue. Sir Jiat circled me, touched my back, my ass, let his claw scrap over the stinging welt Miab had left me with. I whimpered.

"And you're intact. I dislike my males to be anything other than how The Maker intended." Sir Jiat stopped in front of me once more. "Do you wish to come home with me, Ewan?" I trembled, wanting to look up at him again. "Look at me." My eyes snapped up to meet his. "When I ask you a question, you will speak. I want no lies, and I don't like to beat my pets unless my hand is forced. Do not force my hand and you will not be beaten. Now, do you wish to come with me?"

"Yes," I said immediately.

Sir Jiat smiled, and I saw something warm in his eyes then, something that made my gut flutter. "I will fill out the paperwork. You will wait here for my return. I want you to crouch on the balls of your feet, your hands clasped behind your back, your head bowed. Do not move from that position until I come for you."

The position would be painful, would make my legs, back, and shoulders ache, but I'd do it. To go home with him, I'd stand on my damn head. I crouched, grasped my wrist behind my back, and I bowed my head, my stringy brown hair falling into my face. He gave my scalp a little scritch, and then I heard him leave the room. I closed my eyes, forced myself to breathe evenly, and prepared myself for a trial of endurance, as paperwork for a pound adoption could take a whole afternoon to complete.

Sir Jiat took me home. It was a simple as that, it seemed. I'd expected to wait all afternoon as the reams of paperwork were filled out, but Sir Jiat came back for me within the hour. He clipped a leash to my collar and led me out of the pound. The sun was hot, the air thick, and my feet burned as I walked along the white concrete pathway. I was filthy, tired, and shocked I'd been chosen, but as a light breeze blew, carrying with it the distant scent of the sea, I was happy.

He didn't speak to me as he walked from the pound. His carriage was modest, drawn by one small horse, and he tied my leash to one of the posts at the front. He didn't drive his horse hard, but he made me run, the heat of the ground and occasional rock making me wince. I didn't want to let him down or regret choosing me, and so I ran with my head up and my back straight. Not once did he have to yell at me, take the cane to my ass, or slow his carriage. By the time we reached his modest home, I was covered in sweat, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath.

Again, he didn't speak. He walked me into the cool shade of his home and handed my leash to a female. She wasn't as finely dressed as Sir Jiat, so I could only assume she was a servant. Her long muzzle and sharp eyes spoke of one of the Jackal breeds, and I thought it strange that one of the Jackals would be employed by one of the Jaguars. The Canines and Felines shared the same world, but they didn't always mix well. It was why, I believed, the political climate was as splintered as it was, for the Felines far outnumbered the Canines, and so the laws benefited the Felines more than the Canines.

I might be nothing more than a pet, but I paid attention. I'd had two Feline masters and one Canine, and the Canines often spoke of their discontent to one another. No one censored themselves around the family pet, after all.

It was then that Sir Jiat turned his full attention to me.

"This is Hosanna. She will be your personal groom. Hosanna has been in my employ for a decade, and she is well-versed in how I expect my pets to behave. If I am not here, her word is law. Do you understand, Ewan?"

The fact that Sir Jiat kept using my name was a marvel. I nodded. "Yes."

"She will take you to the bathing room and properly cleanse you for acceptance in my household. I do not tolerate uncleanliness, and you will be bathed twice a week. Your hair will always be brushed. We will have boots made for you." Sir Jiat looked at Hosanna. "When you're done, bring him into my suite. I will go over the rest of the rules there."

"Yes, Sir," Hosanna said, bowing her head a little. "I will also feed him."

Sir Jiat nodded. "Yes. He is too thin. I doubt that ass at the pound has been properly feeding any of his charges." He seemed to consider me for a moment, and I'd never been more aware of my body and its lack of bulk before. "A filet of chicken, a bowl of those syruped plums Lady Shiall sent over, and three slices of bread from this morning." Sir Jiat turned and started to leave the room, and then he paused and looked over his shoulder with a flick of his tail. "And a glass of milk," he said.

I wanted to drop to my knees again and kiss his sleek, pale feet. It had been several years since I'd had such a lavish meal, and my mouth watered at the mere thought of it. And milk! By the heavens, I'd not had milk in almost a decade. Tears stung my eyes, but I didn't lift my head, didn't speak. After a moment, Sir Jiat left the room, and I was alone with Hosanna. She reached over and lifted my chin until our eyes met.

"Do not avert your eyes in this household. To Sir Jiat, it means shame. Are you ashamed to be his pet?"

"No." I was honored! To be chosen by one of the Elite, to be gifted weekly baths, to be given proper food, it was heavenly. There was nothing here—so far—that brought shame to my heart.

Hosanna grinned, her sharp teeth showing. "Then don't bow your head or avert your eyes unless Sir Jiat commands you to. Come. I have the boiler ready. You are in dire need of a bath. I will tell Werrs to prepare your meal. You can eat while I tend your hair."

By the time I was greedily eating the luscious meal, I was scrubbed clean, my hair and nails trimmed, and my skin oiled to a gleaming bronze. I was proud my bare skin wasn't pasty like many other pets'. I had been kissed by the sun, and Hosanna actually complimented my clear complexion. I even smelled lovely, like oranges and something resinous that made me hum pleasantly whenever I caught wind of myself. As I ate, my belly filling quickly, Hosanna combed my hair, braided it back from my face.

"I've never seen another pet with hair like yours," she said.

I took a deep drink of the cold milk I'd been given. "Like mine?"

"It's thick, but very soft, and from a distance, it looks simply brown. It's not just brown, though. Here in the light, I can see the deep ruddy hue of it. It's quite lovely."

"Thank you," I said, flattered by her compliment.

I finished my meal, feeling bloated and ready for a long nap. When I sat back and sighed, Hosanna chuckled. Her fingers flew through my hair, half of it artfully confined within elaborate braids, the other half left loose. She motioned for me to follow her, and we moved from the bathing room into a richly decorated bedroom. Hosanna told me to kneel on the rug and wait for Sir Jiat's return.

As I sat there, I indulged myself. I looked around. The colors were deep, dark, masculine. Black, brown, and an emerald green accented the bed, couch, and curtains. I wanted to spread out on the furs covering the bed, curl up and sleep. The food had made me sleepy. But this was my master's room. Pets weren't supposed to be in a master's personal space. At least, none of the masters I'd had before thought a pet's place was beside their master. I was allowed to sleep in the communal rooms or in small houses outside the main house. This was personal. This was
his
room. It smelled of him: his musk and fur.

My knees were aching by the time Sir Jiat entered the room. He sat on the low divan at the foot of the bed, and something glinted in his hand. A collar. It was a beautiful collar, too. Fine tooled leather of a deep green with a shiny silver buckle and leash ring. I licked my lips, and my fingers itched to touch it, to feel the cool leather around my neck. I'd never been gifted with such a fine, unique collar. Mine had always been cheap, itchy, ill-fitting collars my masters had purchased from one of the many shops for pets.

"The tag will be ready to fasten to the ring in a week," Sir Jiat said. "Until then, you will not be allowed out of the house unless you are on a leash and at my heel."

I nodded, unable to take my eyes from the collar. "I understand."

"Good. Come here. Sit on my lap."

He was larger than me, taller and broader, and as I sat upon his lap, I realized how hard and strong his thighs were. He was one of The Guard, and I could see it in every movement, in every muscle. I didn't understand the pull he had on me already. I'd felt it before all the kindnesses, and now that my flesh touched his, I was shocked by the heat that moved through me. I knew the sensation. It was lust. I'd felt it in the past, but I'd never been allowed to sate myself except with my own hand. But to feel lust for one of the masters? It was forbidden. It was grounds to have one's life ended, and after gaining all of this, I didn't want to lose it because my cock was headstrong.

"Head up," Sir Jiat ordered, and my head instantly snapped up, exposing my throat to him. "Do you need a new name, or does Ewan please you?" he asked as he slipped the leather—not too tight, not too loose—around my throat and fastened the buckle.

"The Lady Kica named me Ewan," I said, voice rough.

Sir Jiat chuckled. "I didn't ask who named you. I asked if you liked the name."

I flushed. "No, I don't."

"Do you have a name you like?" Sir Jiat asked, settling the collar, his fingers lingering on my skin. "Did you have a name from the bitch that birthed you?"

I remembered almost nothing about my mother, other than her smell. She'd had an affair with the neighbor's stud. From all accounts, he had held a high pedigree, but she'd been found in the pound. She had been the product of two surrendered pets herself. I was a mutt through and through, but I still remembered her scent. The scent... and the name she called me. I righted my head when Sir Jiat tapped my chin, and I boldly met his beautiful eyes. Still, I hesitated. It was
my
name. I didn't want to give it to him. Not yet.

Sir Jiat smiled, his white, dangerous teeth showing, and he stroked up and down my back. "For now, I think, Ewan will do, won't it?"

"Yes," I said, arching into his touch. Oh, it felt so good to be touched again! I was clean, fed, and now I was being given such tender attention from my new master. I couldn't help but wonder when the dream would collapse and reality would slap me.

"You will sleep in here, with me, at the foot of my bed," Sir Jiat said, never looking away from my eyes. "I am one of the members of the Human Rights Movement. You will not sleep on the floor. You will not be denied proper food. You will not be denied freedom to move about, to rest, to socialize. You will not be denied clothing in the snows. You are here as my reverent pet, and I will treat you with the utmost respect. Do you understand all that I have said?"

My throat tightened, and my eyes stung as tears gathered. A member of the Human Rights Movement? My new master believed pets to be thinking, feeling creatures worthy of affection and respect? Even the mutts? I swallowed several times, and then bowed my head as I began to weep.

"You do understand," Sir Jiat murmured, cradling me against his body. His large, paw-like hand continued to pet up and down my back, and then his purr burst forth. No master had
ever
purred for me, and I clung to him. It was shameful and disrespectful, but I couldn't help myself. I clung to him and wept as he purred and touched me. "I apologize for my cruelty at the pound, but we act in secret, and men like Miab would never give you over to a master who believed you a thinking, feeling creature. It will not happen again. You begin a new life today, Ewan," he promised me. "A new life."

The first thirty-one years of my life fell away then. I accepted Sir Jiat in that instant, accepted him as my lord and master, my owner, and knew the long years ahead of me would be nothing like the ones that had preceded them. For the first time in my life, I thought myself blessed, and I prayed to whatever might hear me, prayed Sir Jiat would never want to send me back to the pound. I wanted to trust him; I prayed to trust him. As I fell asleep against his shoulder, full and exhausted, I think something must have heard me, because I drifted into dreams with my heart at peace.

Chapter Two