The Copper Horse #1 Fear (18 page)

Reuben was too afraid to ask.

"Come on now, your gravy is ready to be served." Erik tugged him along.

Reuben let himself be pulled as if he had no will of his own. He was numb and had definitely lost his appetite. Somehow, the thought of the Pit of the Dead didn't seem that bad anymore. Out of the frying pan into the fire?

At the end of the table stood a cushioned chair and in front of it, there was a single, elaborate table setting. Reuben was shocked at the sheer amount of cutlery on both sides of the plate, which was round and cream-colored with green edges. A few feet to the side from the chair stood a large, feeder topped with a long rectangular bowl made of shiny porcelain. It was carved into a striking resemblance of a tree stem.

Reuben knew he should have expected it, but was still hit by the humiliation. He was naked, his hands were bound, and of course he wouldn't get to sit at the table. All he had left in him was a scowl.

"Shall dinner be served, Master?" asked John, who followed them, silent as a ghost.

Erik guided Reuben to his place behind the feeder and moved toward the chair.

"Excellent, John."

The servant came close to push the chair under Erik's backside. Reuben gave his master a sour look. Was he really supposed to eat without using his hands?

John walked to the nearest wall and said something into a sort of cup, much like Jack had earlier. He returned with a bottle of wine and poured some for his master.

"Do you wish for some wine, Copper?" Erik looked at him through his own half-glass, sending the dark red liquid into a spin with a twist of his wrist.

Reuben licked his lips. "Could I please have some gin, sir?" He tried to be as polite as possible. The sooner all of this became a blur, the better.

Erik sighed, pressing his mouth into a thin line. "My dear Copper, you need to cut those appalling working class ways. You may have a glass after dinner."

"I hope it's a big one," he muttered beneath his breath and looked back at the empty feeder.

"No wine, then?" The soft sound of a bell interrupted Erik. John walked over to the corner, where he lifted a wooden panel that blended in with the rest of the wall to reveal a silver plate.

"Am I supposed to sip the wine like a cat or something?" Bit by bit, Reuben was reaching his boiling point.

Erik's pale eyes looked at him blankly. "You're not a cat."

All Reuben wanted to say was, 'Fuck this dinner, then!', but the prospect of wine, pork, potatoes and even pudding afterward was just too enticing to risk it all for a few angry words. "I still wanna drink it." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, groaning when the tail twisted in his ass.

Erik gestured at John, who came closer to the feeder, his posture just as elegant as when he was servicing the master. Holding a white cloth against the bottle neck, he poured the wine into the white bowl.

Reuben looked down at it with a frown but he didn't want to wait any longer and slouched to try and slurp the alcohol up as fast as possible. He couldn't believe how rich and delicate it was! He had never had wine that good. "Can I have more, please?" he asked as soon as he got through half of it, his chin and nose dripping. It was easier to drink when there was more in the bowl. Erik gave John his consent, and the servant poured a generous amount of wine right into the feeder. Reuben's eyes lit up as he watched it splashing in tiny droplets all over the creamy porcelain. He could down a whole bottle of this nectar.

He didn't care anymore about getting his face dirty. In the end, if Erik didn't care about him having manners, why should he? His master, on the other hand, was very quiet, eating something that looked like two pieces cut off a rolled pancake with a filling.

"Can I have the stew now?" Reuben urged between slurps.

"You need to wait until I'm finished." Erik looked at him, slowly chewing on his food.

"Oh, do I?" Reuben walked up closer to the table. The tail was still uncomfortable, but he tried to ignore its existence.

John made a move to stop him, but Erik dismissed the servant with a lazy gesture. "Yes. We eat the main course together."

That surprised Reuben, who cocked his head to the side. "So what are you eating?"

"An entrée." Erik reached out and slowly stroked his hand down Reuben's hip. "It's something one eats before the main dish."

"Why don't I get one of those?" He quickly bent over to have a bite of Erik's food, but his master managed to keep his mouth away from the plate with a firm push to his cheek.

"Why, would you like some?" he asked, picking up a piece of the roll. It smelled deliciously creamy.

"Whiskey would go well with it." He had no qualms about snatching the food straight from his master's fingers, so he just went for it. He was surprised how fast he was able to let go of class inhibitions when he was treated like an animal. Erik moved his hand away and pushed at Reuben's face with his other palm.

"Easy now, Copper. You need to ask for it."

"You know you want to give it to me," he tried with a huff. If he was to benefit from this situation, he had to start working out what Erik was about.

"I do, yes." Erik's smile became gentler and he traced his fingers over the sensitive skin of Reuben's freshly shaven scalp. "But you still need to ask for it."

"Can I have some of whatever that is?" He pressed his cheek into Erik's empty hand. He didn't want to be on his bad side. Not after seeing the heads.

"Aw, that's more like it!" Erik tickled him behind the ear and brought the other palm close to Reuben's mouth to feed him. "Go on."

He swallowed the whole thing in a few bites, too hungry to really savor the taste, but it was cheesy, creamy, with a hint of herbs. Erik's voice cut through to him though. "Isn't that nice? My cook's been in Italy for a long time."

"Figures," Reuben said with a full mouth. "Italians are a sinful people."

Erik smiled, stroking his naked side. "They do like pleasures of the flesh, yes. You are smarter than you look, Copper."

"Is there something in my face that says 'moron'?" He swallowed the food and straightened up.

Erik furrowed his eyebrows, getting lost in thought as he cleaned his hand with a napkin. "No, it's more about your eyes, I believe."

Reuben felt a cold shiver go down his spine. "Ah, fuck you," he growled and walked back to his feeder.

"Such a bad boy. I thought you were hungry." Erik gestured for John, who moved toward the food lift again.

"I am. Stop teasing me, monster."

"You will not be fed if you don't behave." Erik looked him in the eyes. John returned to the table carrying a plate filled with meat, potatoes and fresh vegetables. It smelled fresh and unspoiled. Where Reuben used to live, he would always get the worst of the worst that people of his status could afford. Still, he looked away. The tail between his buttocks suddenly felt more uncomfortable. He wished the servant couldn't see him like that.

Erik let out a long breath, tying the napkin around his neck to protect his shirt. He cut through the meat on his plate. "You will get your dinner once you apologize."

Reuben managed an angry 'no' and went back to slurping wine from the bowl.

"Very well, it's all up to you, Copper."

And he had made his decision by ignoring Erik. There was no choice. It was all force and shove. And now, instead of joining the feast, he had to look at his master eating the lovely main course, followed by ice cream and cognac while Reuben's mouth watered from just sniffing the food.

It was the smell of alcohol that truly broke his heart. Looking away didn't help, but he still tried, turning his back on Erik and pretending to admire another painting or carved detail. Unfortunately, it made him think of the stuffed heads, and he couldn't cope with all this anymore.

"Copper?" Erik's voice cut through his discomfort. "If you don't apologize, you will not be given breakfast, either."

He looked down at his own feet, trying to avoid the stares of several pairs of dead, glass eyes. His breathing got raspy when he realized he was trapped as never before. Maybe Jack would be able to smuggle something for him. Erik certainly was cruel enough to let him starve just to get his way.

"Or lunch. And I will empty the cookie dispenser if you are counting on it."

"You always starve your horses?" Reuben asked through gritted teeth, not bothering to face him.

Erik sighed. "I don't want to starve you. In fact, your stew, potatoes and gravy are being kept warm. You could have them within minutes."

"But you choose to be a bastard for no reason." Reuben was becoming increasingly sour. How long would he manage? A day? Two? A week? He knew from experience that a week without food was a stretch.

"No, Copper." Reuben heard Erik push the chair away from the table and move closer, until he could feel the heat of the other man's body on his back. "You just talked back to your master. Anyone else would beat you up with a cane."

The pressure was too much. Even his father's attacks didn't seem that bad, because since he'd grown up, he could fight back. Here, he was helpless. He didn't want to end up on that wall, nor did he want to be beaten.

"Copper, why don't you just say you're sorry?" Erik's hand gently slid across his back.

"Because you deserved to hear that!" he burst out, not expecting to be so shaken.

"I just answered your question, Copper."

"You pretend to be polite, but you're not." Reuben shied away from the touch.

Erik yanked Reuben toward him by the arm. "I am trying to be kind, Copper."

"You don't even want to call me by my name." He knew he was pushing his luck, but he needed to try anyway.

"Your name is Copper." Erik looked deep into his eyes with his own freak pair.

Reuben swallowed hard. He was stuck here with this man. "If I apologize, will I get a bottle of cognac?"

Erik's mouth slowly stretched into an amused smile. "I really like you, Copper," he confessed, tracing Reuben's belly with the back of his hand. "But it won't be a bottle."

"I'd be nice and sleep like a pony should." He hoped that reference would speak to Erik's sick mind. "And be ready for fun and frolic tomorrow." Reuben slouched to nuzzle his master's smooth cheek. He felt a mental cringe, but was too desperate for the alcohol to regret it. The wine smelled of peace and good times. Cognac would smell even better. His actions had the desired effect, because Erik clearly appreciated them. He gently hugged Reuben's head to his chest and stroked it.

"You're sweet as honey, Copper. Quarter-bottle and a whole meal with ice cream. How about that?"

"Half bottle." Maybe if he hadn't had such a strong head, quarter would do the job, but he knew even half was a stretch. Even from afar, the cognac smelled damn good, though.

"Quarter is my last offer, I'm afraid." As Erik moved into a closer embrace, Reuben heard him smelling the back of his head.

"But why?" He let out a howl, but didn't dare move away. "I bet you have a whole cellar of those!"

"Because I want you fresh and conscious, my dear stallion." Erik pulled back a bit to kiss his forehead. Reuben gave up and leaned into the hug. He'd never had anyone touch him in such a gentle manner, and it was hard to refuse. "I apologize, then." A quarter of a bottle was better than nothing.

Erik let out a tired sigh, hugging him closer. Reuben could feel his warm body through the soft fabric of the shirt as Erik practically cradled his large body in his arms.

"There, you will have it very good here if you are a good horse."

"You're making it so hard!"

"Am I?" Erik asked innocently.

"Teasing me all the time, like I'm not a real person."

"You're yet to deserve more than being a horse, Copper." Erik moved back and turned his face toward the feeder, where John stood with a large bowl of stew.

Reuben could not stop a quiet growl from leaving his lips, but he didn't say anything, his mind focused on the alcohol. John crooked the bowl, letting the food fall into the feeder with a loud slap.
Good God
, there was more proper meat in it than Reuben had eaten in his entire life.

Without even a moment's pause, Reuben dove into the stew with his face. He wouldn't even care if it got into his nose.

"Ah, John, give him the potatoes!" he heard Erik say as he savored the rich, meaty sauce whose taste almost exploded on his tongue. He had never had anything so good. He'd already thought those exact words several times today, but he just couldn't help it again.

"So good!" His mouth was full, but he still felt the need to share his happiness.

Erik petted his back. "That will give you plenty of energy, won't it?"

Reuben just nodded, not caring about the food all over his face.

Suddenly the door slammed open and a middle-aged man in a dinner jacket barged into the room. "Master Erik, I am so sorry to interfere, but your brother does not want to leave without some document he says you promised to finish." His arms were rigid, and he gave Reuben a short glance that reminded him of his position. This had to be someone important, considering he looked and behaved more respectable than the master.

Reuben looked up, his face sticky and wet from the sauce. He saw Erik's face tensing with every step he took toward the door.

John seemed lost for a moment, but he eventually abandoned the cutlery he was holding and ran out behind their master, leaving Reuben on his own.

For a split second, he was stunned, his eyes darting toward the open cognac bottle on the table. He could hear the rapid throbbing of blood in his ears as his legs moved on their own accord, carrying him toward the Holy Grail. His only worry was that it would be difficult to reach the woody liquor without any hands.

He took a long breath and bent over to the table, grabbing the bottle neck in his teeth. He carefully tipped it over. Some of the alcohol spilled on his chest and face, but as soon as he knelt by the table and closed his lips around the round opening, a rush of cognac went down his throat as if God was parting the clouds in front of him. But as he learned from experience, good things were bound to end quickly. There was a furious shout from the door and he wondered if he could finish the bottle before the servant reached him—that was the advantage of a large room such as this. He sucked at the cognac for all he was worth, as if it were a mother's tit, and when strong hands finally pulled him back, he felt almost physically sick to see his 'nurse' shatter on the floor.