Nothing.
Just a means to an end. A tool to be used. Dirt beneath her feet.
And he kept coming back to the reality that she was in his home. Just down the stairs and one long hallway...
His stomach heaved. Darling rolled from the bed and stumbled to his bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet in time.
His body was really not happy with him.
Gah, he'd drank himself stupid last night. He felt like complete crap.
Maybe Maris was right.
It was time for him to finally shower.
"What is taking so long? Are you an idiot retard or just lazy?"
Zarya counted to ten so that she didn't grab one of the knives on the nearby table and cut the cook's throat with it. She was getting really tired of the offensive insults and abuse dealt to her. Not just from the cook, but by all of them.
She was a trained soldier, not a domestic. Since they'd eaten mostly table scraps since her father had been branded a traitor, cooking had never been a skill she'd had an opportunity to pick up.
The ability to kill bitches...
That was something she was more than proficient at.
Calm down, Z, calm down. They're not worth a death sentence.
But if they didn't lay off her, she might reconsider.
And now that she had clothes again, she'd be able to escape tonight. One way or another, she wasn't about to spend a single second longer as a slave than she had to. Collar or no collar, she was out of here. And damn anyone who came after her because they wouldn't live long enough to regret it.
Part of her wanted to stay for Darling and keep the promise she'd made last night, but at this point, she was done. He didn't want her and she wasn't going to put up with this kind of abuse, waiting for him to come to senses he most likely didn't have anymore.
Screw him. If he didn't want her, she didn't want him--plain and simple.
His life might not mean anything to him, but hers meant something to her and she'd be damned if she would spend it waiting on a man. Any man. She might be a lot of things. Stupid wasn't one of them.
The kitchen bitches had been riding her since they'd dragged her out of her closet at dawn. Nothing she did was right and she was done with the pinches, slaps, and insults.
No man was worth this.
She tightened her grip on the extremely heavy tray of vegetables that the head cow wanted on the cook's prep table. There was no reason in it being piled so high...
Suddenly, she hit a really slick spot on the floor. Before she could catch her balance, her feet came out from under her.
No!
But the gods weren't listening to her right now. Apparently they needed entertainment and lucky her, she was their chosen buffoon. The vegetables flew everywhere as she slammed down on the hard floor. Her elbow hit first, then her head bounced off the tile.
For a minute, the unexpected pain stunned her as stars dimmed her vision.
"Get up, you lazy, worthless whore." The cook viciously kicked her in the ribs. "Clean this mess up. Now!"
Zarya clamped down tight on the desire to physically retaliate for that. The cook was a freewoman. She was a slave.
If Zarya attacked her...
She's not worth your life.
Tell that to her base anger that didn't want to listen to her brain. It wanted blood...
Rolling over, Zarya pushed herself up, then hissed as she realized she'd sprained her ankle in the fall. Yeah, that was just what she needed. Let's make running from here as hard as possible on me, shall we?
"Crap," she breathed, trying to put weight on it in spite of the pain. By the gods, she wasn't going to give these cows the satisfaction of knowing she was hurt.
"What now?" The cook slapped her. "I've never seen anyone so worthless. No wonder the governor threw you to me." She grabbed Zarya by the hair and started pulling her across the room.
"Let her go." Those growled words came out in a deep staccato beat that emphasized the fury and unspoken threat beneath them.
The cook freed her instantly and bowed low. "Yes, Your Majesty."
Everyone in the kitchen immediately stopped what they were doing to follow suit.
Stunned, but refusing to bow down to anyone, Zarya straightened to see Darling just inside the kitchen doorway. From behind his gold mask, those merciless blue eyes cut her to the bone. It was obvious he wanted blood, too.
Her blood.
Without another word, he closed the distance between them with long, furious strides.
Zarya held her breath and tensed her entire body, waiting for him to attack her.
Instead, he swept her up in his arms and carried her from the room as if she weighed nothing at all. She couldn't have been more shocked had he slapped her. At least that she'd expected.
This...
She couldn't comprehend his kindness given the way he glared at her. He didn't speak a single word as he carried her through the palace, back to his study where someone had cleaned up the mess from the night before. His desk looked as if it'd never been upturned.
Still silent, he set her down on his burgundy leather sofa and knelt in front of her.
Then to her complete amazement, he picked her foot up to examine it.
"Your Majesty--"
"Don't speak to me," he ground out between his clenched teeth. But the tenderness in his touch as he felt her foot for broken bones belied the hostility in that sharp command.
Without meeting her gaze, he got up and went to his desk where he buzzed his staff. "I need a medic in my office immediately."
"Ke--"
He held his hand up in a sharp gesture that instantly silenced her. He turned his head to pin her with a furious glower that was evident even with that featureless mask covering his face. "What did I tell you?"
"Not to speak."
"Then I suggest you obey me."
Zarya arched a brow at that imperious command.
Oh no, he didn't...
"Obey? Obey!" she repeated as her own anger ignited. No one said that to her. Not even if he owned the galaxy! Which Darling actually did, but that didn't matter. "I know you did not just use that word with me."
He growled at her. "Woman, if you have an ounce of self-preservation, you will heed my orders to be silent. Right. Now."
She glared at him. That arrogant, imperial tone destroyed every last piece of common sense she possessed. "Fine. Shove it straight where the sun doesn't shine, buddy. You don't talk to me like that. No one does. I'm done with this and with you!" She got up and limped for the door.
Before she could take more than four steps, he was there, sweeping her feet out from under her again. He cradled her against his chest.
It took everything she had not to punch him. "Put me down!"
Darling wanted to choke her. His breathing ragged, all he could think about was hurting her until she begged him for mercy.
That thought took him straight back to Clarion and Pip, and his days under their "tender" care.
"I've had to eat shit from the aristocracy my whole life. It's time you choke on it, too, you rich prick. You and your kind gave us nothing as you ate your fine, overpriced dinners and lounged around while we worked until our hands bled. So we're not going to give you any mercy either. For once, you can choke on our shit."
He ground his teeth as he fought against the pain of that memory and countless others that refused to give him any peace or quarter.
But as Zarya's scent filled his head and she glared at him with high color in her cheeks, he remembered something so much better. Nights of being held and loved. Nights when they'd been together and she'd breathed a life and warmth into him that he'd never known before.
Gods, how he missed those times. The sound of her sweet voice in his ear while he was deep inside her. Of her lips buried against his throat...
Suddenly another urge rose up inside him to quell the others as he remembered how good it felt to slide into her body.
At leas
t he finally knew that part of him still worked properly, and thankfully there was no pain with it. Well, nothing more than what was normal when a man went this long without sex.
And that didn't help his resistance toward her either...
His gaze dropped down to the low cut of the cheap dress she wore. One that didn't fit her at all. The entire top swell of her breasts hung out of it, making his mouth water for a taste of her. Even now, he could taste her skin as he imagined her sliding her fingers through his hair.
He hadn't touched a woman in over a year. Not since the night he'd asked her to marry him.
Those buried emotions rose up to play even more havoc with him, especially as her breath tickled his ear.
In that moment, he forgot his bitter rage as he went right back to that time and place when he'd lived for no other reason than to be in her arms. She was all he'd ever had...
All he'd ever wanted.
And she was here, in his arms.
So close he really could taste her...
Zarya froze as she saw the heated look in his eyes. It wasn't anger anymore.
It was desire. He stared at her as if he could eat her up and relish every bite.
This was the man she remembered so well. The one who had made her so happy. The only one she'd ever lived for.
The only man she'd been willing to die for.
Licking her lips, she could already taste his kiss. Come back to me, baby. It'd been way too long.
He dipped his head toward hers...
A knock sounded on the door.
Instantly, his entire body went rigid. She silently cursed and condemned whoever was on the other side of that door as the moment was broken and he pulled back. The anger returned to his gaze full force.
Darling returned her to the sofa. "Enter," he growled, stepping away from her.
The medic hesitated in the doorway. Tall, slender, and blond, she was extremely attractive in her dark blue uniform. Something that made Zarya feel like a ragamuffin Darling had dragged in from the trash bin.
The medic bowed low to Darling. "You summoned me, Your Majesty?"
He gestured toward Zarya. "She injured her ankle."
The medic came forward to tend her foot while he left them alone.
The minute he was out of the room, the medic let out a long breath in relief. She looked up at Zarya. "What did he do to you, hon?"
The question confused her. "He carried me in here."
The medic indicated her foot. "What did he do to sprain your ankle? Did he beat you?"
Why on earth would the woman think that? "I slipped on the floor."
Zarya could tell the medic didn't believe her as she pulled out a scanner and ran it over her foot and calf. "If he hurts you again, call for Senna, or Dr. Yerzan. That's me, and I'll document his abuse. If you want, I can even tell him that we need to transfer you to the hospital for observation. That should get you out of his hands for at least a day. Maybe longer, if we're lucky."
The woman was serious...
Not sure if she should be appalled or amused by the medic's erroneous assumptions, Zarya stared at her. "Governor Cruel did not hurt me. I fell in the kitchen."
Senna set her scanner aside. "Look, I know you're afraid of him. We all are, but--"
"I'm not afraid."
Her green eyes glittered with disbelief. "I suppose you're going to tell me that he didn't hit you either?"
There was no amusement now. The woman's stubborn insistence and inability to hear what Zarya was saying was beginning to really piss her off. "What are you talking about?"
"The contusion on your cheek. I see the outline of his entire hand where he slapped you. Not to mention the contusion on your elbow and the handprint bruise on your upper arm."
"He didn't do that. The cook did."
"Yeah, right."
Zarya was appalled by her accusations. Why would she assume Darling had beat her? "Would you listen to me? Governor Cruel has not hurt me."
Senna rolled her eyes dismissively. "At least you don't have to worry about him raping you. I guess that's one blessing. Though I've heard he has other perversions for women."
Oh this she had to hear. "Such as?"
"He likes to kill them, then dress in their clothes... especially their panties."
Zarya would have burst into laughter had that not been so ludicrous.
Could they honestly think Darling did that? Really?
Maris was right. They were all blind. Brainless. And ridiculous.
Inconceivable...
Senna leaned forward as if she were imparting a grave secret to her. "It's why his mother and sister refuse to visit him, you know. They are even more terrified of him than they were the Grand Counsel. As soon as the governor took power and murdered his uncle, all the women--his aunt, and her daughters, his mother and sister moved out... Literally, the very next day." She glanced toward the door before she lowered her voice. "You know, the governor's been confined to mental wards six times since his teens."
They'd even twisted that. How disgusting.
"Yes. His uncle did it to torture him. It wasn't because there was anything wrong with Darling."
"Wow..." Senna sat back on her legs to gape at her. "What has he done to you? Some kind of mind control? I'll have to add that to the list. We knew he made weapons... It only makes sense he could create something to also mess with the brain, too."
Zarya's jaw went slack.
But before she could say anything more to contradict the medic, Darling returned to the room.
Her hands shaking, the medic quickly wrapped Zarya's ankle. "It's not bad at all, Your Majesty. She barely twisted it." Senna met Zarya's gaze. "Keep it iced and don't put any weight on it for about a week and it should be back to normal, very quickly. I sent a prescription for painkillers and a speed healer to the pharm tech. They will have it delivered as soon as possible." She stood and bowed to Darling. "Is there anything else you need, Your Majesty?"
He barely glanced at her as he walked to his desk. "You're dismissed."
Senna hurried from the room as if she was terrified Darling might shoot her before she could clear the doors.
Never had Zarya seen the like. It absolutely blew her mind apart that anyone would say such horrible things about a man who'd lived his entire life fighting to give all of them a better life.
"They are terrified of you."
Darling opened the bottle of whisky on his desk, then reached inside a drawer to pull out a small shot glass. "Good." He poured the glass full.
How could he be so blase? Did he not know about the rumors?
Or did he just not care?
"Not really." He needed to understand how dangerous these things could be. "I mean, they are... Words fail me to describe their skewed beliefs. They really think you're worse than your uncle."
He knocked back the shot glass, then poured another. "I am worse than my uncle. Unlike him, I'm trained to kill with my bare hands."
"So it doesn't bother you to have people tremble in fear around you?"
He still refused to look at her. "Should it? As long as they're scared, they won't attack."
Yeah, right. He had to know better. Was he being obstinate to annoy her? "I wouldn't bet on it."
"Then let them try," he said in a low, deadly tone. "I could use the target practice."
He definitely had the skills to warrant that bragging right, but she'd seen a lot of good soldiers fall over the years. Nothing took them down faster than the misconstrued belief that no one could get the drop on them, or outgun them.
"Arrogance comes before the fall."
He knocked back another drink and laughed bitterly. "I'm already in the gutter. There's not much farther down I can go." He poured yet another shot, then brought it over and offered it to her.
She cringed as she realized he was drinking Tondarion Fire--a hard liquor so potent it was banned by most civilized governments. It was a miracle he still had a stomach lining left after drinkin
g it. "No, thank you, Your Majesty. I don't drink that."
"Get assaulted enough and you'll learn to." He spoke those words in a tone so low, she wasn't sure she heard them correctly as he walked back to his desk.
"Why did you bring me here?" she asked.
He drank her whisky, too. Then he finally set the glass down. "Were you unconscious or inhaling fumes? Maris brought you here. Not me."
She scoffed at him. "Obviously something's wrong with me, 'cause I could have sworn it was you, and not Maris, who carried me into this room a few minutes ago."
"Consider it a momentary lack of sanity. Something I've had a lot of lately." He raked a sneer over her dress. "Wherever did you find those rags?"
His question cut what little vanity she possessed, but she would die before she allowed him to know that.
Still, there was poetic justice in what had been done to her. That should lighten his dour mood somewhat. "You'll be happy to know they stripped all my clothes off me last night and stole them. This is what they threw at me to wear this morning."
He went completely still. "Why should I be happy about that?"
"I figured you'd think it karmic retribution for what was done to you."
Those furious blue eyes bored into her. "You never really knew me at all, did you?"
"I knew you. I knew every thought in your head."
"Then what am I thinking now?" His tone held a fierce challenge it.
But there was no need in that. "I don't know anymore. You never showed me this side of you."
"And what side is that?"
"The aristo who treats everyone around him like they're beneath him."
He laughed bitterly. "Then we're even."
"How so?"
"You never showed me the ruthless bitch side of you."
Now that set her temper on fire. How dare he! "That's not fair."
"Not fair?" He snarled those two words. "Not fair is watching my baby sister get shot in the back by a weapon I made for you." He stormed across the room to tower over where she sat on his sofa. "Not fair is hearing a man I fought beside, tell other people I'd put my ass on the line for, that 'the bitch' is dead. That bitch is the same age as your sister, and I feel the same way about her that you do for Sorche. So don't you dare talk to me about fairness."
Her throat tightened at every angry word he spat at her. She heard and she understood. If that had been done to Sorche, she'd be out for blood, too.
But she had to put at least part of the record straight. "I did not give that to Clarion. He stole it from me."