Enthralled (The Enslaved Duet 1)

It reminded me vividly of the time in my life I loved myself the least, when I let another person control my body to the point of physical pain and mental ineptitude.

I could feel the cycle starting again, this time with a new man.

At least this one had the decency to outright label himself my Master.

Landon Knox had only ever masqueraded as my friend and mentor in order to use me for his own personal and financial gains.

So far, Alexander Davenport seemed to only want to fuck me.

They were both disgusting.

I wanted to damn all men to hell, but I clung to the goodness I knew was inlaid in Sebastian’s heart. He was the most loving man I’d ever know. The bravest, the most loyal, and by far and away, the most beautiful inside and out.

The thought of my twin warmed my heart even as it crumbled at the edges, rotting through the core with neglect.

I didn’t have a lot growing up, but I’d always had the love of my mother and siblings.

Now, I didn’t even have that.

“Let me help you, bairn,” the woman slid beside me, wrapping a warm arm around my waist as we walked toward the bathtub. “You’ll catch your death as you are. I have a mind to take Master Alexander over my knee as I did when he was a wee one.”

The idea of this short, soft older woman spanking a grown man let alone a sheer predator like Alexander was nearly outrageous enough to make me laugh. Instead, I allowed her to hold my hand while I placed one foot into the stinging heat of the bath water.

An aroma of hot ginger, vanilla, and musk surrounded me as I sank with a deep sigh into the hot, silky water. The oil-scented water went right up to my protruding clavicles, but it wasn’t enough. Before my caretaker could protest, I dunked my head and floated near the bottom, my hair curling like ink in the liquid. Even the chain linked to my ankle felt diaphanous in the velvet depths. Submerged, I could squeeze my eyes tight and imagine I was being reborn, saved in the womb until the moment it was safe for me to begin life anew.

A life without greedy men who were all too willing to use women as pawns in their selfish games.

Two hands plunged into the water by my shoulders and pulled me into the air, a midwife wrenching me out of the womb too soon.

I burst through the water with a sob.

“Gentle yourself, sweet bairn,” the older woman cooed in her thick accent as she stroked her hands down my hair and then settled it over the lip of the tub so it dripped to the floor. “There is nothing to worry yourself about now. Let Mrs. White take care of you.”

It was good to have a name to put to her face, even if it was a little creepy that she referred to herself in the third person.

Everything about this place was creepy, though, so I resolved myself to get used to it.

Mrs. White lathered her hands in spicy scented shampoo that almost perfectly matched the aroma of the bath water. Something nudged at the back of my mind, telling me that I should recognize the distinctive smell, but the pleasure of her hands sinking suddenly into my locks and rubbing firmly at my skull erased my unease.

“We haven’t had a girl here in absolute ages,” Mrs. White was saying when I clued in enough to understand the thick lilt in her speech. “It will be good to have some young blood in the house again to invigorate us.”

“Us?” I asked innocently.

“The staff have been idle too long,” she tutted as her strong thumbs rubbed the shampoo into wide circles over my scalp. “We used to be a great hub of society here at Pearl Hall, you know? Why, we’ve hosted every generation of the Royal Family since the days of Queen Elizabeth I. Of course, I don’t blame Master Alexander for being away from home doing his duty to this family and their various enterprises. I’m grateful they’ve the means to run a full household when most great families these days have to turn their grand estates in gaudy hotels and wedding venues,” she finished, aghast.

“How horrible,” I sympathized, eager to develop a rapport with the loquacious woman.

“We are one of the few remaining private estates in the country,” she told me proudly as she pushed me forward gently in the rub and used a pitcher of warm water to rinse out my hair. “Pearl Hall has been a jewel in the architectural crown of the United Kingdom since it’s construction in the 1500s.”

“And Lord Thornton?” I asked.

It shouldn’t have made much of a difference, but I preferred to address him as Lord Thornton, a title that others were also forced to address him by, than as Master Alexander.