his flesh just once. With her, he might have been able to handle it.
His eyes shifted to the skull that sat on the floor next to the pallet. The eye sockets were black holes, and he pictured the iris-and-pupil combination that had once stared out at him. Between the teeth there was a strip of black leather about two inches wide. Traditionally words of devotion to the deceased were inscribed on it, but the strap these jaws bit down on was blank.
As he lay down, he put his head next to the thing and the past came back, the year 1802?/p>
The slave came partially awake. He was flat on his back and he ached all over, though he couldn't think of why... until he remembered going into his transition the night before. For hours he'd been crippled by the pain of his muscles sprouting, his bones thickening, his body transforming into something huge.
Strange... verily, his neck and his wrists hurt in a differing way.
He opened his eyes. The ceiling was far above him and marked with thin black bars inset into stone. When he turned his head, he saw an oak door with more bars running vertically down its thick planks. On the wall, too, there were strips of steel... In the dungeon. He was in the dungeon, but why? And he'd best get to his duties before...
He tried to sit up, but his forearms and shins were pinned down. Eyes going wide, he jerked -
"Mind y'self!" It was the blacksmith. And he was tattooing black bands on the slave's drinking points.
Oh, dear Virgin in the Fade, no. Not this...
The slave fought against the holds, and the other male looked up, annoyed. "Settle! I'll not be whipped for a fault that'd be not mine own."
"I beg of you ..." The slave's voice didn't sound right. It was too deep. "Have mercy."
He heard a soft, female laugh. The Mistress of the household had entered the cell, her long gown of white silk trailing behind her on the stone floor, her blond hair down around her shoulders.
The slave dropped his eyes as was appropriate and realized he was wholly unclothed. Flushing, embarrassed, he wished he were covered.
"You wake," she said, approaching him.
He couldn't fathom why she had come to see one of such lowly station as himself. He was a mere kitchen boy, someone beneath even the maids who cleaned her privy quarters.
"Look at me," the Mistress commanded.
He did as he was told, though it went against everything he'd ever known. He had never been allowed to meet her stare before.
What he saw in it was a shock. She was looking at him in a way no female had ever regarded him. Greed marked the refined bones of her face, her dark gaze glowing with some kind of intent he couldn't discern.
"Yellow eyes," she murmured. "How rare. How beautiful."
Her hand landed on the slave's bare thigh. He twitched at the contact, feeling uneasy. This was wrong, he thought. She shouldn't be touching him there.
"What a magnificent surprise you've presented. Rest assured, I have fed well the one who brought you to my attention."
"Mistress... I would beg you to let me go to work."
"Oh, you will." Her hand drifted across the juncture of his pelvis, where his thighs met his hips. He jumped and heard the blacksmith's soft curse. "And what a boon for me. My blood slave fell prey to an unfortunate accident this day. As soon as his quarters are renewed, you shall be moved into them."
The slave lost his breath. He'd known of the male she'd kept locked up, for he'd brought food to the cell. Sometimes, as he'd left the tray with the guards, he'd heard strange sounds coming out from behind the heavy door...
His fear must have registered on the Mistress, because she leaned over him, getting close enough so he could smell her perfumed skin. She laughed softly, as if she had taken a taste of his fright and the dish had pleased her.
"In truth, I cannot wait to have you." As she turned to leave, she glared at the blacksmith. "Mind what I said or I shall have you sent unto the dawn. Not one misstep with that needle. His skin is far too perfect to mar."
The tattooing was finished soon thereafter, and the blacksmith took the one candle with him, leaving the slave tied down on the table in the darkness.
He shook from despair and horror as his new station became real. He was now