Missing Heart

Missing Heart- Chapter Eight

    “Trust me lovely. Nothing really pleases Lord VonChante, so don’t worry yourself about him.” He tilted his head to the side. “So why are you in the bath if not for the party?”

    Mare looked down and twirled a finger in the silky water. “He showed up mid daylight.”

    Derrick held him hands up. “I understand.” He walked over to one side of the tub. On the ledge was a sponge that he added a lavender liquid soap to. He knelt down at the edge of the tub near her and started to wash her back for her. “Will you talk about it?”

    His scrubbing felt nice. Like a massage. “It wasn’t bad.”

    “But I bet he was really rough?”

    “Not really. I think that's the problem.”

    “Why’s that?” He moved to her arms and scrubbed.

    “I thought he would be rough being so cold all the time, but he wasn’t. Though I have nothing to compare him with.”

    “You don’t remember?” Derrick assumed that was what she was referring to. That she just couldn’t remember her life.

    “I was a virgin.”

    Derrick’s hand stop. “Well wasn’t that a nice gift. He probably haloed you into liking it.”

    “He barely commanded me with it.”

    He lifted up my chin to look at him. “You were willing?” She timidly nodded. “Damn girl, you are his mistress.” Before his eyes, tears streamed down her face. “Sorry lovely, but like you said, he wasn’t rough with you which means you’re not to bad off for the party.” He rinsed her back and held out a towel for her. “Come on. I’ll get you ready for the party.”

    “Turn you head please. You maybe more into guys, but I would feel more comfortable.” Derrick chuckled as he looked behind him. His eyes grew wide when he saw Lord VonChante watching them closely with his arms crossed. His lordship’s jaw was clenched while he watched her step out of the tub oblivious to his lordship watching. Lord VonChante left from the doorway before she could see him watching from her room.

    Marcus cursed at himself for checking on her. Though he will admit to just himself that he was honored that she told even a gay guy to turn his head away from her naked body. He liked that she did it. She felt she was his. That she knew and felt his claim on her.

    Marcus sat down at the dinette table in her room. He needed to know how she ate. Was it with manners or like a total barbarian like most humans? He would have to know to see if she could eat at the party. He didn’t care but so much. It was just for his reputation that she must eat properly. She will reflect upon him.

    He placed the transmitter band on the table. He was only going to use it if necessary. He hated the bands to begin with. Sure he designed them, but they have been twisted into something else. Something he isn’t sure he likes. But he must deal with it. It was his creation and it lives and is used.

    Marcus waited patiently for Derrick to finish with Mare. He was bored that he kept touching the transmitter band. The shiny sleek casing of the wires and interrogate computer components that wrapped around the lower edge of the scull and hooked around the ears to secure it in place laid at his finger tips. He had come up with that solution of securing the device to one’s head on the spot. Duke Shaw came up with the programs that this device houses within its computer components. So complex that even he couldn’t completely understand everything in the programming. He was smart but not computer smart like Shaw. Together they made this contraption.

    His mind then wondered to Count Notre. His other ‘friend’. The Count found uses and markets for the device. It was through him it started in the prisons, then off to private homes. Even some therapists use it to help people. Marcus didn’t care if it helped, but he hated the reports of people being forced to wear it. Now he had someone forced to wear it, but now he is stuck. He can’t or won’t take it off her. She is now his drug. He needed her.

    Marcus was shocked out of his thoughts when the bathroom door opened. He nonchalantly looked over to see her in her gown standing looking at him wide eyed. He kept himself from swallowing hard at the sight of her. A drug. She was defiantly a drug for him. He felt intoxicated as he looked her over.

    The boat neckline of the gown was covered in beads that sparkled in the minimal light the sconces in her room cast. The blood red color of her outfit looked splendid with her lightly tanned coloring. Her waistline was well defined by more beadwork that looked almost like a corset over top of the fabric of the gown. The dress flowed down her body to slightly flare around her calves with more beadwork dotting the bottom like little ruby stars. The back had the faintest of trains.

    She slowly watched and Marcus noticed how lady like she moved. She moved with grace and delicateness. She even sat like a lady at the table across from him. Her legs only crossed at her ankles. He head bowed down not looking at him.

    “Eat.” His command was like a whip at her. His cold demeanor had not slipped like his mind had. He was appraising her and liking what he had seen. How could he have slipped so easily?

    Mare quietly lifted the napkin and placed it in her lap. She felt shaky as she knew he was watching every move she made. Analyzing everything she did. She may not like it, but she was just too hungry to not eat. She was even more thankful that Derrick had put her hair up with a few wisps down her back of soft curls.

    Marcus was only the slightest bit impressed with her table manners. She eat like she walked. Delicately and gently. He knew she understood that he was watching her with scrutinizing interest. She was doing well under the pressure. Not a drop spilled or crumb fell as she ate and drank her breakfast. She even didn’t eat everything. From being full or for being proper, he couldn’t tell.

    When she set her silverware down and five minutes passed, he rose without a word and left. So she could be proper, big deal. She could have just mimicked what others have done before. Some gypsies could do that to survive, but he saw more. The way she picked certain pieces of food looked to be from training. Who the hell is she?

    Mare sighed a breathe of relief when Lord VonChante left her room. He didn’t looked displeased with her even if he didn’t speak. She was seeing the subtle ways he held himself and presented himself. She knew he was only there to see how she ate and nothing more. There was nothing more between them. What happened mid day stays there. It meant nothing to him or...her...