CHAPTER NINETEEN

Kade

I understood now. Lying beneath my master, feeling his body move inside mine, I finally understood what he wanted from me.

It had taken me over a week to figure it out, but I’d first had the inkling I was onto something when I’d seen my master’s tears at the funeral. I suspected I knew the reason he’d taken me with him, though I’d needed to confirm the purpose of the ceremony before I’d known for certain.

There was a contradiction here, one that I wasn’t sure even he was aware of. What he needed from a dimari was someone to protect him. That had been abundantly clear out in the jungle, when the Culrads had tried to kill him three times in one day – four if you counted the explosion before he’d opened my crate.

But what he wanted was a companion.

That was why we’d been so at odds with each other, neither of us understanding what the other was trying to achieve. That was why he hadn’t bought clothes for me before I’d arrived. He didn’t just want me to wear appropriate clothing. He wanted to go shopping with me . That was why he kept asking what type of food I wanted, or what channel I wanted to watch. He didn’t necessarily want my opinion; he wanted conversation. He wanted someone to talk to, to share ideas with, to make the world a richer and more interesting place.

I’d been trained as a combat specialist, but I was entirely familiar with the role of a domestic companion. A domestic servant was trained to run a household, to keep things clean and raise children and keep the bills in order. But a domestic companion was trained to attend social occasions, to spark interesting conversation about current events, to understand fashion and to enjoy high class meals in fancy restaurants. It was certainly not what I had been trained to do. But I fully understood the desire in my master to have someone to do those things with .

I supposed that his decision made sense. If it was a choice between being killed, or having a talented partner to attend parties with, then combat specialist would win out every time.

But I was adaptable. I could learn. I could improvise.

I’d wondered if I was overstepping the mark when I’d removed his shoes and offered him clothes to wear. A domestic servant would never be so bold. But a companion could get away with such things, offering suggestions and gently prodding their master into motion.

I could have easily mistaken my master’s actions in bed for lust, or a sign that he approved of my new attempts to please him. But I was smarter than that. This was an outpouring of grief, or perhaps a startled realisation that he was still alive, when he could have died so easily. That was why he’d taken me to the funeral. He needed me to comfort him. He needed to lose himself, and I was the vehicle through which he could do that.

“Fuck… Kade…” His voice was a strangled moan, and his hand gripped my ass, lifting me so he could thrust more deeply. I understood now. I could be what he needed, and what he wanted, at the same time.

I cradled his head as his body shuddered, his climax spilling inside me as he groaned into my shoulder. “Fuck… Oh, god,” he muttered, and I was learning that he tended to curse a lot when he climaxed. He went still, his hot breath puffing out damp against my scales.

Once he’d caught his breath a little, he lifted up, reaching between us to grasp my cock…only to pull back in surprise as he felt the sticky wetness already smeared on my belly. He looked me in the eye for the first time since he’d entered me. “You’ve, um… You’ve already…”

He’d said I could come when I wanted to, and I’d taken that permission at face value. And to be honest, he seemed surprised, but not upset that I’d already climaxed. “You’re very good at that,” I said, and he laughed unexpectedly.

“This time around, I think I was pretty terrible,” he said, pulling carefully out of me. “Too up in my own head to take care of you properly.” He eyed the mess again, clear evidence that contradicted his words. “But we can work on that,” he said with a shrug, flopping down beside me.

I got up, retreating to the bathroom to clean myself up – he’d said before that he didn’t like messy sheets – then I returned to the bed. This time, I didn’t fret that I was wasting the afternoon by lounging about. I now understood that this was where my master wanted me; cuddling, stroking, making him feel warm and cosy, rather than dashing about the house making sure everything was clean.

It was going to be an adjustment, figuring out all the nuances of when he wanted my company and when he wanted to be left alone to work. But I was up for the challenge. I was smart. I was adaptable. This time, I was certain, everything was going to be fine.