Chapter 49

SARA 

"It’s Yvonne; she’s just incredibly angry that I’m treating you better than she thinks you deserve," Tristan said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through the room after I finished massaging the tension from his shoulders. He let out a long, satisfied sigh, rolling his neck. "She doesn't get it. She doesn't see the utility in you. Honestly, I think you should consider a career as a professional masseuse; your deft hands are truly excellent."

"Thank you for the compliment, Alpha," I told him, keeping my voice as neutral as possible while I wiped my hands on a towel. "I took a comprehensive course in physiotherapy during my time in college. I suppose some of that knowledge stayed with me."

He offered me a small, almost genuine smile—the kind that would have been charming if it weren't coming from my captor. "I have several high-priority meetings scheduled outside the pack territory today, and I’m not entirely sure I’ll be back before nightfall. Under different circumstances, I would have asked you to accompany me, but I can't risk anyone from the Crescent Moon pack spotting you and reporting back to Alpha Rune."

He stood up then, and without a shred of modesty, he undressed completely right in front of me before heading toward the en-suite bathroom.

I tried my absolute best not to stare, but it was physically impossible to look away from him. His giant, muscular frame was imposing, and I couldn't help but notice his semi-erect state as he moved. Tristan was exceptionally well-built and clearly took meticulous care of his physique. At five feet nine inches, he was taller and broader than most men I had ever encountered. I felt a pang of confusion and dread. Was this part of my new role too? Did I have to stand here and watch him undress every single day? And more importantly, was I expected to undress before him in the same casual, clinical manner?

I had questions—hundreds of them—and I couldn't wait any longer to have them answered. "While you are away, what exactly will I be doing?" I asked, raising my voice so he could hear me over the sound of the water. "Surely, I cannot stay locked up in this room forever."

He paused at the bathroom door, turned around, and walked back toward me. He stood so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his skin, and I watched, horrified and mesmerized, as he grew fully erect before my eyes.

"You are no longer just my live-in maid, Sara," he said, a dark, predatory smirk playing on his lips. "You are also my sex slave. That is the reality of your situation."

"Let me stop you right there," I snapped, the fire in my belly temporarily overcoming my fear. "I don't know what kind of twisted fantasy you think you are playing out, but I am not—and will never be—your sex slave. I won't do it."

He chuckled, a dry, mocking sound that chilled me to the bone. "I own you, Sara. Every inch, every breath, and every thought. The only reason we are not fucking on this floor right now is because I’m trying to maintain some semblance of being a gentleman. I don't know if Natalie explained the hierarchy to you, but I will detail the specific rules of engagement when I return tomorrow. For now, you are free to do as you please within these walls. Just do not step a single foot outside of the pack house. I’d hate for Alpha Rune to show up at my front porch asking for a dead girl."

He turned and disappeared into the steam of the bathroom. I stood there, frozen. He had just reminded me, quite pointedly, that the entire world believed I was dead. He was systematically killing any lingering hope of escape I had left.

"Fuck!" I cussed under my breath as the heavy door finally closed behind him a few minutes later.

I had originally wanted to go find Paige in the medical wing, but I lost all interest and energy the moment he left. I sat on the edge of the massive bed, trying to wrap my head around what the "rules" for a live-in maid would actually look like in a place this depraved.

"Are we just going to ignore the 'sex slave' part of the job description?" my wolf's voice echoed in my mind, her tone dripping with feline mockery.

"Zip it!" I yelled out loud to the empty room. But she was right. She was always right.

The logical thing would have been to go search for Natalie and find out exactly what I should expect from a man like Tristan. But I already knew Natalie was sleeping with him, and I refused to stoop that low. I didn't want to hear about his preferences or his temper from a woman who had traded her dignity for a comfortable bed. Even so, I hated the traitorous part of my mind that remembered how I had thought of him fondly during the early days of my captivity.

The next morning, I was jolted awake by the sound of Tristan’s voice. He was having a tense, heated conversation over the phone with someone. I scrambled out of the bed, my heart racing, and ran to the far corner of the room. I was wearing nothing but a tiny navy bikini—a meager scrap of fabric that left me feeling horribly exposed. I wasn't comfortable wearing such a revealing thing in his presence, but given the "wardrobe" provided to me, I didn't have much of a choice.

He was clearly angry, his voice rising to a near-shout. For some reason, I found myself praying that it wasn't Yvonne on the other end of the line. I knew that woman was a viper, and she would find any excuse to punish me for "charming" Tristan, even though I had done nothing but survive.

The air in the room was still vibrating with tension when Tristan finally ended the call. The silence that followed was heavier and more suffocating than the argument he’d just had. I stayed tucked away in my corner, my hands trembling behind my back. I had agreed to this arrangement—to be his maid, his property—but the grim reality was starting to settle in like a cold, thick fog.

Tristan didn’t look at me at first. He paced the length of the expensive Persian rug, his expression unreadable and stony, before finally coming to a halt in front of the mahogany desk. He picked up a thick, leather-bound notebook and turned to face me. The smile from the previous day was gone, replaced by the cold mask of an Alpha.

"Sit," he commanded.

I started to move toward a nearby chair, but he held up a sharp, silencing hand.

"On the floor, Sara. Get used to the view from down there."

I felt a sting of humiliation, but I complied, sinking to my knees. The hardwood floor bit into my skin, cold and unforgiving.

"If we are going to make this arrangement work," Tristan said, his voice dropping to a low, melodic silk that made my skin crawl with apprehension, "you need to understand my expectations perfectly. Yvonne believes I’m being far too lenient with you. I intend to prove her wrong."

"I don't understand," I whispered, feigning a degree of oblivion I didn't truly feel. "Prove her wrong how?"

"You are my live-in maid and my sex slave," he repeated, looking down at me. "But since you’ve made it clear you find the latter role distasteful, I’ve decided to focus on the rules for my maid. Since your service is an act of atonement for your crimes against my late mate, I have taken the liberty of ensuring that the rules are... stringent."

A devilish, cruel smirk appeared on his lips as he opened the notebook.

"Tristan, please," I pleaded, my voice small. "Have mercy on me."

"This is me having mercy on you, Sara," he stated in a voice that was meant to be comforting but felt like a noose. "If you recall, I promised I would never allow anyone else to touch you again. This is the price of that protection."