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  “Have you kept in contact with any of them?”

  Ori shook his head. “No, sir.”

  Raynard glanced at Ori as they stopped at a junction but he made no further comment. There was no point confusing the boy, making him think his employer was going to be his new best friend. A few minutes later, they pulled into the curved drive in front of Raynard Lodge.

  Unfolding himself from within the tight confines of the car, Raynard looked up at the building. The expression on the duckling’s face as he did the same might have been funny in other circumstances. Awe and horror filled Ori’s eyes as he peered up at the dilapidated gothic monstrosity. He was probably regretting accepting a place in Raynard’s house already—and he hadn’t even seen inside the damn thing yet.

  Raynard strode up to the front door. He twisted the heavy iron key back and forth in the lock until he chanced on the right combination of wrist actions to make the bloody contraption cooperate with his inclination to enter what was to be his new home now that he was required to take his uncle’s place in the Anderson Nest’s hierarchy.

  Raynard went in, but Ori hesitated halfway over the threshold.

  “There may be a servants’ entrance somewhere,” Raynard informed him. “But from what I’ve seen of my uncle’s organisational skills, it would take a search team weeks to find the key to it.”

  Ori stepped inside and attempted to close the front door behind him—with very little success. Reaching over Ori’s shoulder, Raynard pushed high up on the edge of the door, forcing it into its frame.

  It slammed with a bang. Ori jumped. Springing away from the door, he backed straight into Raynard.

  A hawk’s reaction time was far faster than a duckling’s. Steadying them fell to Raynard. Grabbing Ori’s shoulder with one hand, Raynard slid his other arm around Ori’s waist and pulled him in safely against his body.

  There wasn’t much of Ori that Raynard hadn’t already inspected. The skimpy black shorts hadn’t hidden a lot from those he was serving. Still, seeing something, and having it pressed intimately against him, were two very different things.

  The duckling froze, not even drawing a breath as they stood in the gloom of the hallway. It had been far too long since Raynard had made time to bring another man close and enjoy what his body could offer.

  Ori wouldn’t say no.

  Raynard closed his eyes for a moment. Ori wouldn’t have said no to the crows in the kitchen or any other man in the nest either. Raynard forced himself to step back and put some distance between them before he forgot why he’d brought the boy home with him in the first place.

  Turning his back on his new servant, he looked around the hallway. The place didn’t need one servant—it needed an army of them—which was rather what he’d had intended to hire when he went to the nest.

  Raynard looked over his shoulder and found Ori watching him very carefully from a position just to the left of the door. He dropped his eyes as Raynard glanced toward him.

  “Do you have any questions?”

  Ori swallowed rapidly before he attempted to speak. Even then, his words were softly spoken. “How may I serve you, sir?”

  Raynard considered the question carefully. The response had probably been taught to him by rote, but there was a hint of true submission in his tone of voice. He wasn’t just asking because he’d been taught to—he was asking because he really wanted to know.

  Ori’s attention dropped to the floor. Raynard’s followed it. The tiles had probably been magnificent once upon a time. They might be again, when the dust was cleared away.

  “It’s late,” Raynard decided. “We’ll discuss your duties tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  If the rooms Raynard had already investigated were anything to go by, it would probably take them an hour or more to find the servants’ quarters and discover what sort of state they were in. By that time, Raynard was sure they’d both be more than ready for bed—for their separate beds, Raynard reminded himself.

  “Follow me.” Without looking over his shoulder to see if his order was being obeyed, Raynard set off toward a door he was reasonably confident led below stairs. The sound of his footsteps actually changed as he left the little pathway his previous footfalls had left in the dust.

  He’d made one path to the master bedroom and another to his late uncle’s study. The rest of the house hadn’t really changed since he arrived a few weeks before.

  The little door was tucked away almost out of sight, under the arch of the stairs. Lowering his head to avoid the treads overhead, Raynard pulled it open and groped around in the darkness for a light switch. A bare bulb flickered to life a third of the way down the stairs. Another guttered and promptly died another third of the way down.

  As Raynard made his way into an even darker gloom than that which filled the main part of the house, he heard Ori descending a few steps behind him. He could only guess that the younger man was wondering what the hell he’d got himself into.

  Reaching the bottom of the flight, Raynard made his way along a dismal, flagstone paved corridor. The kitchen, when they emerged into it, was little better. Everything was still draped in dustsheets after the previous servants closed up this part of the house. The curtains were drawn halfway across the window. There was barely enough light to make out the outlines of the larger items of furniture.

  “There should be some sort of butler’s quarters somewhere,” Raynard said, nodding to one of the corridors leading off the kitchen.

  Ori dutifully approached the first door and tried it. Peeking inside, he closed it before moving on to the next one, then the next one.

  Working his way along the corridor to the other side of the kitchen, Raynard discovered room after room which would have bustled with dozens of staff when the house was in its heyday, but which now lay abandoned. Finally, he heard Ori call out.

  “I think I might have found it, sir.”

  Raynard strode back into the kitchen and looked around the room. Ori had found the room, now all Raynard had to do was track down the damn duckling. He stood silently in the middle of the kitchen, but Ori made no sound.

  “Ori?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  Raynard strode toward the sound of Ori’s voice. Third time lucky, he found an open door that revealed another open door, and finally Ori standing in the middle of yet another shrouded room. One of the dustsheets had been pulled back to reveal the edge of a bed.

  “Have to tie a ball of string to you before I let you out of my sight,” Raynard muttered to himself.

  Ori blinked at him as their eyes chanced to meet.

  “Damn place is a maze,” Raynard bit out. He reached for one of the other dustsheets, but found Ori there before him. The little fledgling was obviously eager to make a good first impression. Raynard stepped back into the doorway and watched as Ori carefully removed and folded each huge expanse of fabric.

  The room had obviously been furnished with the cast offs from the main part of the house—apparently around the time when deep carving and dark wood had just stopped being the latest fashion.

  Raynard looked around the room. It would do. A glance toward Ori found him looking more than a little sceptical. Raynard pushed that aside. He was only a fledgling after all—it couldn’t be easy for him having been raised with no understanding of what kind of man his species would lead him to be.

  As he stared at Ori, Raynard found himself trying to imagine what it must be like, not knowing who he really was, what his place in the world should be. When Ori failed to speak of his own volition, Raynard saw little choice but to nudge him on. “Ori?”

  “I don’t need all this, sir. I could just…” He looked back to the kitchen as if he’d have been content to find some draughty little corner and curl up on the flagstone floor, as if that was what the nest had taught him to expect.

  Raynard shook his head. There was no such thing as too soon to start showing the boy how he should hav
e been treated at the nest. But at the same time, it was difficult to believe that Ori was in any condition to take anything in at that late hour. “We’ll discuss the details tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ori looked to his bed. Raynard followed his gaze then quickly looked away, before the sight of it gave him ideas that had no place in his mind. “Get some sleep.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Raynard forced himself to turn away. He was out in the kitchen before he heard the boy speak again.

  “You asked if I had any questions, sir?”

  Raynard turned back to him and nodded his permission to ask.

  “What would you like for breakfast, sir?”

  Raynard looked around the kitchen. It would be far easier to summon up a ghost than a meal in there. “We’ll dig out some coffee in the morning,” he promised. Then, they’d go and get some real food. He might not have brought the boy into the kind of house he’d have liked to be able to provide to anyone he took under his protection, but at least he could see to it that he was well fed.

  As he climbed the last of the stairs to the master bedroom, Raynard pushed his hand through his hair, disordering the brown waves. A suitcase stood open on the ancient chest in the corner of the room. The bed was in the same crumpled mess as he’d left it that morning. Apart from that, it was still very much his uncle’s domain.

  He’d have to do something about that. Raynard muttered a few well-chosen curses under his breath; he’d been saying as much since he stepped into the damn house. He draped his clothes over the back of the chair by the dressing table as he stripped them off, then strode across to the bed. Collapsing naked against the sheets, he felt his exhaustion in every muscle.

  Putting his uncle’s financial and business affairs in order wasn’t hard physical work, but it was mentally draining. Inheriting such a mess was an embarrassment in itself. Going from place to place and trying to piece together what his cantankerous old relative had been involved with was a special brand of torture. Having to admit his ignorance of what were now his own business deals over and over again was worse than a whipping.

  And he hadn’t had time to shift in what felt like forever. As he closed his eyes, he waited to see the wide, blue expanse of sky materialise in his mind just as it did every night, reminding him that no shifter could ignore the other side of himself forever.

  No blue skies appeared, just a pair of brown eyes, staring back at him with that perfect look of submission. Ori’s mottled brown hair was a mess, as if someone had taken a firm grip on the strands at some point, and they’d never quite settled into place since.

  As Raynard’s mind’s eye drew back, his attention trailed down the fledgling’s frame, and his body started to react to the sight. His hand had been resting idly against his stomach, now it slid down toward his cock.

  Flight wasn’t the only thing he hadn’t had time for. Raynard opened his eyes, but the temptation to set that right didn’t ease. A glance up at the shadow hanging to the right hand side of the bed, and it doubled twice over.

  The bell pull’s cables led down to the servant’s quarters. Ori wasn’t stupid. When he heard the bell, he’d realise he was being summoned and follow the paths in the dust like a good servant. He’d soon find his way to Raynard’s room, to his bed.

  Raynard closed his eyes. The image of Ori couldn’t compare to having the actual man there, but if it was all he could permit himself without turning into something as contemptible as the bastards at the nest then…

  Raynard stroked his fingers slowly up and down his shaft. His touch was barely more than a tease, but the image of Ori standing in the nest wearing nothing more than that skimpy pair of shorts, still had him quickly hard.

  In his private little fantasy, he saw Ori hook his thumbs into the waistband and push the shorts slowly down his legs. He glanced up at Raynard as he stepped out of them, just a little bit shy now he was completely bare before him, hard cock exposed for his inspection.

  He stepped forward, coming closer to Raynard, before losing his courage a few feet away from him. An approving nod was all the encouragement he needed to close the last of the gap between them. Ori lowered himself to his knees and glanced up at Raynard through his lashes.

  “How may I serve you, sir?” The words were whispered very softly, full of submission and the simple hope that he’d be allowed to display how much he wanted to please his master. And in this version of the world, that is what Raynard would be, not his employer, but his master.

  Raynard gasped as he finally wrapped his hand properly around his cock, cocooning the sensitive skin within his palm and fingers. Still keeping his movements slow, he kept most of his attention devoted to the fantasy playing out in his mind.

  As Ori stared up at him, waiting patiently for his answer, Raynard watched an image of himself step forward and bury its hand in the fledgling’s hair, making the messy strands follow the route his grip created for them and wiping away any previous lover’s touch.

  A little gasp escaped from Ori as Raynard guided his lips to the tip of his cock, but there was no hint of reluctance. Ori nuzzled gently at his shaft, rubbing his face against his crotch before lapping enthusiastically at the head.

  Raynard’s free hand tugged at the bed sheet as the image in his mind tightened its grip on Ori’s hair, dragging him even closer.

  More of his shaft slipped into Ori’s mouth. A pleased little sound surrounded the tip with vibrations, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him as Ori lifted his hands to rest them on Raynard’s flanks.

  Raynard tightened his hand around his cock as he imagined Ori sucking greedily around him.

  The fantasy version of Ori kept its eyes closed, seeming to savour the taste on his tongue. Raynard stared down, watching his shaft disappear into the boy’s mouth, then reappear, slicked with saliva as Ori pulled back only to quickly dive down to suck him back past his lips again.

  Raynard’s hand guided the fledgling’s movements, but as Ori blinked his eyes open and looked up, there could be no doubt that he was exactly where he wanted to be. He whimpered his own pleasure as Raynard slid farther into his mouth and strengthened his grip on Raynard’s sides, as if he was fighting against the temptation to reach down and take himself in hand.

  Rocking his hips, Raynard pushed his cock against his palm as pre-cum leaked down his shaft, slicking his strokes. It wasn’t a hot willing mouth, but inside his head, he saw each perfect detail as Ori held his head still and let him thrust between the thin, pink line of his lips.

  Mentally lifting his gaze an inch or two, Raynard let his eyes meet Ori’s. He came, hard and fast, arching off the mattress as his cum spilled against his stomach. He worked his shaft more frantically than ever as white-hot pleasure raced through him, coaxing every ounce of bliss out of each available moment until he finally collapsed back against the bed.

  His hand was still wrapped around his cock, turning sticky as his semen dried, but Raynard kept his eyes closed as he watched the image of Ori pull away from him. A shy little smile touched Ori’s lips as he remained kneeling before his master, waiting to see if it would please Raynard to give him permission to come, too.

  No expectations, no demands, just a simple trust that his master would take care of him and see that the right decisions were made for both of them.

  Raynard blinked open his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He didn’t look at the empty bed beside him before he let his eyes fall closed again and allowed sleep to creep into the corners of his mind.

  * * * * *

  By the time Raynard stepped through the kitchen doorway the following morning, he’d put all fantasies firmly out of his mind. Ori was his servant; Raynard was his employer, nothing more.

  Raynard stopped short on the outskirts of the room and checked his wristwatch. It was indeed early in the morning—at least by his standards. Apparently, ducklings favoured a different brand of timekeeping. Ori had obviously been u
p and working for several hours.

  The scent of freshly brewed coffee floated across to Raynard, as if it had noticed him in the doorway and couldn’t wait to make very good friends with his taste buds. Ori was apparently far less aware of his presence.

  The boy had found a scrubbing brush somewhere, and was on his hands and knees making good use of it on the far side of the kitchen.

  “Good morning.”

  Ori spun around to face him as he scrambled to his feet. Heat rushed to his cheeks as if Raynard had walked in on him doing something secret and shameful.

  The sight of the boy blushing did nothing to help Raynard keep the thoughts that had remained with him through most of the night at bay. He really was a pretty little thing when his submission came to the fore.

  Turning his attention pointedly away from Ori, Raynard looked around the room. It was barely recognisable as the shadowy space they’d walked through the previous night.

  “What time did you get up?”

  Ori glanced at the wall above the countertop. The clock hanging there proclaimed it to be ten past two. No doubt it had been declaring the same time for weeks.

  “I’ll see if I can fix it, sir.”

  Raynard turned his attention back to Ori. “It probably only needs to be wound. There should be a key somewhere.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ori murmured.

  Raynard ran his eyes over Ori’s body again. The clothes he’d worn when he left the nest were already more than a little worse for wear. “You’ve been working hard.”

  Ori glanced up at him, his eyes full of confusion, almost as if he thought Raynard was joking.

  It wasn’t the boy’s fault he’d been thrown in the middle of such a mess. Raynard reached out to ruffle Ori’s unruly mop of hair in gentle praise as he made his way past him.

  Ori tensed, obviously expecting a blow. He blushed when he received the exact opposite. He soaked up Raynard’s approval the way only a true submissive could.

  As Raynard approached the coffeemaker, Ori took half a step forward, then hesitated.