Devil's Slave by Lola Hale

Author:Lola Hale [Hale, Lola]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Carina Press
Published: 2016-11-30T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

“What is this?” Hugh looked over the various boxes and bags with skepticism, arms crossed. “These are for me?”

“They’re all for you, Hugh. For behaving yourself yesterday.”

“Of course.”

Morning crept through the blinds. Domingo had been gone since around seven or eight—Hugh knew this because he had dipped low and kissed his temple before leaving, and the clock had read seven forty-five—and here they were at ten thirty, standing in the living room with a table absolutely full of packages. Hugh wore one of Domingo’s robes, black with cerulean trim.

“At the risk of ruining the surprise, what are they?”

Domingo shrugged. “Mostly clothes. Jewelry. A few electronics. After you cooperated so well last night, I thought it might be time to give you a little freedom.”

Freedom. Hugh’s mouth twisted. “How so?”

Domingo gestured for Hugh to follow him, already turning to stroll down the bedroom hall. Half of those doors Hugh had never even seen open—not the one beside Domingo’s, where they stopped. He urged Hugh toward the door.

“Do I really want to open this door, Domingo?”

“You know you will. Either way, it’s coming open.” He tipped his head, smiling that awful self-assured smile of his. “You’re too curious not to look.”

“Point taken,” Hugh said, and opened the door.

After seeing the room, he only had one thing to say to Domingo, looking over blankly. “How did you know my favorite color was burgundy?”

The room was awash with it, albeit tastefully—the carpets were red and the walls were eggshell, but burgundy covered everything from lampshades to drapes to sheets to...well, as much as one could get away with. He had a sprawling four-poster bed, thin wispy cloth draping around it. He had a television. A bathroom of his own.

A rattling, meowing box was on the bed. Domingo had even had it tied with a silver ribbon.

“This is your room,” Domingo told him, speaking over his shoulder. “You’ve earned your own space, I think. A place where you can be yourself for a little while instead of keeping up appearances for me. Now go open the box before it pisses everywhere.”

Numbly, he did so. Hugh sat on the bed and pulled the box in his lap, overly aware of Domingo’s gaze on him as he pulled the top off. Something small and clawed snagged the ribbon even as Hugh went to set the top aside, making him jump. The kitten was black-faced and fussy, immediately digging its little claws into his shirt to scale his chest.

“A cat?” Hugh handled the little thing gently, as if it might break. “A Siamese.”

“A very special Siamese.”

He saw why as soon as the cat looked up at him, mismatched eyes bright—one brown, one blue. He could only let out a bewildered little laugh, letting the squirming kitten down to explore the bedspread. He belatedly noticed that it was wearing a collar with a tag, and now Hugh turned it over, reading the name.

“Moon.” A beat. A laugh, some quiet, sad thing. “Jesus Christ, Domingo.”

“It took some digging, but I found old veterinary records.

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