Seduced By The Alphas Ch 17

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Bonded by the Goddess.

I still did not know if I really loved him, my feelings were very mixed. Yet respect him I did, sincerely. Understand him I did not. Do women ever truly understand men? I do not believe so, a cruel jest of nature borne by every species. All we can do is our best to bridge the gap.

I came to him after dinner, before his bath, and after the news. He was most receptive at this time and tonight I felt exceedingly brave. I knelt before him as he reclined on the lounge, he did not call me to his lap as he often did, I waited his pleasure patiently, head bowed hair tracing the carpet.

"What do you want little Lidia?"

Finally he had asked me to approach. He was so very formal and did adhere to protocol heavily, it had taken much getting used to.

"I have a question Master?"

He looked at me then, intently. "A question, that is very unlike you Lidia." He smiled. "I was beginning to get lonely, it is nice to see my slave girl has a tongue." He beckoned me into his lap, I went willingly. My lips kissed his in worship.

My bravery was receding swiftly, I needed to begin before the courage was lost. "I...I want to know why on that first night I met you, you..."

He put his fingers to my lips quieting my stumbling words that would not all arrive. "Shush."

Silence, I looked to him my eyes framing the rest of my unfinished question. He appeared awkward, and for long moment he just sat with seemingly nothing to say. Like a man at an inquisition, deciding if he should indeed freely admit his guilt. Bypass the unpleasantness of torture, and go straight to the fire. It was to me most important for me I know what his motives had been that first time we had met. I had dwelt on them often, and tonight I felt I had reached the place where I had to know.

He sighed and shifted on the lounge, he looked cornered and troubled. His golden brows knotted in consternation.

"Yes, Lidia I can see why you would wonder and why you need to know. Let me see if I can explain. I cannot make it right. I know what I did that evening was expressly wrong, I even suspected it was then, and yet I let myself continue."

He looked at me guiltily clearly ill at ease with himself. Something I rarely saw.

"You see as I already told you between Frej and I it was common to share. I had shared Ona with him many times, and that night when I came to see him I was also somewhat drunk. It blinded me Lidia, not that it was an excuse, for I can find none, and at the time when you were serving us I could see you were shy and embarrassed, but I thought you understood your part as his slave and you were happily prepared to serve both of us. You never complained and you never told me no, I know you cried. Inside I cried also. I still remember that evening. I go back to it often, for the first time in my life I felt jealous beyond reason. I wanted you then Lidia, even if you didn't want me."

His voice was heady and emotional, his eyes were seeking, earnest.

"I could not get you out of my mind. You are the only woman I have had since Ona died. To begin with I tried to distance myself, you were my Brother's after all, not mine. I thought yes I can share and just be grateful to be near you, but it was not enough. You woke things in me I thought were long dead, buried with her."

He looked across to her photograph as though drawing courage from her smiling image. Then just as swiftly he hung his leonine head.

He chuckled, sardonically. "You are twenty years younger then I, a vulnerable little girl. Every man's dream, your beauty is your curse Lidia. I wanted you with every ounce of my burning ambition. That is why I could not stop, that and the drink made me brave, dampened my feelings. I knew it was wrong, I knew in the back of my mind and deep in my heart I had done you an injustice. Instead of admitting this I became hard, I tried not to see. I closed my eyes to your misery and just used you taking what I could. Telling myself you were Frej's and he was looking after you. I said this often enough I believed in my own lies. Then one night as I lay here alone I thought, I'm scared of scaring you, but I must act because I'm more afraid of not helping you."

He had been thinking this of me the entire time? I wished I could have found the courage far earlier to run to him now I knew better his mind.

"Lidia, I think I know you, as a woman, and as a slave. You are an amazing young woman with a strong soul, a natural slave who wants to obey. You would do anything forced of you, the trauma you've been through has made you this way. However what I want you to do is anything you're asked, not because you're afraid of a beating, but because you want to. I want to be able to tie you to a chair, or a bed and you to be able to tell yourself. I can do this, because I trust Master to take care of his property. I want you to be able to clean the kitchen, or cook me dinner, or pleasure me as I ask. Not because you fear a beating, but because you know I'll be happy and proud of you. I want you to be comfortable being naked, not because slaves should be naked, but because you know it pleases me and you're comfortable with that. It's all I ever wanted for you Lidia."

He held me, I felt fragile, beautiful, his. His penitent words were the most incredible thing. He had loved me, he had wanted me, he had acted on impulse. I bore him no malice, we all made many mistakes. I breathed him in his masculine scent comforting to me, instinctively burrowing closer, curling like a small child in his lap. He had given me the validation I had needed to press forward. I smiled, he had given me so many wonderful things, wrenched me from a world of hate and fear. He was just one man and yet had made many wrongs right.

He looked again at her photograph. "I live too much in the past Lidia, it has to cease. You have shown me it robs me of my life. I will always love her, she will never be you, and you my beautiful, precious girl will never be her."

He smiled broadly, I felt confused at his statement.

Was he saying I was pale beside her, that I could not compete? Oh how hard I had tried. Had I not attempted to embrace all he had shown, his protocols, his preferences? I had even shown my acceptance of his Goddess, something Ona never had?

Salt tears spilling from the corners of my eyes, he was wiping them away with his thumb.

"You misunderstand little Lidia."

A deep kiss languishing long on my lips, his tongue invasive in my mouth. Passion rising in swift crescendo, his body illustrating in a way his clumsy words could not what I truly represented to him.

"I love you my slave, you have pulled me from the shadow. You have helped a dead man live." He loved me then, and I realized he no longer saw her, he was seeing me. Chagrined as I concluded it was only I who now held back the reins of love.

"Tomorrow Lidia it is you and I there is no more a menage a trois." He looked at her photo one more time, as if saying goodbye. Another gentle kiss planted on my forehead and slowly and deliberately he slid off his wedding band. He had buried his demons, now I had to attempt to bury mine.

*****

He can still be hard like his younger brother, unemotional, maybe it is because he is Nordic and defined by his culture, or was it merely a demand of his upbringing and expectations. He is a Master in every sense of the word. Calmer than his younger brother, a deep stoic man, a tranquil pool of male composure. Comforting to me.

I find I draw on this heavily in my many moments of uncertainty by his side. I know great things were expected of him by his family, he had been groomed from childhood to assume the mantle of the family company. He had a rich childhood but beneath those responsibilities reigned and overrode all. I always wondered did he ever just wish to do something else, yet as royalty did not, did he truly have a choice in his own future? In some ways I could see he ran a parallel in my own much simpler existence. He himself a slave to his loved ones expectations, even now.

He had taken me on small intimate outings, he had done his best to ensure I had not felt intimidated. He had sat patiently through my panic attacks and nervous public embarrassment. Tonight was no exception, his favorite place to dine Prins Ferdinand, an exclusive establishment where he and I would often dine in fine style.

To begin with I had great difficulty on these outings, I was sure all eyes were on me. Was I holding my fork correctly, were my elbows off the table, whatever you do, do not chew with your mouth open? I found myself furtively looking about at the other diners, all well dressed trying to take hints from their actions.

Learn fast Lidia don't make a fool of him.

He would just smile at me from across the table, and coolly order. I on the other hand could barely find the voice or a steady word to utter my dinner requests. He seemed to find all this amusing in his own quiet way, and slowly I got used to his custom of Saturday, dressing well and eating even better.

It was something special he and I did, and I knew in a few weeks this alone indulgent time would not be so easily achieved. We would be parents then and we would have a child to draw on our time.

However tonight that was all far away. I looked across the candlelit table at him handsome in his well fitting suit and tie, his long hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. He put his hands across the table and held mine. They felt lost and small engulfed in his, he was power personified and I was humbled by his public display of love.

"I love you," he said softly. His gray eyes sparkled in the diffuse light.

I thought to myself

whatever happens in the path of our lives, I will remember this night always and the way you look at me now.

I did not reply. I had never returned those words, I was not sure I could with absolute sincerity. I hoped he did not wait for them. I had to search inside, and I was not comforted by what I discovered there. He had opened his heart to me in putting her aside, yet I could not completely reciprocate. Instead I merely had followed his lead and let him love me as he chose.

The clink of wine glasses, the waiter was pouring his wine as we waited for dessert. The tablecloth ruby red, the glow of the candles warm and rich. The waiter did not look at us engaged in such a display of lovers affection. He simply served us and was gone, unobtrusive and non judgmental.

"It is time Lidia I made my intentions plain. You may be my kajira, my slave, but I want you to be more, much more." Pressure on my hands, he squeezed them meaningfully then he let go and delved into his suit coat pocket.

My life seemed to be full of presentations such as this, another spectacular ring. I had progressed far from the simple silver and enameled bluebird of my nineteenth year. A large glittering cluster of diamonds set in yellow gold, they brilliantly reflected every earthly color in the flickering candle light.

I thought about this moment, one of the rare chances a woman gets to truly lay a man low no matter how powerful he is. To spurn his proposal as Birgitte did Frej's. I looked him in the eye, expressive and cool. A deep vast sky of trust, he had opened himself to me. It was his chance to be afraid, and I indeed wondered if he was? What if I said no? There were no more impediments to our love, only the ones I housed in my heart.

Words would only cheapen the moment, I loved him enough to marry him that I could not deny. He had been very good to me, and a wonderful father to my child he would make.

Though love was lacking on my side, yes the crime was all mine. Did he sense it I was never sure, or did he mistake my lack of openness for my meekness?

He took my hand again in his, my eyes followed his hands as he slipped the opal ring from my finger and replaced it with the diamond one. He kissed me reverently then as a knight would declare fealty to his sovereign, his eyes were closed.

"Be my wife Lidia."

I bowed my head in acquiescence. I had accepted his advance with not a word, and he in his confidence thankfully had needed none.

After that memorable dinner we walked hand in hand in the city streets, the shops closed, the streetlights bathing the world in artificial color. He smiled down at me roguishly handsome, I squeezed his hand in reply.

"You make me a happy man Lidia," he said, sincere satisfaction in his voice. We turned the corner and I looked across at the botanical gardens deep and dark, he gazed at me wickedly. I could see he was having similar lascivious thoughts.

*****

A succession of dinners, fine ones, in the secluded courtyard of his garden laden with the scent of honey and garnished with our love. Formal ones in fine restaurants, or picnics held on the grass in the forest full of laughter, but none like this one. He had called his parents and told them of his intent to remarry. I sensed his difficulty then, tendrils of fear taking hold as I beheld his hesitant words to his father over the phone.

I wanted to make this evening very special, I knew it was important to him I did. I labored long over dinner preparations. I consulted every cook book I could find, deliberating long over what would be served. I think I was as nervous as he was. He did not need to tell me that much hung on the outcome of this evening. He had taken me aside and assured me no matter what we would be married and I was not to fret. They were his parents and he would have to deal with their reaction be it good or bad.

I had made an elaborate dinner, four courses, accompanied by the best wine and fresh baked bread. The table was set, the lights dimmed, the candles waiting to be lit, the vases of roses scenting the dining room in a pleasurable perfume. I kept looking the clock and I noticed so did he.

He had handpicked what I should wear, he was very particular about it. He made me put my hair up, he said it made me look older. It seemed one of his biggest concerns was his father's issue with the age gap between us. I had begun to learn myself that age was just a number. I had seen many men who at twenty five could not hold a candle to Master Svend's physical prowess.

He had removed my collar and replaced it with an elegant neck hugging string of pearls and matching drop earrings, my dress plain black, classic simple lines. It was long, the hem an inch from the floor in heels, halter necked and backless. I wished I had sleeves, I was now very self conscious of the scars on my arms I sought to cover them when I could even though they had faded considerably.

I made to tell him this, one look from him and the words of resistance died in my throat. He could still in a moment make me feel his slave.

I waited my hands clasped together, gazing at the engagement ring on my finger, fidgeting, marking time. He was pacing the floor, this was going to be somewhat difficult for him.

The doorbell, they were here. I lit the candles and took one more peek at dinner. He was greeting his parents in the entrance way, he was holding his mother. I stood quietly behind him, waiting to be formally introduced.

Long had I dreamed of this moment, of meeting her. So many times I had stood by unnoticed, part of the furniture, playing my part as a nurse or a maid. Today she would finally see me.

"This is Lidia." His hand on me urging me forward in presentation. A nervous smile on my lips, and shy hello.

She came forward. "Lovely to meet you Lidia, my son has told me much of you," she said in a genuine voice infused with kindness. "I do hope you are enjoying it here and my son is caring for you well?"

"Yes, Madame, I am, and he has been most kind."

It was hard to look directly at her, her eyes were the eyes of Frej. Mr Eriksen stood behind her he was examining me too, he was not looking at my face though but rather my very swollen midsection.

"Call me Agnes, Daughter." She patted me reassuringly on the arm.

I stumbled, lost for words. Master Svend sensed my difficulty and rescued me, taking his mother's coat and bag, thereby breaking the tension.

Did this mean she had accepted me already?

My head was swimming, all my life I had longed for acceptance, craved to be cherished and loved. Her few words had so easily brought me undone, I felt faint with the shock.

His arm taking mine, supporting me. He seemed to know just when to intervene.

"She has not been well," he said. "Nothing serious, but you know how it is, hard work toward the end." With that he waved his parents before him into the dining room and seated them and myself at the table. "Sit, he whispered. "Let me take care of this."

It felt wrong to let him serve, though I was grateful he did. Any grace I had, had completely melted away. I sat in my chair conscious of hiding the scars on my arms, and Mr Eriksen's continuing observance of me. We sat opposite his parents, I was mesmerized by Agnes' eyes, vibrant and kind but his nonetheless. She smiled at me, she was as warm as her husband was cold.

"My son tells me you have everything ready in the nursery and you are looking forward to October, later you must show me."

"Yes," I answered too afraid to reach for my glass of water though I wanted it to help me speak.

Master Svend placed dinner before us, beef soup the first course and fresh homemade crusty bread. It had become hard for me to eat in any quantity in recent weeks, I found though I was often hungry but I had little room for my appetite. Meals for me were now frequent, and small, and leaving food on my plate no matter how good it tasted a common occurrence. I would have to pace myself.

He poured wine in all the glasses but mine, then sat and talked as he ate. He seemed easy enough in their presence though I detected he was treading very carefully with his father. They spoke of work and projects over the first course.

Mrs Eriksen was silent, though she often smiled warmly at me across the table. I got the sense she was for the most part quite removed from the business side of the Eriksen empire.

Dinner progressed without incident to the main course. I was already full, I pushed most of my plate aside barely eaten.

He had noticed. "Are you all right?" He said most attentive. All eyes on me as I answered to reassure him I was.

So far so good, dessert, rich chocolate cake topped with walnuts served with coffee both of which I declined.

Maybe later I would have the stomach for a small slice.

The course was sweet but the conversation had turned far from it.

"Left it a little late for the wedding haven't we?" Mr Eriksen said somewhat sarcastically, his gaze not on me but locked on his eldest son. Mrs Eriksen looked awkward, her gaze apologetic for her husband's controversial outburst, eyes seeking mine. I sat frozen looking at no one, just engaged on the contents of my glass. I had assumed wrongly all of this families discussions would be expressed with civility.

"You take your Brother's cast off, what's wrong with you boy! Why not some society girl, God forbid!"

Mrs Eriksen's jeweled hand went to her husband's arm, attempting to caution him against further outburst. It was not heeded.

"Lidia is the one I have chosen Father." Master Svend reiterated calmly. He looked his father steadily in the eye.

"Yes, I see that just like the last time." Thinly veiled disappointment held there in the reply. "You boys both confound me, you have the chance at the best yet you choose her," he looked at me then scathing was his assessment. I had no pedigree and he was letting me know it. I had no idea he could or would be this forthright in his opinions. Maybe this is why my father had befriended him, possibly at least in a social sense they were two of a kind.