Knight (An Impossible Novel) by Julia Sykes

ordered before disappearing into a room adjacent to the one where we had slept.  He reappeared quickly, holding a black t-shirt and a fresh pair of slacks.  I hated losing sight of him as he closed the door to the bathroom, but I stood patiently in the living room, not moving from the spot where he had ordered me to wait for him.
    He emerged only minutes later, dressed in his fresh clothes.  The t-shirt was tight, doing little to disguise his muscular chest and bulging arms.  My mouth practically watered at the sight.  I knew Master was strong enough to protect me, but his physical perfection had always been obscured by his professional suit.  There was no doubt in my mind that Master was more than capable of keeping me safe.
    He led me to the kitchen, where it quickly became apparent that he didn’t have much other than coffee in stock.  His fridge held little more than beer and an expired block of cheese, and his freezer was sparsely littered with a bottle of chilled vodka and a few frozen dinners.
    I was shocked to find that he appeared slightly chagrined when he fished out a Toaster Strudel for my breakfast.  “I’m afraid this is all I have to offer you,” he said with a self-deprecating smile.  “Unfortunately, I have fuck all in the way of culinary skills.”
    He gripped my waist so he could lift me up onto one of the barstools at his kitchen counter.  Pain flared where his fingers dug into my bruised flesh where that Bastard had kicked me.  The image of his twisted, cruel snarl flashed across my mind.
    “No amount of groveling will save you.  I’ll be back for you, slave.”
    My whimper was a result of residual fear as well as pain.
    Master released me instantly, concern etched in his handsome features.  He reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it up to examine my injury.  A dark, purplish splotch stood in stark contrast to my pale skin.  Master swore under his breath, his concern giving way to fury.
    A buzzing sound broke through the tension that was radiating off of him.  He blinked, his ire receding ever so slightly as he lowered my shirt to cover me once again.
    “That’ll be Clayton,” he explained.  “He’s going to ask you some questions about what happened last night.  I want you to answer him as thoroughly as possible.  If you get scared, I’ll be right here.”  He paused, studying me.  “Don’t call me ‘Master’ in front of him.  If you do, he might try to take you from me.”
    “I won’t, Master,” I promised quickly.  “I won’t,” I amended, omitting his appellation.  I liked Clayton, but I would claw his eyes out if he tried to take me away from Master.
    He nodded, satisfied, before leaving me briefly in order to let Clayton in.  As always, Master’s friend had a smile for me.
    “Hi, Jane,” Clayton beamed at me.  He always seemed to radiate positivity, his bearing implacably lighthearted.
    “Hi.”  My lips quirked up of their own accord in response to his levity.
    “Jane, this is Agent Reed Miller.  He works with Smith and me at the FBI,” Clayton introduced the man who followed him into Master’s apartment.
    Agent Reed Miller was about the same height as Master, but he wasn’t quite as broad.  He was younger.  His face didn’t bear the same care-worn creases that crinkled at the corners of Master’s eyes, and his skin was tanned and smooth.  He was also tidier than Master, his carefully-styled black hair and clean-shaven jaw likening him more to Clayton, who ever looked the professional in his sharp suits.
    “You can call me Reed,” he told me.
    He extended a hand towards me.  Reflexively, I shrank back.  I hadn’t met any men other than Clayton and Master since Master had claimed me.
    The boyish smile was instantly wiped from his face, his dark brown eyes suddenly uncertain as he pulled his hand back slowly.
    “Shit.  Sorry.”  He cut his eyes to Master when he apologized.
    Master was instantly at my side, his warm hand