Duck! (Avian Shifters Book 1) (16 page)

As he closed his eyes, the same words that had gradually been seeping into his mind every time he wrote them down, replayed themselves once more inside his head.

The most valuable possession my master owns is his submissive. I will take great care that no harm comes to my master’s submissive whenever he is not there to watch over me himself.

Chapter Eight

Raynard ran a critical eye over the dining table. It was set to perfection. If Ori hadn’t actually pulled out a ruler and measured the gaps between each item, no one would have ever guessed it. Every piece of silverware shone, every glass sparkled.

If his first forays into it were anything to go by, the more formal rituals of high service were going to suit Ori very well. More than a few times over the last few days, Raynard had caught sight of a quietly satisfied smile on the duckling’s face. After all the grunt work he’d put in while making the house fit for habitation, getting to play with a bit of sparkle was obviously doing him a world of good.

A smile crept to Raynard’s lips too. The simple fact that Ori had managed to do it all without adding to the list of things he’d broken, seemed to have done wonders for his confidence as well.

Raynard looked over his shoulder. Ori stood by the dining room door, his hands folded neatly behind his back and his chin up—his stance as perfect as everything else he’d laid out for his master’s inspection.

The table was set for two, just as Raynard had ordered.

Raynard nodded to Ori, signalling that he was ready for the food to be served.

Ori reappeared three minutes later, ornate silver tray in hand. He’d followed Raynard’s orders when he’d prepared the food and hadn’t panicked about producing something that fitted the elaborate trimmings that graced the table.

The scent of the meal called to Raynard. Not as much as the sight of the naked man carrying it, but still, it promised him a plate piled high with the kind of simple food Ori had quite a knack for.

Raynard took his seat. Ori served the meal, just as he’d been taught to over the previous few weeks, as the kitchen table had found itself set a little more elaborately every day.

He served the empty chair next to Raynard in much the same way before stepping back to receive his master’s criticisms.

Raynard didn’t have any to give.

“Leave the tray by the door, and take your seat,” Raynard ordered, as they reached the end of those sections of a dinner party’s proceedings in which he’d instructed Ori so far.

“Sir?”

Raynard raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you think I’d be eating alone?”

Ori hesitated for another second before slipping into the seat to Raynard’s right. Just because Raynard had been content to eat with him in the kitchen until that evening, it obviously hadn’t occurred to the fledgling that they would
both
migrate to the formal dining room now it was fit for purpose.

“There will be times when the table will be full of guests,” Raynard told him. “The Raynards have been a leading family in the area for generations. I’ll be expected to entertain.”

“Yes, sir.”

“In which case, you’ll be required to dress for dinner,” Raynard added, a little rush of jealousy coursing through him at the very idea of anyone else seeing Ori wearing nothing but his collar.

Ori glanced up at him. He smiled hesitantly, as if not sure his master really meant he’d be allowed to take a seat at the table when there were others there.

“Different occasions require different forms and protocol,” Raynard expanded, as the dinner progressed. “If the gathering is specifically for hawks, only hawks will attend.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But there will be other times when a greater variety of avian species are present. Then you’ll be expected to take your place at my side and eat the same meal you serve to our guests.”

“Yes, sir.”

Raynard studied him out of the corner of his eye, wondering just how much complex thought went on in Ori’s head while such simple answers left his mouth. The more time Raynard spent with him, the more determined he was to find out.

Happily, Raynard was confident that he’d have time to learn everything there was to know about the boy, principally, because he had no intention of allowing Ori to wander away from his protection at any point in the future.

Raynard might have been aware that he needed to wait until Ori was a fully-fledged shifter before he could make his intentions toward him a matter of record, but he saw no reason why that should dictate when he actually made his decisions.

He glanced across at Ori again. For once, he didn’t find Ori sneaking a return peek at him.

Ori’s attention was all on the cabinet at the other end of the table. The glass had been replaced just the previous day. The rest of the monstrous piece of furniture had been cleaned via a sturdy stepladder while Raynard was present to supervise. Earlier that day, Ori had carefully refilled it with all the delicate antique porcelain that had, luckily enough, been removed before his tumble.

The cabinet looked as good as it ever had. But there was still a frown on Ori’s forehead when he glared at it.

Raynard reached out and picked up his wine glass. It was filled with water that evening. When he placed it back on the table, Ori glanced at it. Picking up the water jug, he refilled Raynard’s glass.

“Thank you.”

Ori smiled at him, almost absentmindedly, before turning his gaze back to the cabinet.

Raynard felt his hackles rise. “Ori?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Who do you believe is the master in this relationship?”

Suddenly, Raynard knew he had his fledgling’s full attention.

“You, sir,” Ori said, very seriously.

“And, that being the case, who do you believe should be the judge when deciding the standard of behaviour you’re expected to attain?”

“You, sir,” Ori repeated.

Raynard could practically sense Ori’s pulse race faster and faster as he tried to work out where the conversation was heading and what the hell he’d done wrong.

“When I punish you for a failure, that’s the end of the matter. Acting as if you believe otherwise could easily be interpreted as an insult.”

Ori held his gaze, apparently still none the wiser.

“You took your punishment,” Raynard told him. “You were forgiven. Unless you have some reason to believe the cabinet is about to launch itself across the room at us, stop staring at it.”

Ori looked down for a second, then back up, careful not to even glance toward the cabinet in the process.

Raynard tucked a knuckle under Ori’s chin, encouraging him to lift it up a little and not look quite so heartbroken over the rather gentle criticism.

“Do you have any reason to cling to your guilt?” he asked.

“No, sir.”

Raynard smiled his approval. As the meal progressed, for the first time since that disastrous day some six weeks earlier, he felt Ori start to relax while in the dining room. By the end of the meal, Ori almost seemed to have reached a point where the cabinet was just another piece of furniture. Almost.

Finally, the companionable dinner had to come to an end. Ori had just brought the tray across to clear the table, when he hesitated. “Shall I light the fire in the library first, sir?”

Raynard shook his head. “Not tonight.”

Ori didn’t question his decision. He simply went back to clearing the table.

Raynard stood up. “When you’ve finished here, come up to the bedroom.”

“Yes, sir!”

Ori’s enthusiasm at the possibility they’d go to bed early had Raynard smiling to himself as he left the room. The marks he’d left on Ori’s skin might have faded, but the impression he’d left on Ori’s mind when he brought out the cuffs obviously hadn’t dimmed in the least. If he was unable to face the china cabinet without feeling guilty, he was equally incapable of walking past the toy chest without blushing.

Raynard made his way up the stairs and into their bedroom. As he automatically set about his self-assigned tasks, he turned that thought over inside his head.
Their
bedroom.

He supposed it was, in a way. Technically, Ori might still have his own room in the servants’ quarters, but it had been weeks since Raynard wanted him to sleep anywhere but at his side. It was hard to believe that would change as more time passed. Raynard shook his head at himself, wondering how the hell a supposedly ugly little ducking had managed to burrow his way so deeply into his affections in such a short space of time.

A click from the door caught Raynard’s attention. He turned just in time to see Ori’s expression drop when he realised that Raynard was getting dressed to go out.

The protocols Raynard had taught Ori came to his rescue. He settled into his at rest position, hands folded behind his back.

“Come here.”

He stepped forward. Raynard nudged him in the direction of the shower with a tap on the backside.

“Get dressed when you’re done,” he ordered.

When Ori came back into the bedroom a few minutes later, he’d already dried himself. His hair stuck up at all different angles after being towelled off.

Raynard ruffled Ori’s hair even further as Ori walked past him, making him smile. There was no longer any hint of the flinch Raynard had noticed the first few times he’d raised his hand to offer that kind of affection.

There weren’t many choices for Ori to make as he stood in front of the wardrobe Raynard had set aside for his use. All the clothing Raynard had bought for him was very simple. Black trousers. White shirts. Black boots and belts. Ori was ready in minutes.

Raynard watched as Ori turned to the mirror over the chest of drawers. He combed his fingers through his hair a few times, but it made very little difference. He caught Raynard’s eyes in the glass and looked quickly down, a slight blush rising to his cheeks at being caught trying to style himself up.

Stepping up behind him, Raynard stared over Ori’s shoulder and met his eyes in the reflection. He slipped his fingers into Ori’s hair, tugging his head back to rest against his shoulder for a few moments.

“It’s always kind of done whatever it wants, sir,” Ori admitted.

“That will probably change after you’ve completed your first full shift.”

Confusion flickered through Ori’s expression as Raynard ran his fingers through the unruly strands of hair again. The position probably wasn’t entirely comfortable, but Ori made no attempt to lift his head from his master’s shoulder.

“Your adult plumage should be easier to manage, a little less like a fluffy little duckling’s. The colour can change like that too.” Raynard snapped his fingers with the word “that”, keeping his tone light, but he couldn’t avoid wishing his fledgling would remain exactly as he was, forever.

“It won’t turn green, will it, sir?” Ori’s eyes opened wide in horror, but it didn’t seem to be about vanity, just a disinclination to draw attention to himself in that manner.

Raynard managed to keep a straight face as he pretended to consider the matter very carefully. He gave in then and chuckled. “Unlikely. I’ve yet to see a mallard’s colouring have that effect. Most ducks keep a brown plumage in their human form.”

Ori laughed at Raynard’s teasing and shook his head at his own gullibility. As they moved away from the mirror, Raynard adjusted Ori’s shirt neck, to make sure his leather collar was clearly visible in a way he’d rarely encouraged Ori to display it when going out into the wider world.

Stepping away for a moment, Raynard picked up the leather jacket he’d laid out on the bed and held it up behind Ori. Ori’s coordination deserted him. It took him a few attempts to work out how to get his arms into the sleeves so Raynard could settle the jacket neatly around his shoulders.

It was a perfect finish to the outfit.

“But you’ve already bought me…”
A coat.
Raynard put his finger over Ori’s lips before he could finish the sentence.

He did have a very nice coat, a winter one.

“Spring’s on its way,” Raynard said. And promptly labelled himself a fool for feeling as if he had to make excuses for the purchase. Ori was his submissive, Raynard was free to dress him any way he chose, and he was perfectly free to fuss over him a little if he wanted to.

“Thank you, sir.”

Raynard turned away and picked up his own jacket, not sure he wanted to meet Ori’s eyes right then. Quickly leading the way down the stairs, he soon had them both in his car, retracing the route they’d taken when Raynard first drove Ori away from the nest.

The atmosphere in the car slowly changed. Ori grew more and more tense as he realised where they were going. The easiness that existed between them in their bedroom was a distant memory by the time they pulled up outside the nest.

Ori quickly exited the car. Raynard glared after him until he realised that Ori wasn’t rushing away, just hurrying around the car to open his door for him. Ori opened the main door into the nest for him too.

Raynard stepped inside, his eyes scanning the men in the large entry hall. On the far side of the room, he spotted another collared submissive opening a door for his master. Raynard relaxed as he realised where Ori had acquired the idea, and that it wasn’t directly from another dominant.

Ori looked up as Raynard stepped through one of the doors held open for him, obviously hopeful that his service pleased his master in some way. Clearly, there was no other man, dominant or otherwise, infringing on his thoughts.