Page 102 of Caging Darling

“Then I’m sure he’s already given you his little speech about how life as one of his muses is better than anything you could have asked for.”

“Yes, I seem to remember him saying pets had better lives than wives in most scenarios.”

Phoenix ticks her heavily lined brow. “Wives?” She lets out a measured breath, puts her hands on her hips, then turns her face away. In the dim faerie dust lamplight, it highlights her rich brown skin, the smooth lines of her jaw, her angular cheekbones. Just slightly, her cheek bulges, like she’s biting on the inside of it.

“Did I say something wrong?”

She offers me a pitying look. “It’s just that most of the girls here were never going to be anyone’s wife. Most of us were working the streets from the time we reached maturity. And for those that weren’t, their mothers were. So, for most, not all, Vulcan has been an improvement. If you?—”

“I grew up in the aristocracy, but my family was killed and I was…taken a few years ago. I don’t claim to have gone through what you and the other muses have, but…”

Phoenix almost appears relieved. “So I don’t need to give you a talk to explain how this works?”

I shake my head, though I don’t tell her I’d known my fair share far before I ever left the corners of my parents’ manor.

“Well, I hate to say that’s good, but we try to find the bright side where we can around here,” she says, beckoning me to follow her down the hallway. We wind through curving hallways and a set of spiraling stairs before we reach what Phoenix calls the muses’ suite.

It’s an enormous room in the shape of an oval. Beds line the walls, each draped in lightly dyed sheer curtains, each a distinct hue from the rest. Pale yellows and baby blues and blush pinks circle the room. There’s something eerily soft about the coloring. Eerily innocent.

“Is Pheonix your real name?” I ask.

She offers me a pitying smile. “Do you know your new name yet?”

“Nova,” I say, because that’s what he called me the night he bought me from the traffickers.

“I know,” she says, leading me across the push rug in the center of the room and pointing to the name plaque on the foot of the bed.

Nova.

Not for the first time tonight, the hairs on my arms stand on end.

“Was there another girl named Nova?” I ask.

Phoenix shakes her head. “No. He had that one marked for you after you were taken from him.”

I must blanch, because Phoenix puts her hand on my shoulder. “You’re new, so he’ll be more, well, obsessed with you, but don’t let that worry you. The novelty will wear off. Vulcan has a child’s attention span. He’ll start to lose interest in about a month, two if you’re particularly unlucky. Once his attentions are set elsewhere, you’ll know you’ve made it through the worst of it. And he doesn’t offer us to any of his guests, even the overnight ones. He pays an escort service whenever he has traveling guests in town, so you won’t have to worry about keeping the beds of strangers. They leer at the parties, but they know better than to touch you. And if they do, Vulcan will take your word over theirs, and they won’t live to see another party.”

“You’d think that would encourage guests to keep their hands to themselves,” I say.

“You’d think. And it does for most. But there’s no accounting for the occasional pea-brained imbecile.

“I’ve got to get back to the party,” she says. “I’m Vulcan’s favorite this week, so he won’t like it if I’m gone for too long.” The resignation in her voice is evident. There’s a weariness in her expression. Just a wrinkle of her brow, the slightest slump of her shoulders.

“Wait,” I say, grabbing her instinctively by the shoulder as she turns to leave.

She turns a raised brow at me.

“I…” I struggle for something to say that won’t sound suspicious. “You’re sure his fixation with me won’t last long?”

Her face softens. “I’m sure. Venus was the last one, and he got tired of her after three weeks.”

“Does he bring new muses in often?”

“As often as he finds one that meets his standards of beauty, exoticism, and price.”

“Are all the muses human?”

She almost turns her nose up at me. “Why do you ask?”

---