Caleb was not new to pain, he could easily take a harsh slap to his face, but he was stunned nonetheless. He tried to stagger away from Rafiq, but he was held firmly in the older man’s grip.
“Bathe!” Rafiq growled with enough force to vibrate Caleb’s head.
“No!” Caleb cried, tears falling down his face.
Rafiq bent his body and threw his shoulder into Caleb’s stomach and hoisted him over his shoulder. Ignoring the pounding fists on his back, he strode purposefully into the bathroom and all but tossed the boy inside. He ignored the angry screaming and invective curses coming from Caleb’s twisted mouth and turned the knob to release cold water into the tub.
Caleb’s body jolted at the feeling of cold water soaking his clothes and touching his skin. Unable to resist and full of anger, he managed to punch Rafiq in the face and scramble halfway out of the tub. He had only ignited more of Rafiq’s rage. He felt Rafiq’s hand fisting in his hair, then the pain on his scalp and in his neck as he was wrenched backward. The bathtub filled around him as Rafiq pressed him to the bottom of the tub.
Fear and dread gripped him.
“You will obey me, boy! You will! Or I will drown you, here and now. You belong to me. Understand?”
Caleb’s mouth and nose filled with water. He could not make out words clearly and he heard only the angry shouting of the man holding him prisoner in the water. The feeling of impending death held him paralyzed with fear. Anything. He would give anything to never feel this brand of fear again.
Air!
Caleb gasped and heaved as he was pulled up, his arms scrambling for purchase and finding Rafiq’s shoulders. He pulled himself toward the warmth and safety of Rafiq’s body. He fought the arms trying to shrug him off. Caleb thought nothing of his panicked cries, he only wanted out of the tub. He wanted only to breathe and to be warm.
Strong arms gripped his shoulders and shook.
“Calm, Caleb. Calm. Breathe,” Rafiq said. His tone was soothing despite its intensity. “Be calm, Caleb. I will not put you in the water again if you’re prepared to listen. Still!”
Caleb worked hard to do as Rafiq asked. He held firm to Rafiq’s shoulders, telling himself over and again he could not be thrown into the water so long as he held on. Caleb stilled and shuddered, taking his first calm breath. He took another and another, until at last, only his anger remained. Slowly, he released Rafiq’s shoulders and slumped into the tub. He shivered at the cold, his lip trembling, but he wouldn’t ask Rafiq for hot water.
“I hate you,” Caleb spat, teeth chattering.
Rafiq’s eyes were calm and collected. With a smirk, he stood and left the room.
Caleb’s eyes stung with angry tears and because he was alone, he let them fall. Sure Rafiq would not return, he turned the tap for the hot water and huddled close to it, hoping it would warm him all the faster. He dragged his sopping wet clothes over his head and threw them in a heap on the bathroom floor with a sense of satisfaction over the mess he was making.
Pure, unfettered, anger rolled through his body like a physical thing. Pulling his knees to his chin he bit into the flesh of his knees, scraping them with his teeth. The tears would not abate! They continued to leak from his eyes. He felt weak and pitiful. He could not stop Rafiq from doing this to him. He bit harder, longing for the physical pain to release him from his suffering.
He wanted to scream.
He wanted to hit things.
He wanted to kill again.
He scraped his fingernails along the flesh of his arms, simultaneously feeling pain and relief as his skin broke and small drops of blood appeared on his flesh. He repeated the process – more pain – more release. In the water, Narweh’s blood swirled with his. He didn’t know what to feel at the sight of it. Numbness assailed him. He stared, transfixed as the blood of the man who tortured him for so long, dissipated into the water surrounding him.
Who was he now?
He was no longer Kéleb, no longer Narweh’s Dog. It was the only name he had ever known, the only thing he had ever been.
He’s dead. He’s truly dead.
His thoughts returned to Tehran, returned to the night he murdered his owner, his tormentor, and his caretaker. Kéleb had lifted the gun and Narweh’s face had registered shock, then fear, only for a moment. Then, he had given, Kéleb, the look – the one to remind him he was less than human in Narweh’s eyes – and then Kéleb squeezed the trigger. He was thrown by the force of the powerful weapon.
He missed it.
He missed the moment of Narweh’s death.
Bits of gore sprayed his hair, face and chest, but he did not register them. He scrambled toward the body. No gurgling, no gasping…only a corpse. And he felt…sorrow. Narweh had never begged. He had never knelt at Kéleb’s feet and begged his mercy and forgiveness.
No, Narweh had never begged, but he was dead. And under the sorrow, there was blessed relief.
Caleb. He just looked at her. There it was again, the use of his name. He knew he should correct her, force her to address him as Master, and restore the delineation, the barriers between them, but he just couldn’t, f**king, do it. He was exhausted! So, damn, exhausted.
“Breakfast, I suppose. Afterward, we have to leave. Beyond that, I don’t care to discuss it,” he said. He tried to force some semblance of levity, but it fell flat and Kitten knew it.
“And last night?” She tried to keep her tone neutral, but Caleb knew her too well now and he didn’t have to guess at what she was really asking. She wanted to know if she meant something to him, if the fact they’d almost...fucked, changed his mind about selling her into slavery. The answer was yes…and, no. Vladek still needed to pay, and Kitten, still had her part to play. They were past the point of no return.
“I told you everything you wanted to know.” He paused, tempering his tone. “I’m not saying any more. So, stop asking.” He bolted out of bed and rushed toward the bathroom. Inside, he avoided his reflection and searched for a toothbrush. Two of them sat near the sink. He chose the least chewed and put some toothpaste on it. Germs were the least of his concerns. Although he’d showered only hours ago, he turned on the hot water, only the hot water, and set about stripping from his borrowed clothes.
The water scalded him and his own body fought to remove itself from the punishing temperature of the water, but Caleb, wouldn’t allow it. He forced himself to feel the stinging pain. He gritted his teeth and ignored the fact his skin would probably blister in places. Placing his hands against the shower wall he let the torrid water and multiple shower heads beat his confusion out of him. His back felt tight, already sensitive. The scars he wore tingled and came alive.