Send “Auction” for your muse buying mine as their slave
Derek snarled lowly but kept his head down as he was transferred to the person that bought him, seeing a small female form before him now.
She sighed and shook her head. “I can’t help you if you aren’t willing to /be/ helped,” she said, and let the driver assist her out of the car without another look. Someone else — a different woman, taller and brightly blonde — came and pulled Derek out, guiding him around the outside of the huge house to an entrance at the back, through a garden just coming into bloom.
Still in silence, the blonde gestured him to sit on one of the plain benches lining what appeared to be a mud room, and fetched a first aid kit. Though she didn’t remove the cuffs, she sponged away all the dirt and dried blood, and did — something — that boosted his healing momentarily. From there, she took him into a big kitchen and brought him a bowl of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich, humming quietly to herself as she made the sandwich.
“My name is Spring,” she said, quietly, before leaving. “When you’re finished here, ring the bell and Winter will come show you where you’ll be staying.”
Derek scowled hard at that again. How could he be helped? No one ever wanted to help him. She still didn’t want his help, she wanted his protection. So he just bit back that retort and watched her slide out of the car.
When he was guided out he went and did as directed throughout the whole process. He was on auto right now, just doing, not thinking. He had other things on his mind. He did examine his wrists after she cleaned them. He didn’t flinch or growl while she cleaned them, though it hurt. He was too used to that form of mundane pain. He felt his healing surge and raised an eyebrow, his only reaction to the woman so far.
He ate as directed, though he couldn’t eat much of it. He hadn’t been living off of much before so there was maybe one bite out of the now rich seeming grilled cheese and a few sips of the soup. He nodded to her instruction and before this Spring could slip away he murmured a small ‘thank you’ and that was all.
He did eventually ring the bell. He had nothing else he could really do, though exploring on his own was tempting. He just gave it one jingle and let it fall over, sneering at it. Who was he to summon someone with a bell? It seemed more than demeaning.
Summer watched Derek, discreetly, through slots in the carven screens separating the kitchen from the hallways leading deeper into the house. One eyebrow ticked up when he thanked Spring, but her mouth pinched when she saw how much food he’d left behind. Her twin came and stood by her shoulder for a moment.
“Do you think he’s salvagable?”
“Oh, yes. But it’s going to take a long time. He’s very broken.”
“Have we got it?”
“We need this one. He’s the first Hale I’ve been able to track down.”
Winter, dark-haired and looking remarkably like Summer, emerged into the kitchen. She righted the bell wordlessly, and put the soup and sandwich remains on a tray. “You won’t be taking up your assigned duties for several days,” she said, voice a higher alto than her sister’s.
Carrying the tray balanced on one hand, she took his elbow and guided him through a locked door into a long hallway. One door stood open, revealing a little bed/living space, with a bathroom off one side. She put the tray on the low table, and reached for his wrists.
Then the cuffs fell away. “This is yours.”