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.
Spring waited until he’d fallen to silence again before speaking. “Some that we bring here respond better to simple kindness than others. When we find one who doesn’t, Summer takes it as a personal … insult. She wishes you not to hurt.” Perching on the edge of the table, the blonde simply watched him.
“What do you want to know?”
“I haven’t insulted anyone. Well, not until just.. a minute ago… and that wasn’t an insult. That’s frustration. You know what I mean.”
He was disgruntled now, worked up and frustrated by everything, by how he couldn’t just function. He was waiting to be blindfolded and chained, electrocuted over and over, though it hadn’t come yet. If kindness didn’t work, what would be next.
“What was she talking about, about how I’d respond to… something?”
“You’re free.”
Spring didn’t adorn it, or soften it, merely laying the statement out baldly. “All that’s left is giving you the papers. Summer went to fetch them.” She swung her legs a bit, still watching him closely.
“We hoped you might want to stay.” It’s an odd quirk of speech they all have, saying ‘we’ where most people would use singular pronouns. “Your name has power, among the preternatural.”