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I nestle closer to him for comfort, my fingers stroking his bare chest. Something tells me this isn’t a nice story, and I’m prepared for it.
“The couple who fostered me was indeed rich. I was so excited, thinking that these well-off people wanted me, that they could grow to love me, but from the moment I arrived at their mansion on the East Coast, I realized that wasn’t the case at all. They didn’t want children,” he murmurs, his eyes riveted to the stars. “They wanted workers.”
“How terrible,” I rasp, imagining a tiny Spade desperate to be loved, only to find cruelty instead.
“It was, but at least we were somewhat fed. We certainly didn’t eat the same things as they did.”
“How many of you were there?” I ask, catching his use of “we.”
“Five,” he answers. “Two girls and three boys. They put me to work in the gardens mostly, but sometimes, during parties, I was forced to walk around with a tray of drinks and cater to their rich friends. Not a single one of them questioned a bunch of kids working around them. I have memories of being five and offering little slices of cheese to grown, drunk men, but at least I wasn’t on the streets. At least I wasn’t dying of the same diseases running rampant through my country. They reminded me of that often.”
“So what happened?” I ask. “How did you find your way here?”
He takes a deep, rattling breath. “They fed me, but not much, not enough to run far. It was a strategy. If we didn’t eat too much, we wouldn’t have the strength to run away. Apparently, they learned their lesson before I arrived there. They had a history of using that tactic, and the state continued to allow them to foster, but my escape . . . That’s simple. Freedom.”
“Freedom?” I ask, frowning up at the tiger in the top of the tree.
“Yes. She was also their captive, arriving a few years after I did. They kept her in a cage in the back garden. She was a source of entertainment, just as I was. She was underfed, but not so much that she wasn’t still terrifying. I saw a part of me in her, a caged animal at the mercy of others. She must have seen the same in me. When I started talking to her while I worked around her cage, she’d sit and listen. At some point, I grew foolish enough to pet her. Imagine my surprise when she let me.” His soft laughter tells me this was a bit of happiness from his past, that Freedom became that.
“There was a party, another extravagant thing to celebrate something. I couldn’t tell you what it was, but the house was full, and we were dressed in our work outfits and given trays. Some drunken asshole knocked into mine as I was walking past and spilled all my drinks. The silence in that ballroom was deafening as everyone turned to look at me. I’d been hit before, but never quite like I was by the man who ran into me. At the silence, he turned and backhanded me.”
He shifts against the branch, readjusting me so we’re more comfortable. “I remember tasting blood in my mouth as I sprawled across the floor. I remember looking up at him with blood dripping down my lips. I also remember my foster parents watching, drunk and unconcerned, as one of their guests moved to hit me again. When his boot hit my ribs, I screamed and scrambled away. He was drunk and really clumsy. I assume the only reason I avoided being beaten into a pulp was because of that.”
“They all sound like assholes,” I comment.
“They were, but it’s okay. There are always bad people in the world. What they did to me wasn’t nearly as bad as what they did to the girls they fostered. I was too young for their games at the time. They preferred their boys to be older.”
I gasp and move to sit up, but he holds me against him, his embrace strong and reassuring.
“Don’t worry for me, habibti. I escaped, and I got the others out too.”
“How?” I ask.
I can feel his smile rather than see it. “When that man tried to come after me again, I ran out of the house and found myself in the back garden. Freedom was sitting up in her cage, her intelligent eyes watching me. She chuffed at the blood on my lips and the way I held my ribs. I walked up to her cage and touched my fingers to her forehead, and she let me, pressing against my palm, asking for help, just as I was asking her.” He laughs. “I was a skinny, weak, little boy, but Freedom? She’s a queen just like you. She always has been, and she didn’t deserve her cage, just as I didn’t deserve mine. It was a silly instinct to pull the pin on her lock and open it. She could have killed me, but she didn’t. Instead, she climbed down slowly and looked at me as if to say, ‘Well, come on, skinny boy. Let’s escape together.’ She refused to move until I climbed onto her back and pressed my face into her fur.”
“So you got out?” I murmur, and on the back of a tiger no less.
“We cut our way out,” Spade corrects. “We left through the ballroom, taking down anyone in our way. Some of them laughed when they died, so drunk they didn’t realize what was happening. A few of them screamed and tried to run, but my foster parents weren’t in the crowd of those who died. They sensed trouble and immediately locked themselves in their safe room, so although we escaped, for a long time, I thought they’d come after me.”
“You named her Freedom,” I remark, “didn’t you?”
He nods. “I did. I tried to set her free after we were safe, but she refused to go. She’s been with me ever since. She knew the boy named Roman, and now she knows the man name Spade. I’m both.”
I lift up and look down at him, reaching up to cup his jaw. “You freed each other. She needed you just as you needed her.”
His eyes sparkle. “Yes, and neither one of us will ever be placed in a cage again, just as you won’t be.” He strokes my jaw. “My queen. My Ember.”
I lean down and kiss him, seeing him for who he is. Spade is always the gentlest of my men, the most sensitive. I assumed it came from being so close to animals and seeing their unconditional love, but it’s more than that. It takes great strength to suffer such injustices, to be mistreated and refuse to ever treat anyone the same. It takes strength to remain as gentle as he has, especially with all the badness he sees every time the cirque calls him. It makes me want to protect him despite knowing he doesn’t need it. He’s a force all on his own. Just because he’s sweet doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of doing terrible things to save those he cares about.
Spade’s lips are plump and full, a feature that should be feminine on his face, especially with his long lashes, but it only adds to his masculinity. As I nestle against him, he smells like vanilla and incense, like he was in Hilda’s tent recently. I know the two enjoy meditating together. Perhaps he was there at some point today.
When he kisses me, it feels like home, just as it does when I kiss the others. He’s gentle and slow, delivering an all-consuming kiss that starts on my lips and ends in my soul. When his hands slide down my back, I moan into his mouth, suddenly desperate for more, needing to taste the freedom he exudes. I’m still not sure if this is all a dream, these men whom I so easily gave my heart to, but I know what I feel is as real as the tree beneath us. What we feel for each other is as old as this wooden giant, as if we were always meant to find each other.
“I need you,” I murmur against his lips. “Please.”
“You don’t have to beg me, habibti,” he purrs. “You always have me.”
I thank the stars that I’m wearing a nightdress instead of pants this evening. I reach between us and stroke his hard length through his linen pants, moaning at the hardness there. He’s so ready for me and as desperate for me as I am for him. I tug the waistband of his pants down, freeing his length, but there’s no room or easy way to remove his pants completely, so I leave them where they are, with only his cock exposed.
