A Dangerous Game (H 1.6)

The muscles in my back are tense, but I try to keep my expression placid while I wait for his reply and consider my answer.

"Your mother," I answer so softly it's almost below a whisper. I risk reaching a hand over to take his, squeezing it while I meet his gaze if he'll let me. "I want to be more than just a lover to you, Wells. I can be more than just a lover, if you'll let me. I told you, I see things others don't."

For perhaps the first time ever, I welcome the Whispers back to me and pull them closer like a security blanket. I stare at Wells, processing his request with as much shock as Clarissa does. It's reassuring, strangely, that it seems this isn't a common occurrence for him, that he is usually more refined than this. Though he offers cobbler like a master tempting their dog to do a trick with a piece of jerky, at least I know he hasn't tempted many dogs before, at least I know what I said was true enough to hit a nerve, but perhaps it was too true, too close to home.

I swallow, glance over at Clarissa then back to Wells. My words come slowly, quietly. "Can we...at least go somewhere...private first?"

Clarissa scurries away like a meek mouse, leaving you alone in Wells' vault room with Wells. He arches a brow and crosses his arms as if to say, "it is now your turn".

"He will see the bruises!" a Whisper tells you urgently.

What do you do?

"I know, I know," I answer the Whisper's warning as I stand. Clarissa's tone sticks with me, reassuring me without so many words that she won't let Standish burst back in here unannounced, though I can only imagine what their conversation in the hall might be while they wait. I don't need to be pitied.

I move over to stand in the open area beside the table, my back to Wells. I am a paper doll with thin knees and delicate hands, easily torn but defended fiercely by the ones who own me, if I can land the right owner.

"This isn't about stripping. This is about control. He just wants to know he's in control." I don't think I've ever spoken to the Whispers so openly. Our typical interactions have been me telling them to go away or shut up, or asking them for help. This is just...making me feel less alone.

My back still to him, I slip my arms out of the off-the-shoulder sleeves of my dress then fold the top of the dress down around my hips, baring my body from the waist up. My skin tingles as the air of the room moves over it and I take a few slow, shallow breaths before I turn to face him. I take small steps closer to him then kneel on the floor in front of him, finally bringing myself to meet his eyes.

"I am sorry," I tell him softly. "I shouldn't have said anything, especially with others in the room. You deserved privacy for that intimate moment too." I swallow and reach a hand up to rest on his knee. "Please forgive me." My gaze drops again, a stray piece of hair falling in front of my eyes, and I wait, heart pounding so hard I'm sure he'll see it.

The idea that Clarissa might suffer for my mistake is...probably exactly the kind of fear Wells wants to produce in me. I hope that it's just a threat, a tool to get what he wants, but I'm not nearly secure enough myself to start worrying about anyone else just yet. Clarissa will need to take care of herself, just like me.

I lift my head slowly until I meet his gaze again, breathing in and out a few times before I say, "Benson and Hedges suspect Lucky of killing Hard Strike. They haven't had the proof or power to do anything about it, but they will eventually if he can't prove otherwise or put them in their place."

I don't move from his touch, but I have to admit that the idea of Lucky learning I'm here now, feeding information to Wells instead of him, bothers me. It's what I've asked for, worked for, taken so many risks for, and it's illogical to feel the way I do, but aren't all emotions illogical? At least impractical.

"He does," I answer. "And he knows he needs to deal with them. He will."

I wonder just how much power Wells has over Lucky, if it's more than just the Merrimack. Maybe I would only cut a few strings from the puppet by trading myself for the ship, but isn't it better to belong to the puppetmaster than the marionette?

Wells is a shark, king of these waters, and it is both a disappointment and an encouragement that he maintains his interest in me. A disappointment because my half-naked apology wasn't enough to dissuade him, and an encouragement for the very same reason - he still wants me. For now.

I look up at him from where I kneel on the floor, quiet, then finally venture, "If I do...I'm worried you won't want me anymore." I lick my lips and lift my butt off my heels as I knee-walk up between his knees as he sits on the couch. I take his hand in both of mine. "You wanted me to prove I'm not some common trollop. Change the contract for the Merrimack officially, to make me yours, then I'll finish stripping for you."

"Stupid, stupid girl!" a Whisper berates angrily, mirroring your own emotions.

"They're coming back now, they were listening for him to call. Hurry, hurry," a girl Whispers.


What do you do?

I didn't think there was a way for me to be disappointed about redressing so soon, but this is it. I quickly get up from where I was kneeling, slipping my arms back into my dress and shimmying it back up my body as I move back to my seat on the couch trying to get myself into a dignified position before Standish and Clarissa return. Everything feels off-center now, spinning out of my control and right into Wells' commanding grip. I'm still assured of nothing, still as powerless as I was when I walked in here, maybe even weaker.

But at least I get blackberry cobbler and ice cream. At least I still have that.

The cobbler tastes buttery and flakey and the blackberries have to be freshly picked. The sharpness of the berries is cut by the sweetness of the half-melted ice cream, which is a perfect vanilla. Wells enjoys the dessert, but not with as much vigor as the main course. Clarissa rejoins you and attends to refills with purified water. The dessert feels unnerving as the Whispers continue to taunt you for frelling up with Wells. Clarissa checks on you a few more times than before.