He let an absolutely audible sigh escape him as he clung to Yvette. She had begun to squirm in his hold and he loosened his suddenly tight grip and she relaxed, leaning her head against his chest. Not a bed warmer? He could breathe a lot easier knowing that she could be trained in something useful, like his own sister had been. Though, she had become a warmer despite her protests. But what was the complaint of a slave other than white noise to the ears of the masters? Some took it as disobedience and ungratefulness. Many who complained at the gladiator school or in his slave home would have been taken out back and beaten if male, taken to a master or one of his sons to be raped if a woman. Such punishment remained a permanent scar on a slave's mind.
Yet Siv's threat hung heavily over his head. The two of them would have to behave themselves, sometimes carefully, sometimes not, if they both wanted to protect the girl's grace and virtue. Yvette may not yet understand what it meant, or rather not know what it was, but Gale knew that for her mate that was to be saved. Now, it seemed that such a thing was not possible unless the shackles of servitude were lifted. How likely could that possibly be? Gale barely held his breath in that regard.
"I can teach her something, Domina," he said softly, knowing that he had some sort of skill that his sister would have liked the rough and tumble daughter to find. Perhaps it was not for her and perhaps it was, only time would tell. They would have to wait until the girl shifted for the first time to begin any sort of real training and that was months away. "I can teach her to weave once I make a loom and she has found her feet." He knew the woman's threat was truth, so he kept his voice meek and kept the insolent tone out.
Image credited to RomeCabs. Table style inspired by Kitty.
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