Damian's Oracle (Chapter Four, page 2 of 14)

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"Come in, Two," his master replied.

He obeyed. The air of the dark bedroom smelled of sex and blood. He opened the windows, which did little to shed light into the stone room with its masculine, black d├ęcor.

"It's so creepy," a woman's voice complained.

When he turned to place their breakfast on the table near the patio, he thought he recognized her. Maybe when she came in. He must have seen her then. His master said a slave didn't need to remember anything but his master, and he didn't try too hard to remember her.

His master emerged from the bed, naked. His hair was silver, his body broad-shouldered and muscular. His visitor wore a T-shirt and had hair the color of last night's sunset.

"I don't know why you bother with it," she said in disdain, looking at Two the way his master did.

"Your breakfast is served," Two said automatically.

"I see that, you fucking idiot," his master said and slapped him.

Two took his place in the corner, where he stood all day, no matter which room his master was in, in case his master needed him.

"Now that you're here, my lovely Claire, you can help me nail that son of a bitch for good," his master said. "Between you and the Oracle, there's no stopping me."

"Anything for you," she said.

They looked at each other. His master glanced over to make sure Two was in his assigned corner, and then pulled off the visitor's clothing.

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