Owned by Alpha Diétrich |BxB|

Chapter 4

"M-Master Åskir?"

A delicate voice carried out from the other side of the door, making my face morph into a frown. I hadn't ever heard someone call me by that. Only slaves addressed their owners by it. And I for sure did not have a slave.

I stood up from the bed and pulled on my pyjamas: red with green and black squares. My short strands were poking in every possible direction, but that would do, and so I swung the door open.

There was a massively tall man, my neck craning nearly ninety degrees backwards so I could meet his green eyes. He was muscular and intimidating, but his voice and nervously shaking hands told a different story.

"H-Hi, I'm y-your– y-your. . ." He cleared his throat, eyes all over, anywhere else than on me. He had a white shirt and grey pants, his ashy brown hair cut short and neat. He looked just like every other Delta wolf, a handmade tank in this case; which confused me. Master? This guy was calling me a Master?

I inhaled deeply, brushing my hair absentmindedly into a better shape, "Okay... what's your name?"

I pushed the door wide open, inviting him inside. But he wasn't moving. Instead, he tensed up from my initiative and turned even more timid, "W-Whatever y-you'd like to c-call me, Master..."

I blinked at him in bewilderment, trying to understand the situation while the sleep still weighed my eyes down.

"No, I asked your name."

He seemed like he would start to cry at any given moment, his eyes glinting in unshed tears and his cheeks coloured dark red.

"C-Cole. . ." he mumbled under his breath, his shoulders shaking and drawing towards his ears. I blinked at him and studied closer while my brows arched together.

"Well, Cole. I want you to call me Ezekiel," I said, beckoning him again into my room.

"Y-Yes Mas–. . . E-Ezekiel." He followed, somehow, staying close to the wall as I shut the door.

Something still bothered me, though: the way he spoke to me and watched me. Slaves had a tight etiquette they had to follow. Always talk clearly and aloud, keep your eyes down, posture straight, and never address anyone if they didn't ask for you to. He had broken many, many rules in the span of a few seconds. He didn't... was he a slave? A new slave? There was no way that he would've been one for a long period. Those errors were straightened very quickly by their masters the moment they were bought into slavery. Some might've been more lenient than others, but still... not as lenient.

He was strange.

"Why are you here?" I inquired finally, turning away to put some other clothes on. I did remember that Leonel was supposed to send someone over, but I had not expected this.

"I uh. . . I'm i-in your serving, Mast–" He cut himself off, a deep frown on his face. He looked to be in his thoughts, rubbing his hands anxiously. I didn't know what it meant, but luckily, he gave himself another chance to explain his presence, "I-I'm supposed to get you for breakfast a-and then to the courtyard."

He let out a stressed exhale, and I nodded to him as I pulled a black sweater on.

"Very well then. Come, let's go." I walked to the door, taking a couple of my knives and a gun with me– for caution. Of course. I checked the cylinder, turning around the revolver's barrel while the clicking sound echoed in the spacious hallway. I usually handled the silver bullets only when I had gloves on to prevent damaging my skin, so I didn't touch them.

Cole's footsteps followed behind me as I strode toward the staircase, deep in my thoughts. At least I was feeling better, now, so it would be easier to defend myself.