"Our broken toy," she corrected with a smile, remembering well how fond her lover had been of using the boy as well. "Unless you're gifting him to me entirely..."
Their villa on the cliffs was expansive, overlooking the small city on the north side of the island, complete with a small private beach that was accessible by a steep path that lead up to the back of the property. It was a beautiful piece of land dotted with mastics and pines, small orchard groves, and a large, stately home. The house was made of white stone with clay brick tiles to deflect the rain, all of the archways, windows, and doors (of which there were a lot) open to the air of the sea. Air moved freely through the house, keeping the inhabitants cool year round.
The grounds and vineyard were used to grow a few different kinds of fruits - figs, lemons, olives, and, of course grapes. The wines produced by Villa Vassilikos were a rich, sweet red sold all over their little corner of the Aegean. When Zoheret had come by the property nearly ten years ago, they had been owned by an old man who was on his deathbed and childless. She had assured him that the lands and vineyards would be tended by the same servant staff - whom the old man had come to regard as family. Now, the staff kept up the maintenance and routines as she and Saraekiel managed them all. All told, there was about a dozen servants who relied upon the success of the property for their livelihood.
The carriage climbed the hill slow enough for the slaves to keep pace, much of the journey shaded by the grooves of olive and lemon trees growing over the path. They came to a stop in front of the gate and Zoheret descended the carriage with help from one of the two servants who were awaiting their arrival. "Untie them and see to it that they are washed, clothed, and fed." She looked at her two house servants commandingly. They kept their heads down and nodded their understanding at her. Zoheret circled around to the back of the carriage to get her first glance of her new property up close.
The orange haired human was nearly a foot taller than she was, his greased muscles gleaming redly in the sun, sweat beading on his upper lip and shoulders, streaking down his face. His arms were scratched with old scars and odd little brown marks dotted his skin in no specific pattern, and looked strong. Perhaps she would let Saraekiel take this one into the vineyards. She paid no attention to the look of awe that followed her as she moved, turning his face with her hand beneath his chin. The other one was a bit smaller, though still taller than she was, his features much softer and his skin tender. The walk had begun to put the faintest of burns on his shoulders and chest. She looked both of them up and down, lingering on the parts of them that made them men, slackened now that the physical exhaustion of following the carriage. She found their eyes with an icy smile and licked her lips. "Welcome to your new home."
---
The day had simply dragged on, her duties as the Lady of the house - managing the kitchen, ensuring the cleanliness of the villa - failing to keep her truly occupied. Around early evening, while dinner was being prepared, she leaned into the kitchen and interrupted production to talk with her cook about the two new additions. She was informed that the two of them had baths drawn and were scrubbed clean, fed, and stationed in one of the spare rooms on the east end of the house. Pleased, she thanked her cook and informed her to have the blonde one sent to her chambers after dinner was cleaned up. She gave her permission to use either slave as necessary. With a nod from the human, Zoheret wandered back to her chambers upstairs alone.
As dark fell, she had summoned Saraekiel to her chambers. She had changed into a lighter chiton, a rich purple that draped over her beautiful body in a clinging way, and lounged on her side on the bed. It was large enough for two couples, covered in cream colored linens with pillows of dyed reds and purples. Outside the sun was below the horizon, staining the sky the color of fresh bruises, the water dark and quiet. A fresh, cool breeze drifted in from her open windows as she waited for her lover to arrive, her body warmed and primed with her own fingers. She squeezed her legs together, anticipation of trying their new bedroom addition driving her mad. She wore her golden curls long, flipped over onto one shoulder, her wings open and unglamoured - not that it would matter much to him, the only creature on this island that could see them regardless. In her free hand, she held a chalice of deep red wine and sipped from it as her chamber door opened.