The next day, Cailan sat on the edge of his bed, holding his hand out in front of himself as he watched the tremble of his fingers with detached fascination. Every muscle in his body felt wound too tight, like a spring ready to snap at any moment.

What would happen to him if Liam refused to ever touch him again? The very idea sent a chill down his spine, making his skin prickle with goosebumps. His training had never prepared him for this kind of isolation, this complete lack of physical contact.

A sharp knock at the door shattered the silence, causing Cailan to jolt violently. He felt a rush of adrenaline surge through his body, his heart suddenly pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.

Cailan's gut twisted when Liam opened the door, and for a moment he just sat and stared. The urge to cuddle up with Liam was almost overwhelming. Cailan's skin seemed to ache with the need to feel gentle hands brush through his hair, to experience any kind of comforting touch.

Liam was halfway across the room before Cailan realised he hadn't stood, and he almost tripped over his feet as he hurried to climb off the bed.

Liam came to a stop, still well out of arm's reach from Cailan. The distance between them felt like a yawning chasm. Liam's voice, when he spoke, was controlled and distant. "You'll be coming shopping with me and a friend of mine from school today. Wash up and meet us downstairs when you're ready."

The words took a moment to penetrate the fog in Cailan's mind. His head spun, the room seeming to tilt around him. He nodded briskly, the motion making him slightly dizzy.

As Liam turned to leave, Cailan felt a surge of desperation. He wanted to call out, to bridge the gap between them somehow. But the words caught in his throat, trapped behind years of training and the new, confusing boundaries Liam had established.

As soon as Liam left, Cailan went to the bathroom and washed his face and then carefully combed and braided his long hair. His skin looked a shade too pale in the mirror, but he was otherwise presentable. He pinched some colour back into his cheeks and headed downstairs.

The house seemed larger somehow, more imposing, as he made his way to the greeting area. The carpet muffled his footsteps, making him feel like a ghost haunting the halls. As he approached, he could hear the soft clink of teacups and the low murmur of voices.

Liam was seated in a high-backed chair, his posture rigid. Beside him sat his friend, a boy around the same age with hair the colour of sun-bleached wheat and eyes like rich, dark earth. They both looked up as Cailan entered, their conversation cutting off abruptly. 

"You see what I mean, Tucker," Liam said with a nod to Cailan that made him feel like an animal on display. "He's just a child."

Tucker considered Cailan, his head propped up on his fist. “He’s old enough, isn’t he? All Companions are sold at thirteen. You'd get only the dregs if you bought an older slave.”

Liam gave a sharp shake of his head. “I wasn’t old enough for much of anything when I was thirteen. Why would he be?”

“Because it’s his entire purpose, Liam,” Tucker said with a roll of his eyes. “He has a sweet, innocent face, but don’t let that lead you astray. We all have our place. Don’t let him confuse you about his—or yours.”

“I’m not confused,” Liam insisted, an annoyed edge to his voice. “I just… don’t really know what to do with him.”

“That’s the beauty of slaves,” Tucker said, a sharp-edged smile flashing onto his face. “You do whatever you want to. Shall we go?”

Cailan trailed behind Liam like a shadow, his footsteps barely making a sound on the smooth cobblestones. He matched Liam's pace perfectly, close enough that the fabric of their clothing whispered together with each step. Though Liam seemed oblivious, each feather-light brush sent a thrill through Cailan's touch-starved body.

As they made their way down the tree-lined street, Cailan's gaze flitted between Liam and their surroundings. The stately homes and manicured lawns blurred into a backdrop, secondary to his hyper-awareness of Liam's presence. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the path, but Cailan felt no warmth from its rays—his entire being was focused on the aching need for contact that consumed him.

Liam and Tucker fell into an easy rhythm of conversation as they walked. Cailan observed silently, noting the casual way Liam's shoulder bumped against Tucker's, the relaxed set of his master's shoulders. The easy camaraderie between the two young men was nothing like the careful distance Liam always maintained with Cailan, the way his body seemed to tense imperceptibly whenever Cailan drew too near.

As they reached the bustling commercial street, they were enveloped by the chatter of shoppers and the clatter of horse-drawn carriages. Colourful awnings fluttered in the breeze, and the aroma of fresh bread drifted from a nearby bakery.

For the first time since leaving the house, Liam turned his full attention to Cailan. His expression shifted, the easy smile fading into something more guarded. "What kind of clothes do you want?"

Cailan's fingers twisted together, the nails digging half-moons into his palms. He swallowed hard before answering in a soft voice. "Whatever pleases you, sir."

Tucker muffled a soft chuckle against Liam's shoulder. "Oh, he is good."

Liam frowned, shrugging Tucker off. "I don't care what you wear," he said to Cailan, his tone clipped.

Cailan's shoulders slumped imperceptibly. Of course Liam didn't care. Why would he?

"What do you want?" Liam pressed again, gentler this time.

Cailan's skin tingled with the memory of Liam's touch, his body yearning for contact. He swallowed hard, pushing down the desperate plea that threatened to spill from his lips. The last time he'd asked for physical affection, Liam's face had twisted with discomfort. No, that wasn't what his master wanted to hear now.

"I—I don't mind, sir," Cailan murmured.

"There's a store that caters to slaves down there," Tucker said, gesturing towards a modest storefront. "Robes and such. That will be what he's used to and what he'll stand out in the least."

When Cailan offered no disagreement, Liam's shoulder's lifted in a noncommittal shrug. "Alright," he said, and they followed Tucker's lead.

The store they entered was a study in contrasts. Racks stretched from floor to ceiling, filled with a wide variety of robes. Ornate, shimmering garments fit for high-end Companions hung alongside simple, sturdy attire meant for labourers.

Liam held out his hands and gestured broadly. "What do you want?"

Cailan's gaze darted around the shop, his mind completely empty. His mouth went dry, pulse quickening as he struggled to understand what was expected of him.

"Um..." Cailan managed, the syllable hanging in the air between them. It wasn't evasiveness or submission; he was genuinely at a loss. That was not something a slave ever expected to be asked.

Tucker laughed and patted Liam on the shoulder. "He's probably not used to getting to choose his own things. Just grab him something for formal occasions and a few of the more basic robes."

Liam glanced at Cailan. "Does that sound okay?"

"Yes, sir," Cailan replied automatically, his posture relaxing slightly now that the burden of choice had been lifted from him.

Tucker's gaze wandered, then suddenly lit up. He leaned in closer to Liam, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Hey, they have changing rooms," he said, his eyebrows arching suggestively as a slow smile curved his lips. "Want to go examine one with me, Li?"

Liam's body went rigid, the easy posture he'd maintained with Tucker evaporating in an instant. His eyes flicked rapidly between Tucker and Cailan, his jaw clenching visibly. "I don't know…”

"Liam," Tucker said, his tone low and enticing as he stepped closer to Liam. Tucker's eyes scanned the store quickly before he leaned in, pressing a soft, quick kiss to the corner of Liam's mouth.

Liam's throat worked visibly as he swallowed, a flush creeping up his neck. After a moment of tense silence, he gave a quick, sharp nod. "Cailan," he said, his voice slightly hoarse, "why don't you look around for a minute?"

"Yes, sir," Cailan murmured, but he remained motionless, eyes fixed on the curtain as it swished closed behind Liam and Tucker.

The store's ambient noise seemed to fade away, leaving Cailan hyper-aware of every sound from the changing room. A soft thud, followed by the unmistakable wet sound of kissing. Cailan's skin prickled with heat, his cheeks burning. His throat constricted, making each breath a conscious effort. A knot formed in his stomach, twisting tighter as he heard a sharp intake of breath from behind the curtain.

Minutes stretched like hours. When Liam and Tucker finally emerged, their faces flushed and lips swollen, Cailan hadn't moved a muscle. He stood exactly where they'd left him, as if his feet had taken root in the floorboards.

Liam's hands fumbled with his clothing, smoothing wrinkles and adjusting his collar. "Did you find anything?" he asked, his voice slightly husky. His eyes darted to Cailan's face for a split second before skittering away, unable to hold his gaze.

Cailan's voice quavered as he responded, "No, sir. I—I'm sorry."

"Did you even start looking?"

Cailan's chin dipped to his chest, eyes fixed on his own feet. He shook his head minutely, shame and confusion warring within him.

The blow that landed on Cailan's bottom came as such a shock that he squeaked loudly, though it had only hurt a little. By the time Cailan realised it had been Tucker who had struck him, Liam already had a firm grip on the other boy's wrist.

"Don't hit him," Liam growled, his voice low and dangerous. His eyes, usually warm, had turned to ice.

Tucker shook his wrist until Liam let go. "He disobeyed you," he spat. "It was just a tap. My father whips his slaves."

Liam's expression twisted in disgust. "You think I should whip some poor kid every time he slips up?"

"Of course not," Tucker backpedalled, his voice losing some of its edge. "He's a Companion. It would be a waste to cover him in scars. It's important to keep them in line, though. He'll walk all over you if you let him."

Cailan stood frozen, barely daring to breathe. The sting on his bottom had already faded, but the tension crackling in the air made every hair on his body stand on end. His eyes remained fixed on Liam, silently pleading for guidance, for protection, for anything to make sense of this sudden chaos.

The sharp click of polished shoes on hardwood announced the shop clerk's approach. His face was a mask of professional disapproval, brows furrowed and lips pursed. "Is there a problem here?"

"No," Liam said. "Tuck, maybe you should wait outside."

Tucker let out a huff and shook his head. "No, I've had enough. You can figure this mess out on your own. See you at school?"

Liam's mouth tightened, lips pressing into a line. For a moment, he looked like he might argue, but instead he gave a curt nod.

As Tucker left, the clerk turned to Liam. "May I help you find anything?"

Liam's shoulders sagged slightly, the fight draining out of him. "Uhh..." His eyes flicked to Cailan, then back to the clerk. "A formal robe and a few for everyday wear for this one, I suppose."

Liam was quiet and tight lipped as they quickly completed their shopping, and as soon as his purchases were bundled up, he turned them in the direction of home. Liam's jaw remained clenched, his eyes fixed straight ahead as they navigated the cobblestone streets. They were halfway home when Liam finally broke the silence. 

"My father used to hit me when I was little," Liam said. "Before I learned never to cross him. I always promised myself that if I had kids, I'd never hurt them. Later, I realised I had no interest in women, so children seemed unlikely. But here we are." His gaze finally shifted to Cailan, softening. "I have you now, and I won't hurt you. Ever."

"Oh," Cailan said carefully. "One doesn't normally—I mean, you can—but normally people don't beat Companions. At the House, we were put into isolation as punishment."

"That does seem more reasonable," Liam said. "A time out for bad behaviour."

Cailan's teeth sank into his lower lip, the sharp pain a welcome distraction from the words threatening to spill out. His body thrummed with an urgent need, every fibre of his being crying out for Liam's touch. The thought of isolation, of being cut off from all human contact, sent a ripple of nausea through him.

He longed to confess that he'd endure any physical pain, no matter how severe, if it meant feeling Liam's hands on him. Even a slap, a punch—anything would be preferable to the yawning void of isolation.

That wasn't what Liam wanted to hear, though. If Liam knew the depths of Cailan's desperation for contact, his master's face would surely twist with revulsion. Cailan could almost see it—Liam recoiling, putting even more distance between them, eliminating even those fleeting, accidental touches that Cailan treasured.