The docks are cold this time of year. The sandals on her feet giving her no comfort. Chained to twenty other people, metal cuffs cutting into her wrist and ankles, she stood there. The only one out of twenty who held her head high- staring each buyer down with a glare as they walked by. She cared not she was dirty and naked, she cared not her ribs protruding from her body as did her spine- she was proud, she would make it through this.

A man wearing a thick coat, puffing a large cigar walked the line of women, a woman in fur at his side. Mila was the one in the center, looking them both in the eye. As they stopped and looked at her, Mila glared at them, dared them to speak to her.

"This one," the man said.

"But sir, this one has given us the most trouble!" another man said.

"I said this one!" the man yelled.

"Yes, Mr. Feltsman," the man said, fingering the keys quickly that were attached to his belt loop.

The smoke circled around her as she sat on the cold hardwood floor. The cigar was pungent, in a sweet cherry sort of way. Mila gazed at the knot in the wood on the floor, tracing it with her finger, curious how it turned out to be so smooth, and not catch one's sock as they walked through this room.

Not that she wore any socks, not the she ever owned any socks- she was promised a new life, a better life.

Then why was the collar around her neck so heavy, so cold- so final?

"My dear, I have explained to you… once you prove you do not run off, I will take that off," the deep rumbling voice the smoke was coming from said.

A hand in her hair, ruffling it in a sympathetic way. All she wanted to do was hiss out and scurry away from this man. His face so harsh and cold, his manners so proper and sure- her owner .

It had been a week, and each day- she tried to run. On the second day, she was chained down.

"I promise I will give you everything you could ever want," he would tell her, tipping her chin so their eyes met. "You just have to stay."

Stay . Why would one stay when they could be free? That was all she ever wanted- her freedom. She tried not eating, drinking or bathing herself, but he would not allow it. The food was too tempting. He would wave it in front of her face, telling her she was too skinny. After the second day, her resolve held no longer. She hated herself for it, she hated him for having such tempting food.

On the third day, he threw a bucket of water on her and had the other women bathe her. It was embarrassing and she screamed. He sat in the corner, his hands under his chin, watching.

"If you would clean yourself, we would not have to go through these measures," he said.

She tried to fight, she wanted to fight.

He only wanted to care for her, give her a better life.

"Let him take care of you," the women with a severe face said as she scrubbed at her scalp. "He brought us all in here, he takes care of us."

"I belong to no one!" Mila hissed out.

A bucket of water washed over her head. Sputtering water from her mouth, she turned and cut her eyes at Lilia.

"Doesn't it make you jealous he has me here?" Mila asked.

Lilia laughed, "Oh dear, you have much to learn. If you knew what was good for you, you would allow him to just care… his patience only last for so long."

What did that even mean? What was she supposed to do for him? She sat at his feet while he read and worked. Even graced his dinner table for meals, while sleeping at the foot of his bed at night. What more could this vile man want?

"He didn't buy you as a pretty ornament," Lilia spit out, "He has enough pretty ornaments around here."

Mila's eyes opened wide. What more could this man want?

She had stopped trying to run. There was no point. He had too many men that were far too fast. Every attempt, she never made it past the plum trees before she was picked up and brought back.

Kicking and screaming did no good. Only made the hands tighten their hold on her, leaving marks in their wake.

One day, Mila decided she was tired of trying to run. The days grew into weeks, and before she knew it, a month had passed.

It had been a week since she last tried to run. The bruises had fade from her last capture, but the metal around her neck only seemed heavier.

Tonight there was a great fur on the floor where her presence graced- a gift he said. She had not run in a week, and the floor is more comfortable as she sat on the fur, the knot on the wood hidden. Pungent cherry smoke dancing around her, his hand gently patting her head.

The fire in the room made it almost too warm. Even in the barest of tunics, her eyes grew heavy as did her head. His gentle voice was reading out loud to her. "A fairy tale," he had told her. It was a small moment each night she hated to admit that she looked forward too. It was private, secret. The harsh lines in his face grew soft as he puffed the sweet smoke, turning the pages, playing with her hair. It wasn't long before his voice that continued the gentle lullaby guided her into sleep.

She dreamed of far off places, princes and fairies. There was no collar around her neck, there was no such thing as the word ' slave '. No, she was free in her dreams. No one could take them from her.

If only she knew, he was the reason for those dreams. He was the knight in shining armor of her dreams. The little moments of dreamland that disappear the the first reckoning of your mind- he swept away with them.

It was too warm. The weight was too heavy on her body. Gasping for air, the room filled with darkness. Confusion riddled her mind as she tried to sit up.

Where was she? What is this place?

A candle lit in the corner as eyes started to focus- showed him . At his desk, in his bedroom, pen and ink in hand, face serious and covered in lines. He seemed lost in his work.

She was in his bed. She was use to the bed, she slept at the very last inch of it. Her thin wool blanket cocooned around her, arms as pillows.

This was not as such.

Her head rested on a feathered pillows as the blankets so heavy and suffocating were wanted to lull her back into sleep. The clanking of the metal on her collar drawing his attention, those eyes settling on her.

"Go back to sleep child," was all he would say.

How could she argue with something so simple?

Tiny gestures she found she craved. The hand on her head, playing with her head at night. The gentle touch of his hand on her face after meals- she leaned into it. What was this? What magic had he spun around her? Was the the cherry smoke that was doing this?

In two short months, she did not mind being near him; wanted to be near him. As if a strange fever had taken over her body. She no longer needed guidance to bathe, she wanted to be clean. She no longer starved herself, finding her body filling out curves in the right places.

His eyes watched her more, she found she wanted him to watch her.

Tunics Lilia would bring her- more elaborate by the day. She was told gems and stones from far away lands were sewn into them. "They compliment your eyes and hair," Lilia would say as she slipped the silky garment over her head. They were tighter in the waist and bust, but Lilia said was due to her finally being healthy again.

Liberties were given, though the metal collar still hung from her neck. She was more free to wander the halls and rooms. Many were boring sitting rooms, furnished in expensive linens and materials her hands had never touched before.

The library always drew her attention, though she could only read few words. Mila found herself losing hours in there, sounding out words, getting lost in stories her mind could barely wrap around. He always found her before dinner, curled up in the sitting chair by the window, face in deep concentration, lips moving- trying to understand.

"I can read to you whichever you desire," he would say.

"I want to learn to do it myself!" she would spit back.

"Then let me teach you."

Every afternoon, though he had so much to do, he found time to sit on the couch with Mila, teaching her. Her body was no longer tense, the frown lines almost gone. Even as he reached out to brush her hair off her cheek, she would inwardly smile, and sound out the next word.

"You are doing very well," he told her.

She liked hearing that.

There was no more sleeping at the foot of the bed. He welcomed her next to him. Always a gentleman, though. A kiss atop of her head before he blew out the candle. The blankets so heavy she would fall asleep quickly.

No longer did she dream of freedoms and open grounds. She dreamed of the estate and the great library. The smell of the old books, mixed with cherry smoke. His deep voice coaching her through teachings- telling her how well she did.

He noticed the soft smile on her face as her eyes fluttered in dreamland. She was far away now in her mind- he was right next to her. The moonlight cascading into the room, as small sighs fell from her lips.

He could wish to make her happy.

His happiest moments, as the light barely moved into the room, red hair in his face, a thin arm across his body, warm breath in his neck. She always moved at night, looking for him, wanting to feel safe.

She felt safe next to him.

"You need to remove her collar!" Lilia spat out.

"I shall… soon," he replied.

"Yakov! This is a disgrace! You have no other of your workers wearing them, now do you?" Lilia asked.

"Hush woman, you know not what you speak!"

"You are afraid she will run again. It has been months," Lilia said as she sipped her tea.

"Da, I could not bear the idea of her gone now," Yakov replied.

"You have treated her well, she sees this. You are not a normal owner, Yakov. You treat us all as people."

Yakov only hoped Mila knew and understood this. He could not bear her leaving, especially now.

The last thing from her mind was leaving. Sure, the opportunities were there. They were always there, tempting and teasing her.

Yesterday was a stallion tied to the fence post. How easily she could have jumped on and taken off.

The day before, the workers were in the barn and no one in the field. She would have not been caught.

No, she found herself walking the grounds, picking random flowers to bouquet in vases around the library. It brought the beauty of the outdoors in. He did not seem to mind, she even caught him smiling at them one day.

"These are random weeds you pick," he said to her as he fingered a flower.

"Even wild weeds can be pretty," she replied.

He ran his hand down her face. Yes- wild weeds can easily be pretty… and loved.

"YAKOV! YAKOV!" she screamed as she ran out of the library. Her bare feet sliding on the wooden floor, unable to find him.

"YAKOV!"

"Child! Stop screaming!" Lilia hissed out.

"Where is he? I need to find them!" Mila yelled out.

"Out back in the turnip garden."

Clutching the book harder to her chest, she ran through the sitting room. Ignoring the snarl from Lilia on the couch. As she reached the outdoors, the garden was off yonder through the apple blossoms. Screaming his name as she ran, her feet kicking dirt up to her knees, she cared not.

"YAKOV!"

Rounding the corner of the apple blossoms, she saw him, laid back against one of the many fences, his hat tipped over his face. Thick fingers lifting the brim and she saw the concern on his face.

"What are you hollering about?" he demanded.

"I did it!" she squealed.

He saw the lit up expression on her face. The book clutched close to her breast as she hugged it. She did not need to say more- he already knew.

"So you read the book. Did you understand it?" he asked.

"That is the best part! Yes!" she exclaimed and she threw herself at him. There was no thought in her mind as her arms wrapped around him. She was overjoyed, her mind thinking new things, learning more wonders. Her laughter had become a drug towards him. That hard outer shell dissolved with every cord.

"Good, good," he said as his hand ran down her back. Pleased she was happier these days. It had been a long road, but he only needed her to know, she was free with him. A small chuckle filled his chest, he found he laughed more when she was around- a feeling so foreign to him. How long had it been since he smiled? Laughed? Even Lilia had mentioned it to him.

Warm lips on his cheek caused him to gasp. Wide blue eyes staring at him- the realization of what she had just done hitting her, the way she was laced across his lap so openly.

Scrambling up, Mila felt her face as red as her hair. Mumbling under her a breath a very insincere apology, she ran back to the estate.

Yakov only smiled seeing the direction she ran.

The first time he truly kissed her- she was taken aback. Another night nestled at the fire, the fur under her as he sat in his chair, hand upon her head and ran aloud. Halfway through the reading, she was able to work her way into the chair, claiming it was colder than usual, she missed his warmth. "Plus I'd like to try reading to you," Mila said.

She had no idea what her body did to a man like him. The thin material of her nighttime gown, the way it pulled at her body while she easily settled onto his lap. His hand falling from her hair to around a thin waist, his fingers easily sinking into soft skin.

She was so determine, so fiery. Everything in her screamed for independence, though he kept her collared. It had only been half a year, and she had stopped asking for its removal. At times, he would catch her deep in thought, her delicate fingers tracing the metal. It meant she was his.

He liked that idea.

Yakov had the greatest of material things in his estate, from all around the world. A collector from old money, worthy family. He wanted everything around him beautiful, even his people. He got lost staring at her mouth as she read aloud to him. "Are you even listening?" she asked.

He had not.

Leaning in, his lips just barely touched hers. She did not flinch away, nor did she jump. He body still as she sat on his lap, his fingers sinking a bit deeper into her waist.

He wanted to test the waters.

He wanted to be sure.

"That thing you did last night," Mila said as he grabbed the book before sitting in his chair. He noticed she was fidgeting with her hands, looking down. She never looked down.

"You mean the kiss?"

"Da, the kiss."

"What of it?"

"I… I… liked it," she barely whispered.

He held his hand out to her, pulling her back to his lap. Cherry smoke from the cigar next to them circling around the chair. He had already taught her so much, given her so much. Tipping her chin, those blue eyes gazing through him, he was lost.

His mouth tasted of the cherry smoke and dark liquid he sipped from. Mila was not scared, she had been saved. Her life before him was meek and worthless. She had no knowledge life could be good and well.

As his tongue slid next to hers, a small whimper escaped her lips. She owed him her life. He saved her. As much as she fought in the beginning, she had been foolish, a brat. The more his tongue tasted her, the more she freeingly gave herself.

"I am yours, fully," she whispered to his lips.

"Do not tease me with such notions," the deep growl from him came.

"I am yours."

She took his hand, laying in on her collar, smiling before kissing him again. His fingers curled the metal band around her neck where the lock was.

"I can take this off," he whispered.

She could only shake her head in panic. It had become a part of him that was hers and hers alone. She felt if it was removed, she would no longer be his.

"I want to be yours, this makes me yours," she whispered, hiding her face in his broad chest.

He was so strong, so strong he easily stood, carrying her. Across the estate he took her to the bedroom, gently placing her on the bed. The key was right in the nightstand where she slept. Holding the key, he easily unlocked the band and let it fall off her neck.

"You will always be mine," he whispered, kissing where the metal was now gone.

A cry escaping her lips, moved his gaze to her face. Wiping tears off her cheek, he did not want to upset her. Soft kisses around her face, small words of cherishment and togetherness. She was his.

"Please, put it back on me," she whimpered.

"Mila," he whispered, his hand working down her body, "You no longer need that. That is for captive, you are not. You are free and always will be with me."

He was slow, he was gentle. The rustle of her tunic gown over her head, her breast illuminating by candlelight, the flush blushed over her skin- this was his.

Kisses down her collar, her navel, everywhere- she melted to the bed. "I will give you all you ever need," he whispered to soft skin.

It was slow, she was breathless as he pushed into her, holding her tightly. She was his. Now and forever more.

Sometimes it is the wildest weeds that are the most beautiful, he held tightly to them. She might have been bought as his ' slave ' but she was only freed through his love.