A heart

Sentimentality and perversion blended to perfection in Wyatt's human heart. He wanted to express a promise, that he would care about Lexi, because he was taking someone's life into his hands. He was also a pervert, in the way of most human beings: enthralled by the novel, curious about where boundaries and lines ended, excited by the intimate.

So Wyatt dropped to his knees, the blood on his finger refusing to drip, or move at all, and with a shaking finger he painted a tiny heart on Lexi just underneath her bellybutton. A womb tattoo. The quietest but most perverted part of him pumped its fist inside, while the artistic side of him came to the fore. After the tiny heart, he started embellishing. He let his mind drift, and just painted whatever came into it, what his instincts told him to draw. After a couple of minutes he blinked, and looked at his finger, where a small smear of blood still clung, despite the now fanciful art on Lexi's abdomen — far more beautiful and detailed, in such minute precision, than he'd ever managed while doodling.

His hand dropped to his side.

"Wonderful! Just wonderful. A natural artist, and instinctive breeder here folks!"

The crowd applauded, and Wyatt blinked, confused at the auctioneer's words. Then a hand slapped him on the back, and others pulled him to his feet. To either side were Aaron and Erin.

"Now off to the back they go. I'm sure we'll see them again soon folks, much much more experienced than they are now, eh?" the auctioneer laughed at his own joke, then smacked his gavel down twice.

Acting on that signal, Aaron took Wyatt's arm lightly and started to lead him away. He looked around and saw Erin doing the same with Lexi. The elf princess was staring into space in a daze, writhing her hips, her mouth gaping open into an O, before she bit her lips and shuddered. Still she walked the entire time, and Wyatt didn't resist when he realized they were being taken to the same place, she was just a few steps behind him.

The backroom was dark and had tight hallways, and after a short walk Aaron and Erin shepherded him and Lexi onto an elevator that looked right out of the '50s. Aaron stepped onto it with them, while Erin bowed, a subtle smile on her lips, and left — presumably heading back to the ballroom.

Aaron grabbed the handle of the elevator controls and flipped the heavy handle upward.

"Where are we going?" Wyatt looked up, then his heart throbbed, and he looked to Lexi. She was staring at him through her long eyelashes, and when she noticed him looking she averted her sky blue eyes, and actually blushed! He smiled reassuringly at her, and was happy when her eyes flickered to him and then she slowly, agonizingly, returned his gaze and smiled, a small precious smile.

The elevator stopped and Aaron lifted the old-timy gate. "We're here. The loft. Please step off."

Lexi tugged at her flimsy robe nervously, and Wyatt grabbed her hand. "Come on, you're safe now."

"I. . . yes," said Lexi, her voice high, and chiming musically.

Wyatt's jaw dropped. "Oh wow, you sound beautiful, you were so harsh before."

"My. . . speak — language! — sound harsh to other ears. Too much. Muchly—" Lexi frowned in frustration, her fingers flexing in Wyatt's hand.

"Too complicated?" he offered.

She nodded, and grinned up at him. "Yes!"

"But I can understand you now," said the dumbass, not realizing what was going on.

"Your language. I understand, speak hard yet."

Wyatt looked at Aaron as they got to a door. "She doesn't speak well yet?"

"Pretty good considering she couldn't say a thing in English until you marked her huh? She'll speak like a native in a few months. Six tops. Now," Aaron opened the door and gestured inside, "settle in. Your payment must be processed."

"Haha, yeah, of course," said Wyatt, trying to seem a lot more comfortable than he actually was, "shall we?" he asked Lexi.

"Yes, my master."

After one step into the dark room, Aaron slammed the door closed behind them, and a blinding light went on. Wyatt was still blinking the room into view when he heard the kachunk of heavy bolts slamming into place behind them.

Ignoring it — there was nothing to be done while still blinking the room into view — Wyatt walked hand-in-hand with Lexi toward the center of the room, and the gigantic bed there with silken sheets. Suddenly he was thinking his plan to promise a firstborn and never have sex with the beautiful elf wasn't going to work.

A small jingling bell rang, and a dumbwaiter door slid open. Wyatt approached it to find a covered platter. He released Lexi — she pouted in disappointment the instant he did — and grabbed the heavy platter in both hands. There was a table next to the bed, so he took it there, and took off the steel lid. Steam wafted up, and with it delicious smells of roasted meat, glazed vegetables, butter, wine, and fresh bread. All the food would have taken hours, or at least one, to prepare, and Wyatt was impressed by the implication of food cooked just to be at the ready, to potentially feed people.

There was a note on the platter:

Rustic cuisine is delicious, and more comfortable for the elven maiden. As she is not accustomed to human cooking, we've started you out with a simpler menu. We hope you enjoy.

Huh. They were locked in, but if a few hours locked in a room came with such delicious food, Wyatt wasn't going to complain.

"How long do you think they'll make us wait?" asked Wyatt, realizing that it was even odds Lexi knew less about the strange workings of the Auction House than he already did, but still, he could hope.

"I know not. I care not," Lexi smothered him in a hug from behind, pressing her ample tits against his lower back — she was barely tall enough that if she stood on her tiptoes she'd be able to peek over his shoulder, "I just glad to be with you master."

"My name's Wyatt. You don't have to call me master. I guess a nickname wouldn't be bad though," he patted Lexi's arms where they circled around his chest.

"Then. . . my prince. I love you."

"Whoa," Wyatt struggled free, and turned to look at Lexi, "I'm flattered, but we've just met," he looked around, flustered, "I hope it's not more than an hour, two tops," he said, awkwardly.