by CY Jones
Seconds later a small click alerts me, before the cage door swings open, and I crawl out. Blake is still on his bed lying unabashedly naked with his arms folded behind his head, looking like the king of the world. When his gaze meets mine his cock twitches, and starts to harden.
“Someone will take you to shower and change. I have work to do, and I expect you to be on your best behavior while I’m gone,” he says, running his eyes up and down my naked body.
If he expects an answer he will be solely disappointed. I’m glad he’s leaving, and hope he doesn’t come back, but that’s just wishful thinking. A girl with smooth cocoa skin, and wide brown eyes enters the room, and motions me to follow her. Gladly, I turn my attention to her, and almost mow her over in my rush to escape Blake and this room.
“Shadow,” he says as soon as I get to the threshold of his door.
Turning my head, I reluctantly look over my shoulder at him.
“The next time I hear you murmur another man’s name, sleep or not, you will be punished accordingly.”
Giving him a parting glare, I follow the girl out of the room, and down the hall. Is that what this morning was about? I must have said Hunter’s name out loud and this morning was Blake’s way of getting back at me. Silly boy. Doesn’t he know I don’t give two fucks what he does or who with? For him to get jealous is completely ludacris to me. For him to be jealous means he’s deeply involved, and his love is something I want nothing to do with. It’s tainted just like he is. A mistake in a perfect world. No, Blake better stick with the blonde, because he may take my body, but he’ll never have my heart.
The room the girl leads me to is just as huge and posh as Blakes. It’s decorated in the same traditional style, but the colors are more feminine, and it’s blissfully free of custom sex slave pieces.
“I’ve ran you a bath. I will wait out here until you’re done,” the girl says.
“What’s your name?” I ask instead of heading into the ensuite bathroom.
“Lisa, I’ve been assigned as your maid,” she answers.
“I don’t need a maid,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “I don’t plan on being here long.”
“I’m sure Veronica will be happy to hear that, but until that happens, I’m assigned to you, and what Master Blake says is law.”
“Veronica,” I frown, clucking my tongue. "Was she the blonde from earlier?”
“Yes, she’s been after Master Blake for a while now. He only uses her from time to time, usually when he wants to let off steam for his more creative side,” she answers, trying to stay politically correct to the psycho she works for.
“You mean his sick twisted side,” I reply with what she’s too afraid to say, and she blushes at my bluntness. “Whatever," I wave my hand. "She can have him. I don’t want a single thing to do with him.”
“It’s not your choice. Master Blake has been pining for you for years now. You’re his ultimate prize. That is why you were given this room. It’s the Queen suite to his King. Ronni will have to get over it, and hope Master Blake doesn’t give her over to the guards. They’re all centars, and girls who end up there don’t last long."
Ignoring what she just said, I ask, “how long have you been working for that arsehole?” While I’m here I might as well collect as much information as I can. Who knows it might come in handy for later.
“I’m a legacy. My family has been working for the Sampsons since the slavery days. I was born into servitude. My mom works as the housekeeper for Master Blake’s father. My father is his driver.”
“Ummm, you do know slavery is illegal right?” I ask, raising a brow.
“I’m not a slave. I make a wage, and I can leave this house any time I want. Can you say the same?” she asks tartly, and I like the fire I see in her eyes. Apparently she’s not as meek as I first thought.
“Fair point,” I say smiling. "I was wrong to judge, and you’re right. You have way more freedom than I do right now.”
She gives me a small nod, and I know I’ve been forgiven. Not wanting Blake's scent on me any longer, I walk towards the ensuite, pull that stupid plug out of my arse, and take a long hot bath. I stay in the bath long after the water begins to cool as I think of a way to escape. What is Blake’s endgame? He wants to marry me, but why? I hate to think what Lisa said is true, and that Blake has indeed been pining for me all these years. How twisted is that? He used to pass me around to his frat brothers like candy for fucks sake. So many twists and turns in this journey that is my life, but there's a light at the end of the tunnel, I just need to hold on until then.
When I exit the bathroom, Lisa has an outfit laid out for me on the bed. A dark green knitted midriff top, and a short flowy white skirt with printed flowers. It’s way too girly for me, but I’m sure this is the kind of outfit Blake expects his wife to wear. I gather my long hair into a messy bun on top of my head, and decline Lisa’s offer to do my makeup. I'd rather go without. The less I impress Blake the better.
“You have cable, including all the premium channels,” Lisa says, pointing to the huge flat screen anchored on the wall, "and the library in your room is fully stocked. If there's something you like to read just let me know, and I’ll get it for you."
“Joy,” I say flatly. He’s made this room up for an extended stay. An offer I don’t plan on accepting.
Lisa’s reply is interrupted when Veronica enters the room carrying a tray of food.
“Here,” she says slamming it down on the table in my sitting area, and I’m sure if the pitcher of juice wasn’t covered it would have spilled all over the lush carpet.
“You know once he gets tired of you, he’ll be all mine again, and you’ll be nothing but a fuck toy for his guards. I heard even their cocks are as big as a horse. That’s why the girls who get sent there don’t last long."
I’m about to give delusional barbie a piece of my mind when Lisa beats me to it.
“You know Ronni, if Master Blake hears about you talking to his future wife like that, it will be you that’ll be the guard’s fuck toy, if he doesn’t have plans to send you there already.”
Giving us both a look of pure hate, Veronica turns on her six inch heels, and stomps out the room.
“Ignore her, she’s just jealous. You should eat, I’m sure you’re starving by now.”
“I’m not touching that shite. I’m sure that cow has spit all in it, or dropped it on the floor a couple of times on the way up here.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right. I’ll go ask the cook to make you some more food.”
With that she collects the tray, and leave me to my own devices.
I spend the day in my room reading. After bringing me another tray of food, Lisa asks if I want to go outside into the gardens, but I decline her offer, thinking it would be too much temptation for me, plus it will only serve to remind me of the time I spent in Maddie’s poison garden. It’s only been a day, and I already miss him and Silas. His deadline is coming up soon, and I’m still trapped here. The day goes by slowly as I read and ponder a way to get back to my men.
“How is my little pet? I’ve been told you’ve been very good today,” Blake says entering the room. I haven’t seen him all day. I was starting to get used to him being gone, and foolishly hoping he’ll stay away. Currently I was sitting indian style on the couch binge watching the last season of Game of Thrones getting myself ready for season eight.
“I’m fine,” I answer, eyeing him warily. He’s calm right now. Dressed to the nines in a dark custom made suite, but Blake’s moods change like the weather, and I was ready for him to snap.
“Come wife, give me a kiss.”
He watches my every step when I walk toward him. My intent was to kiss him on the cheek, but he moves his face at the last second, and our lips meet, and he takes advantage by pushing his tongue in my mouth.
“I heard you had trouble with Veronica today,” he says when he pulls back, brushing his thumb lightly across my cheek.
“Nothing I c
an’t handle,” I reply, waving my hand.
“Still, she knows how special you are to me. It shouldn’t have happened and she will be punished.”
“Whatever Blake, this is your house.”
“Ours,” he corrects.
“What?” I frown.
“Ours, Shadow. Once the contracts are signed and done with, you’ll be my wife. We will prove that supernaturals and humans can get along, and stop all this talk of war your father has started.”
“Is that your end game? To unite our species so you can what? Rule over all of us, because you claim you brought us together,” I say sarcastically, making quotations in the air.
“I’m a man with many ambitions, and you are the key to most of them,” he replies.
“I’m nothing but a glorified mail bride. If I’m your means to an end, then I implore you to find someone else,” I spit out hatefully.
“I don’t want anyone else. All I ever wanted was you since the first day I saw you.”
“You have a funny way of showing it,” I laugh in his face, making him turn red with anger. “You use to pass me around to your friends. What part of that shows that you care?”
“I was testing you. Making sure you were strong enough to handle me. To sate my dark side, and you are. You are everything I could ever want and more. Beautiful and strong, and you see me like nobody ever has. You satisfy me, and if you let me, I can make you very happy.”
“Dude, I am not your Anastasia to your Christian Grey, so take your 50 Shades of Grey bullshite somewhere else,” I yell frustrated. How deluded can he be? What will it take for him to see I will never fall for him?
“You’re not listening, Remy. There isn’t anyone else. You are it for me. You are my endgame. Look, I’m going to leave before you piss me off further, and I’ll have no choice but to punish you. Lisa will be up to get you dressed for dinner.”
With that he leaves me in utter shock over everything that was just said. Him and that delusional barbie are meant for each other, because this is a little much.
Just as he said, Lisa enters my room holding a glittering black dress in her hands. For the next hour, I let her get me ready not really caring anymore. Trying to talk sense into Blake is pointless. Isn’t there some kind of saying about arguing with insane people?
“There,” she says smiling wide at her work.
I don’t even bother to look at what she’s done, instead I thank her for all her help, and she leads me to the dining room.
Twenty-One
Consequences
Remy
When we get there Blake is already seated in another dark suit. I knew he would be at dinner, but I didn’t expect the elegant couple that was also seated at the table. Both are older probably in their late sixties with grey hair. The man has Blake’s ice blue eyes, and for his age he cleans up quite nicely in a dark Tom Ford suit. The woman is dressed in an elegant dark blue gown that compliments her indigo eyes nicely, and is decked out in glittering jewels. As soon as Blake sees me, he and the older gentleman stand, and Blake pulls out my chair beside him like some proper gentleman. Not having much of a choice, I take my seat.
“You look lovely,” he says eyeing my body with lust, before kissing me on the cheek.
“Thank you,” I reply.
“Grandpa, grandma, this is my fiance Remy. Remy, these are my grandparents, Thomas Sr. and Martha,” he says introducing us, which does nothing but pisses me off with each word. Didn’t we just go through that I’m not marrying him. Now he’s introducing me to his family.
“Nice to meet you,” I say through clenched teeth.
If the two are shocked by the introduction they don’t say anything. In fact, they are both so emotionless they would make convincing mannequins.
“It is nice to meet you, dear. Do you know what kind of wedding you and my Blakey will be having?” The older woman asks.
“I have no clue,” I answer.
“Oh dear, I’ll have to send over some bridal catalogs for you to look through. You must not get behind on these things.”
“Dear, I’m sure Blake will hire a nice wedding planner. It’s not like when we got married,” the old man tells her as he pats her hand affectionately.
“I swear the new generation is so backwards. In my day we made an event out of planning our weddings,” she huffs, and I stare at the two like they’ve lost their minds. She reminds me of old people who will sit and tell stories to their grandkids about having to walk fifty miles to school. Right when she gets into a lecture on the younger generation having their heads stuck on the net and the cloud thingy, the servers enter, placing our meals in front of us. When I see Veronica holding a bottle of wine in an ice bucket I gasp and do a double take. Her mouth is cut deeply from one end to the other into a gruesome joker’s smile, and she’s hunched over, like it causes her great pain for her to walk straight.
“Oh my,” Blake’s grandmother says, staring horrified at Veronica. “That girl is defective. Why is she serving us, Blakey?”
“She’s the guard’s maid. I was short a server, so I borrowed her for the night,” Blake answers smoothly.
“Well send her back to those beasts, she’s unpleasant to look at,” she replies, clutching her chest.
“You’re dismissed,” Blake tells her coldly.
A tear forms in her eye, and she leaves as quickly as she can in her hunched over state. Sure Veronica is a bitch, but she didn’t deserve that. I look over at Blake, and he gives me a smug smile. I’m sure his story about being a server short is complete bullshite. He wanted me to see Veronica. Either to show me the lengths he’ll go to to defend my honor, or to warn me how brutal his punishments can be. The consequences of defying him.
I’m quiet the rest of dinner. No one bothers to talk to me, and I make no effort to engage with them. When dinner is finally over, Blake escorts me back to the Queen Suite he gifted me, leaving me with a peck on the corner of my mouth before returning to his grandparents in the parlor for a nightcap.
Hours later I’m still up when he comes up the stairs ready for bed. With my sensitive wolf hearing I hear him stop in front of my door, and I hold my breath praying that he doesn’t come in here. I’m relieved when he continues down the hall to his own room, and I release the breath I was holding in. I knew that if he would have come in here and tried to touch me, I would have fought him. For whatever reason he isn’t pushing himself on me, and I’m grateful for the reprieve, but I’m also wary. Still I won’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
Blake wakes me the next morning, petting my hair like I’m some overgrown cat. It must be early as shite since there's barely any light coming through the windows.
“I’ll be away on business for the next three days. I have a wedding planner scheduled to come by tomorrow to meet with you. I expect you to be on your best behavior until I return,” he says giving me a stern look.
“Ok,” I croak. My voice hoarse from sleep. I’m not going to argue with the crazy man, especially since he’s leaving.
“Ok what?” he growls.
“Ok, Master,” I sigh loudly, and he narrows his eyes at me.
“We’re going to have to work on that attitude of yours. You’re lucky I don’t have the time right now, or I’ll have you bent over my discipline bench.”
I match his gaze. Maybe it’s suicidal seeing as how I know what he’s capable of, but I can’t seem to help myself.
“Don’t test me, pet. You won’t like the consequences. I love you,” he says shocking the shite out of me before he gets up to leave.
"What the fuck," I think to myself.
Twenty-Two
Savior
Atlas
The call I’ve been waiting for has finally come. I smile down gleefully at my cell when I see O’Donnell’s name lit up on the screen. It seems like he’s had enough of us fucking with his businesses. I already knew Phantom froze a couple of his major accounts. To add insult to injury I deployed my men to take back prime territo
ries he stole from the shifters. It’s been a glorious couple of days. I’m tempted to let the phone go to voicemail, and let the man sweat it out, but thinking about where Remy is right now I pick up the phone.
“What do you want?” I ask curtly.
“Ye know why I’m calling, boi, so cut the shite,” he replies.
“I’m not a boi, and yes I do know why you’re calling. You’ve come crawling back to me when you realized you’ve made a big mistake. You should have never sold Remy to the Senator’s son, but for the life of me I don’t know why you’re calling now. I read an interesting article on page six in the New York Times about the Sampson boy and Remy’s upcoming nuptials. It seems like the deal is done, so forgive me for being confused.”
“That boi is jumping the gun. Remy is out on loan. Nothing more,” he sputters.
“You talk about her like she’s a car.”
“If the shoe fits. There's plenty of miles on that…”
“I suggest you don’t finish that sentence if you don’t plan on getting hung up on. Why are you calling me?” I question, interrupting him.
“I want to make a deal for the girl,” he answers tersely.
“I’m listening,” I say.
By the end of our conversation we still don’t come to an agreement. The greedy fuck still won’t budge on a percentage in my company, but he has lowered his asking price to twenty percent. We’re still in negotiations, but he is allowing me to retrieve Remy from Blake Sampson’s mansion tonight, and bring her back to the tower in downtown DC where he’s currently residing. We’re supposed to hash everything out after she’s home. I’m sure it won’t be long for him to crack. He’s smart enough to realize selling Remy to me without any ties to my business is the best choice he has, especially if he wants his life back.
