At His Mercy

by S. S. Richards

  “Oh yeah? Now you hit like a little bitch?” I tell him and we both fall to the ground.

  Aleksandr and I used to train like this. We would start fighting to determine who’s the winner at the end.

  “You still have it in you, brother,” I say to him.

  “You too, man.” He gets up and stretches his arm out in order to help me stand up. I grab it and he pulls me right up. I pat his shoulder and walk back to my desk. He takes a seat in one of the chairs across and chugs the water in his glass in one gulp.

  “So, what’s the reason behind those bags underneath your eyes?” he asks, a grin on his face. “Too much fucking last night?” He winks at me and I shake my head.

  I haven’t fucked her yet. But whatever happened yesterday left me in a daze. I lost her for a moment and that was only a glimpse of whatever burden she keeps locked inside of her. The way her eyes looked back at me, through me, studying me and touching my soul with their vulnerability is something I’ve never experienced before. When I left her room last night, I stayed up, pacing the floor in my room as anger consumed me. Why did she cause that reaction in me? I asked myself over and over again as I threw a fit and knocked everything down in my room. No amount of alcohol could shake her out of my mind last night.

  A knock on the door is followed by Mikhail walking in with Elena. Her eyes drift from Aleksandr to me and a sudden dizzying rush of power hits me. The air goes from cold to hot within a matter of seconds as she stands next to Mikhail. I stare at her eyes ravenously. I don’t think I’ll ever get rid of the craving and hunger that seems to take a hold of me every time I see her.

  “Sir, Ms. Romano wants to speak to you,” he says.

  Aleksandr gets up and cocks a brow at me. I ignore him. I know what he’s thinking and I’m not looking forward to all his questions later on. I wave a hand to Mikhail, who leaves with Aleksandr. Elena remains standing still by the door.

  “Sit,” I order, but she doesn’t move. She hugs herself tightly and raises her chin.

  “I’m good here.”

  The air thickens with her anxiety as I get up and make my way over to her. I expect her to flinch, but she doesn’t. She remains calm and collected.

  I circle her, enjoying the sight of her as I devour her, inch by inch.

  “I have a proposition to make,” she breathes out the words.

  I stand behind her and bring my lips to her ear, the gentle rasp of my breathing teasing her skin, and she flinches when my lips touch her earlobe. The movement sends an icy chill shivering down my spine.

  “What is it?” I whisper in her ear.

  “I don’t want to be in the west wing anymore.” Her voice is low, almost a whisper. I can smell the fear she’s desperately trying to cover up. I frown and move to stand in front of her. She peeks up at me through her eyelashes and my cock jumps out eagerly in my pants. Her eyes are clouded with her own desire. I begin to feel it again. That unexplainable, strange connection between us. I force that cold sensation of dominance and control to return and she takes a step back. She must have read it in my eyes.

  “I hate that room. It’s cold and miserable and”⁠—a hint of sadness flashes in her eyes and she looks down at her feet⁠—“it reminds me of things I don’t want to be reminded of.”

  She looks up again at me with puppy eyes.

  “I’m not gonna be able to run away even if I wanted to. Your men are in every single corner. Watching me with piercing eyes like I’m their prey.”

  “That’s good. That means I won’t have to fire them if they’re doing their job properly.”

  I smirk and enjoy the sight of her nostrils as they flare in annoyance. She crosses her arms over her chest.

  “Everyone hates me in here. I know I’m not wanted because I’m a Romano. But it’s not my fault that you decided to kidnap and keep me in your house, is it?” she asks, her voice high and shaky.

  I frown at her words and reach for her dirty blond hair. I run my fingers through the soft strands. Raw desire pulses in my heated blood as her breathing gets more labored.

  “Did anyone say anything to you?” I ask softly.

  “No,” she breathes and swallows thickly as I lower my hand to her breasts. She doesn’t move or push my hand away like I expect her to. She bites her bottom lip and a sudden rush of blood to my cock makes it pulse and harden even more than it already is. My eyes drop to her lush lips and the beast inside me roars with lust, making me wanna bite her and draw blood so I can savor the taste of it. Her lips part slightly, inviting me in. I lean down and bring my lips closer to hers so I can take possession of her mouth when suddenly, the door swings open savagely, making her jump and release a soft gasp.

  “You need to come and see this.” Aleksandr’s serious tone makes me frown in wonder of what could possibly be happening that needs my immediate attention.

  I nod slightly at him right before he disappears.

  I look down at Elena, whose eyes are wide and full of eagerness.

  “I’ll think about it. Go and see Yeva for now.” I fight the urge to grip the nape of her neck and devour her lips. But whatever Aleksandr wants me to see needs my absolute attention.

  She turns around and leaves without saying another word. I allow my eyes to travel up and down her body as I enjoy the sight of her forgiving curves. I will worship every single inch of her body later on. Tonight, I plan on taking her. I will fuck her raw and with complete ruthlessness until she writhes underneath me. The image makes me wish I could skip to that moment already, but business is calling out for me.

  I walk into the garage and see Mikhail, Aleksandr, and others standing over a brown cardboard box. I approach it and peek inside. I scowl at the sight of the severed head in the box and look over at Aleksandr.

  “Whose head is this?” I ask calmly.

  “James Miller. We hired him a week ago.”

  “And how did this get here?” I turn my attention on Mikhail.

  “Someone left it next to the front gate. The men are checking the cameras as we speak.”

  “We believe it’s a message from the lord who initially purchased the girl,” Aleksandr explains and I can already see where this is going. His nostrils flare and he crosses his arms over his chest.

  I ignore him and turn my attention back to Mikhail.

  “Get rid of this.”

  I leave the garage and step back into the house. I ball my fists as I hear Aleksandr’s footsteps following me.

  “How many more men are we gonna lose for your pretty little girl?” he mocks.

  I swirl around and swing my arm at him, but he ducks, dodging the punch.

  “Don’t fucking go there again,” I hiss.

  “It’s too fucking late anyway. Even if you give her back now, the war has already started. So you better come up with a genius plan to get us out of this shit.”

  He storms out of the house and my eyes watch him furiously. I have a plan. It might either destroy us or make us stronger than ever. The day I saw her I knew I had to keep her. I wasn’t going to let her go, sell her, or get her trained or anything like that. That used to be my father’s business. Not mine. And I don’t know which one is worse⁠—trading slaves or wanting to have one for myself.

  I fight the thought as I make my way to the kitchen. The need to scream, hit, kick, and break everything I can get my hands on crawls beneath my skin. Before she showed up, I was the coolest, cold-hearted motherfucker you’d ever meet. Now all I wanna do is destroy and break shit on a daily basis. My anger hasn’t calmed down and I don’t think it will until I fuck her mercilessly and watch her writhe beneath me.

  I find Alyona and Jones chatting over coffee in the kitchen. They both stand up when they see me at the door. Their eyes widen and I know it must be because of the fury that’s flashing through my eyes.

  “Where is she?” I ask, a new kind of tension overpowering my voice.

  “She’s with Yeva, sir,” Jones blurts out.

  “Find her and bring
her to the old training room.”

  His eyes widen, but all he does is nod his approval. They must think I’m back in the slave trading business after years of fighting to get out of it. But I don’t owe anybody an explanation. I follow the beast inside and let it guide me to wherever it wants to go. Whoever it wants to feed on. And it chose her.

  I take the stairs up to the room I despised for years. The room I stayed the fuck away from because of my temptation and craving for whatever happened behind its closed doors. I never even thought of walking into this room, but here I am, standing in the middle of the one room that I swore I’d never step into.

  Elena

  “Sir wants you upstairs.” Are the only words that slip out of Mr. Jones’s lips as he guides me upstairs, hurling me toward the unknown.

  “Can you please tell me where we’re going?” I manage to let the words out, but they come out breathy, almost soundless.

  He breathes a heavy sigh and cocks an eyebrow at me. I turn my face around and struggle to follow his steps with my shaky legs. I swallow thickly and close my eyes for a brief moment.

  Get it together! I tell myself as I force my chin up and look straight ahead. Whatever it is Maksim wants me for, it cannot be as horrible as I might be thinking. After all, if he wanted to kill me, he would have done it a long time ago, but he needs me alive. For whatever reason that I happen to know nothing about.

  We stand in front of a room in the end of the dim hallway in the second level of the big house. My heart lodges in my throat and I can hear hot blood rushing through my veins at the thought of whatever is behind this door.

  My new room maybe? I let the thought sink in as I struggle to gather enough energy to stay on my feet.

  Mr. Jones knocks twice on the door and my breathing comes to a halt when I hear the man’s voice coming from inside the room.

  “Enter,” Maksim says coolly.

  Mr. Jones opens the door and I step inside with my eyes closed. Why am I panicking? Why do I feel like whatever is in this room will bring the end of me?

  I don’t realize how long I have kept my eyes closed until I start feeling his breath, a warm breeze against my flesh.

  “Open your eyes,” he whispers and I instantly open them wide.

  Silence, fear, and confusion all jumble up inside of me as I stare at the big, wide room. A king-sized bed sitting in the middle of it, and the view through the vast windows is mesmerizing. But as I look around me I don’t locate anything that could harm me. If anything, this room is warm and cozy compared to the other one in the west wing.

  “Why am I here?” I manage to ask through a shaky breath.

  He stops in front of me and looks down at me. His body’s heat radiates through him, and his eyes, as I stare at them, blaze a dark fire I’ve never seen in him before.

  “This is your new room.”

  “My new room?”

  He doesn’t say anything back. Just watches me intently. I should bite my tongue in order to not ask the question that’s on my mind because I could be punished hard for it. But I let it out anyway.

  “What’s the west wing for? What’s in all the other rooms?”

  “They’re all empty,” he says simply.

  “Why?”

  “You’re asking too many questions today,” he says hoarsely as he runs his fingers through my hair, stroking it. The movement doesn’t make me flinch this time, but instead, a shiver runs down my spine. I hate my body’s reaction to him.

  “We used to train slaves there. Long time ago.”

  I take a step backward as his words feel like a knife to my chest. Feeling a flash of irritation, I gape at him. I didn’t expect this horrific answer.

  “Surprised?”

  He must notice my shaking body as I take more steps backward until my back reaches the cold wall behind me.

  He moves slowly toward me and that’s when my whole body goes numb. My brain searches desperately for its safety net, but to no avail.

  He slams both of his hands against the wall behind me, boxing me in. A rush of heat leaps upon the fire that’s igniting low in my abdomen. He’s doing it over again, turning my whole body against me. His tongue comes out, licking his lips. His eyes devour every inch of my body. He leans in and takes my mouth. His lips collide and bruise mine, hard. His hand travels down my body. I let him feast on everything that I am. His massive erection presses against my stomach and it makes my thighs squeeze with the arousal that’s in between them. I curse at myself silently at how bad I am enjoying this.

  He grabs both of my wrists and holds them up on top of my head. He doesn’t remove his gaze off me as he reaches for his left pocket and pulls out handcuffs. My eyes widen and before I fight to free myself from his grip, my wrists are shackled high above my head within a matter of seconds. My heart fills with anxiety as he walks away from me and slides the closet door open. He stands there, staring at it for a moment, then comes back with his hands empty.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, struggling to free myself, but it’s all futile. My heels hover above the floor.

  He presses his hard body against mine and whispers against my mouth, “Why were you sold?”

  I swallow thickly as my nostrils flare at his words. I didn’t expect this. And telling him about my life and what I’ve been through is too personal for me. He doesn’t deserve to know anything.

  “Fuck you,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

  He half-smiles and looks down at his feet while nodding slowly. I wait for him to make his next move. Even if it means punching me in the gut. Maybe I’d pass out. Oh God, it would be amazing. I’d rather pass out than allow him to know anything about my past. I begin to breathe even faster than before as he stands tall and still in front of me. Hopefully my lungs can work the magic of sending me into an unconscious state. He lifts his chin up and narrows his eyes at me.

  “I see what you’re doing. Don’t try to run away by passing out because I will revive you.” He pauses. “And I don’t think you’ll like how I’m gonna do it.”

  How is he able to read me? I close my eyes and take deep breaths in.

  “Why were you sold?” he asks hoarsely and I open my eyes slowly and gaze at him. There’s no winning with this man. No matter how hard I try to escape him mentally, I always end up failing miserably.

  Silence fills the room as the loud sound of my beating heart pounds harshly in my ears.

  “You can either make this easier for you by answering the question, or I’ll have to use other methods.”

  His eyes gleam as he says the words. What other methods? I don’t know and the thought is making me shiver with fear. Every hair on my body stands up. But I can’t talk about my past. I’ve never spoken about it to anybody before. So I remain silent and await my punishment.

  “I see.” He sighs and takes a step toward me. He reaches for my shirt and rips it open with his bare hands. He continues ripping the material until pieces of it fall to the ground. He then removes my leggings by sliding them gently down my legs. The movement makes my heart beat even harder and ignites a fire between my thighs. I have gotten so used to my body reacting to him the way it does. He can own my body, but he will never own my soul.

  He walks back to the closet and takes a dark brown whip out of it. My wrists instantly begin to struggle against the cuffs. His cold gaze never leaves me as he walks slowly toward me. I swallow thickly and manage to speak.

  “You sick bastard. You can’t use that on me,” I breathe the words as the tears that burned the back of my throat a moment ago decide to seep down my cheeks like a waterfall.

  “Can’t I?” he asks with a cocked brow and a smirk on his lips. Fuck him! Of course he can do whatever he wants to me. I’m bound and helpless and fighting him never gets me anywhere. I close my eyes and breathe heavily as my mind searches desperately for an escape. His big hands suddenly hug my waist and he turns me around until I’m facing the cold wall that was digging into my back just a moment ago.

&nb
sp; “I didn’t wanna go down this road, but you’re not making this easier on yourself,” he murmurs as he trails a finger down my spine. Damn him and the tiny shivers of arousal that travel down to the pulsing heat between my thighs. How can my body still betray me by reacting to his touch despite knowing he’s about to whip me and make me regret the day I was born?

  I suck in a breath and wait for my punishment. I feel the lash of a whip across my lower back, but the stinging pain is not enough to make me cry and submit to him. Another whip comes down again on the same spot, but this time it contains twice the fire of the last one.

  “Stop this. Please.” I howl in pain as the lashes keep coming one after the other without even giving me time to breathe and prepare myself for the next one.

  “I don’t know why he sold me,” I cry out as hot tears make my vision blurry. Two more whips come down and I can barely take the pain anymore.

  Unforgiving and brutal, my knees give out and my whole body begins to shake. I’ve never experienced such humiliation before. Death would have been better than this.

  “I was locked up in a room. I didn’t know anything about the outside world besides when I read books and watched TV from time to time,” I say softly as I begin to withdraw mentally away from him. He stops whipping me and all I can hear is the loud sound of his breathing getting more pronounced as seconds tick by. He turns me around again until I am facing him. The cold wall behind me bites into my flesh and I wince in pain.

  “What do you mean?” he asks harshly.

  I shake my head slowly as I begin to feel dazed. I try to focus on his gleaming, furious eyes, but I know I will be knocked unconscious any second now.

  “I told you, Maksim. My uncle won’t care if you hurt me.” My eyes shut as I hear the pounding of my heart loud in my ear. I force myself to say the last words that I want so desperately to tell him before oblivion takes over again.

  “Please . . . Kill me.”