“Don’t ever think you can touch me without paying. It comes with a price and you can’t afford it, you fucking scum.” I spat on him, kicking dirt over his groaning body. And I want everyone to know.
I knew I’d been stalked. I’d taken precautions but not enough. Deliberately. “Touch me again and I’ll send you straight to hell.”
A strike landed on the base of my skull. I stumbled forward, cursing the rush of sickness and pounding headache. At least I didn’t have a migraine. A migraine only came when I tried to rein in the evilness inside.
Tonight I was free. I’d let my humanity go the moment I said goodbye to Tess.
My muscles seized as a gun bruised my spine. “Move, cocksucker.” Someone shoved me forward, giving me no choice but to limp ahead with my vision sputtering in and out from the blow to my skull.
The house loomed. I knew without a doubt if I went in there I wouldn’t be coming out. But there was no other option.
Trust them. Franco knows what to do. Franco had a to-do list and he would get it done.
My wrists rubbed together, searching for the hard node beneath my skin. It’d hurt like a motherfucker having it inserted. A small tracking device fully equipped with GPS, different frequencies, and indefinite lifecycle. I’d had the same doctor who’d tended to Tess insert it the morning I got her home.
At the time, I thought I’d gone overboard with precaution, but now I thanked my foresight. This would’ve happened regardless—I’d pissed off too many people to think I wouldn’t suffer. But I would use it to my advantage. I intended to make an example of them. Slaughter their entire business—send a message to the remaining cocksuckers out there that I wasn’t weak. That I wouldn’t be killed easily. Lynx would be my announcement to anyone stupid enough to come for me. They would know exactly what I would do to trespassers.
I just had to stay alive long enough for back-up to arrive.
The asshole wielding the gun in my spine pushed hard.
I snapped.
Splaying my legs for balance, I spun around, slapping the gun away. The heavy weapon clattered to the driveway.
The guy’s nostrils flared as he bent to pick it up.
Kick. Kill.
My leg twitched, and I couldn’t stop the urge. My muscles bunched; the tip of my black dress-shoe connected with the underside of his chin. His head snapped backward, sending him sprawling to the irregular stonework of the driveway.
Blood instantly flowed from his mouth, eyes flickering closed.
“For fuck’s sake—get Mercer inside!” The leader stalked toward me.
Instead of standing still, waiting for punishment, I prowled forward, pushing my taller form against his in a blatant threat. “I’m capable of stepping into a house on my own accord. I don’t trust you and your fucking imbeciles with guns.” Muttering under my breath, I said, “Tu as environ six heures à vivre. Vis les pleinement.” You have about six hours to live. Enjoy them wisely.
Not waiting for a reply, I headed toward the entrance.
Once again, I pressed the hard node under my skin. A small smidgen of relief soothed my anger. I calculated how long it would take a rescue party to turn up. If Franco had put the plan into effect before they took me, it would be anywhere from six to eight hours before the team would be mobile and on Lynx’s doorstep.
I’ll go with six hours.
Six hours to keep Lynx talking and away from any particularly life threatening tools.
Raising my bound hands, I knocked on the old-fashioned stain-glass door. The glass depicted a bare forest—tree skeletons in burnt oranges, browns, and blacks.
A memory of coming here thirteen months ago to collect a slave filled my mind—the games I played. The role I embraced of sadistic master buying a woman as if it was a normal transaction.
My heart sped up as the door swung open. I kept my features blank. Disdain dripped from every pour, no longer hiding how much I fucking hated the retard in front of me.
Lynx smiled, his tanned skin gleaming against the dark red of his suit. A black mandarin shirt, coupled with bright crimson shoes, made him look fucking ridiculous. His hair was the usual black mohawk, gelled into submission, while the shorter sides mirrored the same dark red of his trousers and blazer.
“Going on a date, Dante?” I raised an eyebrow. “Dressed like that I’d say you’re fishing for cock not pussy.” He wasn’t gay—just a fucking tosser trying way too hard.
Lynx pursed his lips. He hated that I knew his real name. Dante Emestro. When he’d contacted me five years ago, asking for help with planning permission for an illegal racetrack in a low density area, I’d done my usual background checks. I’d jangled every skeleton, knew every torrid secret. I also knew he’d sold his sister when he turned eighteen, all to gain access to the underbelly of trafficking.
Nasty piece of shit.
His black, soulless eyes glanced at my ruined dinner attire. A smile spread his lips, no doubt taking in the swelling of my face and the multitude of bruises sustained from the journey. “You better thank your fucking stars I’m not gay, Mercer. Or tonight might’ve ended in a completely different way for you.” He licked his lips. “However, I could add something along those lines to the activities if you wish?” He had no facial hair apart from a ridiculous chin strap. I would happily carve it from his face and shove it in his mouth for such a comment.
“I’d be careful, Dante. Don’t want another curse added to your reputation.”
“What other curse?”
I shrugged. “The curse you’ve brought upon yourself by bringing me here against my will.” I leaned closer, noticing he looked older than his thirty-one years—mainly thanks to cocaine abuse. “I plan on killing you tonight. You’re my trophy to show other cunts like you that I’m not going to put up with turf wars or killings.”
He laughed loudly. “You plan on killing me? I think you have it the wrong way around, Mercer.” Losing his mirth, he snapped, “You’re a fucking fake. And I don’t play well with fakes.” Looking over my shoulder, he ordered, “Help bring Mr. high and mighty Mercer inside.”
A kick landed on my lower back, sending me careening forward. With my hands bound, I couldn’t keep my balance and sprawled at his feet. My thigh screamed as the wound sent more blood seeping. A steel-capped boot crunched against the back of my leg, smashing my kneecap into the stone floor.
Fuck! I wanted to howl. But I didn’t. I ate the pain. Devouring it just like I would him.
But I couldn’t kill him—not yet. I had no way of winning against his crew. My only chance was to drag this out until support arrived. I wouldn’t sacrifice myself—not now I had so much to live for.
Tess. Shit, her scent filled my nose. Her cries echoed in my ears. I would see her again. I will.
A foot kicked my jaw. “Payback, asswipe.” A river of blood ran down my throat—I’d bitten my tongue. I kept my lips smashed together. The agony fed my anger, wreaking havoc on my nervous system.
“Alright, enough. I need him conscious for the rest. Pick him up,” Lynx snapped.
Wrath built faster. I warmed my hands by its licking flames. Patience. Fucking patience.
Two men hoisted me under my arms, dragging me upright. My eyes latched onto the closing door. The moment it locked, I mentally began a countdown.
Six hours and counting.
Don’t do anything reckless. Keep him talking. Stay alive.
I had a fucking wedding to go to tomorrow.
Shrugging off the men, I stood tall, taking in the foyer. The typical signs of drugs, weapons, and broken women were prevalent.
“Like my latest editions, Mercer?” Dante pointed at two girls crawling into the entrance hall wearing nothing but a collar and pair of crotchless knickers. Their eyes were down, their skin pale.
My hands curled. Purple bruises marked their ribcages, yellow stains of old abuse, and malnourishment glazed their eyes.
I doubted they’d been there for long but already they existed in
a grave, waiting for their soul to give up so they could be free.
“They’ll be mine by the end of the evening.” I already pictured the tenderness of Mrs. Sucre feeding them and the friendship of Suzette putting them back together. And Tess. She would be there—my queen—the woman who glued every part of me into a better human being.
Dante smiled—it was cold, malicious, and if I hadn’t dealt with bastards like him all my life, I would’ve shit myself. But I had. I no longer felt their evil. I absorbed it—waiting till I could boomerang it back, making them suffer.
I liked to think they’d invited the grim reaper into their home.
“So proud. You won’t be walking away with any of my merchandise, Mercer.” Dante laughed. “Your pride on the other hand will be a worthwhile acquisition.” Striding past the two collared girls, he kicked one in the thigh. “This way. We’ll have a chat before we begin business.”
My hands almost broke I fisted so hard.
The girls never raised their eyes, instantly following, crawling into the room off the foyer. The walls were bare of any artwork or personality, painted in garish reds and golds with black carpeting.
It was all one level—a sprawled out estate ensuring rooms were far enough away from the business hub so prospective buyers weren’t distracted by other women’s screams or the growls of rutting animals.
Following, as if this wasn’t the end of my life and just a normal business meeting, I passed through the familiar double doors and into a large lounge. A huge painting of a gun dripping red hung above a fake fireplace with melted candles. The room had three semi-circle couches, all with a small podium and pole bolted into the ceiling before them.
The perfect viewing for pricks and paedophiles.
Lynx sat down, patting the red leather beside him. I winced at the aches in my bones, taking a seat on the end of the couch. My thigh still bled, but I had nothing to wrap it with. I needed to put pressure on the wound—stop any more blood loss.
Hiding my pain, I linked my hands between my legs. “The welcome committee isn’t needed. I don’t want to watch any of your sick fetishes.” He’d made me watch the first time, and I’d yet to burn the image from my retinas. The girl had been one I hadn’t been able to save. She’d died that night from what he did.
Dante threw his head back, chuckling as if I were a world-renowned comedian. “Always such a fucking prude.” Waggling his finger in my direction, he added, “I know you’re not, Mercer. I’ve heard the rumours. Paying women to do tame things in relation to what you could do to a girl you own.” He shook his head. “I think it’s time you stopped lying to everyone—including yourself—and give in.”
Snapping his fingers, the man who’d squeezed Tess’s breast and put a gun to her head appeared. Grabbing one of the girls from the floor, he threw her onto the podium in front of us.
Her face contorted as the pole slammed against her hip. Her hands slinked around the silver structure, eyes downcast and lost.
A rush of bile threatened to fill my mouth—bile filled with blood and the need to butcher everyone here. No one deserved to live. They deserved to be chopped up, turned into worm food, and eventually reincarnated as bird shit.
Bird.
My eyes locked on the black-haired slave, stretching her atrophied muscles, bending around the pole. Her ribs stuck out, breasts were small with large prominent nipples, and she had no hair between her legs—showing bite marks on her inner thighs and a piercing through her clit with a small chain leading to a piece of jewellery wrapped around her waist.
Her eyes met mine briefly. There was nothing left but hatred and contempt.
Looking away, she gyrated on the pole, flowing like a broken girl rather than a sensual mistress.
Five hours and fifty-five minutes.
Lynx leaned back, eyes glued to the girl. He snapped his fingers again, summoning the other slave to go to him. She crawled over, keeping her head low, showing the beads of her spine. Her brown hair was cropped to her skull, highlighting shadows of fingers around her throat and multiple ear piercings. She was the curvier of the two but still looked unhealthy.
Fucking animals.
The girl positioned herself between Lynx’s legs, reaching to his fly without a word. He arched his hips for the girl to unbuckle his trousers, sighing deeply as she pulled out his bent, foul erection.
It took all my willpower to stay sitting and not throw myself at him. Four guards loomed around me—two in front, two behind. I couldn’t do a thing as the girl spat on her hand, smearing her saliva over his cock and stroking him.
“Suck it.” He grabbed the back of her neck, bringing her face to crash against his crotch.
Her mouth opened, swallowing his putrid length with no complaint.
His eyes rolled back, groaning as her cheeks hollowed, sucking him hard. “Yes, that’s it. Suck. Suck.” He shuddered as her lips opened wide, swallowing his entire length. He forced her even further, suffocating her against his pubic hair, holding her until she struggled for breath.
“Stop. It,” I growled, echoing with darkness.
“I’d let you do anything, Q. Because I love you.” Tess’s voice whispered in my mind. Images of burning her with red wax sickened and excited me.
The room smelled of sex, feeding my sick senses with increasing lust.
Something other than anger lived in my blood now. Something twisting and tempting and entirely wrong. I had to get out of there. I had to run. Or kill. Both preferably.
Lynx opened his eyes, piercing me with his black gaze. “You don’t tell me what to do.” To prove his point, he hit the girl on her shoulder. She moaned, tears welling, mixing with the glistening saliva on his cock. “She’s mine to do with as I wish. I’m fucking God to her. And you’re a sad excuse of a prick who denies his own needs.” His hips twitched, pushing himself further into the slave’s mouth. “You want this—just admit it and tonight could go a completely different way.”
Fuck. No moisture remained in my mouth. My heart turned into a wildebeest galloping to its death.
Locking my fingers together, I snarled, “Let’s cut the bullshit, Dante. You know I never used. I bought from you and what I did with them is none of your fucking business. I gave you what you asked in return. How many buildings did I help you with? Four? Five? Stop being an asshole, and I won’t kill you.”
Lynx laughed, his hand on the bobbing head of the girl blowing him. “See—all stinking lies. You want this. You want the control. The power. Admit it.”
My eyes fell on the girl.
I sank deep into Tess’s mouth, fucking her lips while she hung upside down. I’d never felt anything as good as driving into her throat while she was completely unable to stop me. I groaned as the orgasm I denied forced one thick wave onto her tongue.
Shit.
My fucking body betrayed me. My cock thickened. Don’t think about Tess. She’d loved taking me. She’d wanted it. Unlike the poor girl blowing Dante.
Don’t confuse the two.
Forcing Tess out of my thoughts, I muttered, “Without me, you wouldn’t have the wealth you do. Spare me the cock-swinging contest.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re such a French idiot. You’re in denial.” Grabbing the girl’s ears, he shoved himself deeper. Her back convulsed with a gag reflex.
He slapped her. “You don’t gag, bitch.”
She nodded, resuming her task as if the glowing handprint on her cheek wasn’t burning.
I stood, towering over him, cursing my semi, hating the betrayal of my body. “Do that again and I’ll—”
“Shut the hell up.” Two men pressed on my shoulders, shoving me back onto the couch. My leg gave out, thanks to the weakness of being fucking shot.
I balled my hands. “It’s not denial. I don’t have to partake—just like I don’t use drugs or gamble. Stop trying to convert me. Let her go and let’s get down to fucking business.”
Whatever that was.
“Q, you’re not
a monster. I know the truth.” I squeezed my eyes, trying so hard not to let Tess into my mind. Not here. I wouldn’t taint her memories.
My eyes fell on the upside down girl on the pole. Her legs were spread, showing me every crease and fold of her abused pussy.
My cock throbbed. Fuck! Overwhelming pressure built behind my eyes. I wanted to leave before the sickness inside could grow stronger. I would gladly walk to my torture if it meant retaining my morals and decency.
A moment ago I didn’t want to think about Tess. Now I did. Think of her in their place—being so badly used. You’d hate it.
My semi turned into a full-blown fucking erection.
I’d hate it but love it.
Tess spread-eagled on a pole. Her hair wrapped in my fingers as I forced myself inside her mouth. Her moans and pants and cries.
Shit. I couldn’t think about anything without it lacerating everything good I tried to retain.
I scrubbed my face.
Lies.
I fucking judge you. I’m your executioner.
Five hours and forty minutes.
“I heard a rumour, Mercer. About the sparrows you seem to have on every logo and possession.”
I struggled to keep my face impassive. How the fuck did that piece of information get out?
Reclining in the seat, I did my best to ignore my cock, focusing on buying time for Franco and his team. “Oh? And what do they say?”
Lynx thrust his hips, his body shuddering as the girl sucked harder.
I averted my eyes. His mind games were about to get worse. I was sure of it.
Dante’s voice was lust-laden and scratchy. “That it symbolises women you’ve saved. That you think you’re a fucking hero.”
Shit. Damn news reporters and invasion of my privacy. The sparrow was a relic to me—now they’d tarnished it, brought it into the filth I lived in. “I’m not a hero.”
Where the fuck is he going with this?
“I also heard you did use one of the slaves you bought.” His eyebrow quirked. “A girl from Mexico—Red Wolverine gave her to you.”
Monsters in the Dark Page 104
