Falling forward, Daederich let out a weak growl. “You bitch, you—”
“You’re welcome, Dae—no, I think I’ll call you Joe. Daederich is such a mouthful.” She glanced over as the lock clicked and the door opened. “Trevor, I’m so close, but I’m losing strength. Help me come.”
The man with the long hair smirked and joined her on the bed, using his fingers on her clit and an arm around her waist to bring her to climax. He pulled her off Elah and held her as she continued to shudder in ecstasy.
Elah still hadn’t moved. Daederich could do no more than drag himself a foot across the floor. Not nearly enough to stop them as Trevor carefully rested Rosali on the bed and the second man joined him beside Elah’s prone body with a solid metal glove in his hand.
Trevor opened the glove, revealing sharp spikes within. The second man leaned on Elah while Trevor placed Elah’s hand on the open contraption. Elah twisted weakly as the glove was closed over his hand. Blood spilled down his wrist.
There was a clip to keep the glove closed, but apparently, that wasn’t enough. Trevor took three long, thick screws out of his pocket, along with a screwdriver. One at a time, he screwed them into the base of the glove, straight through the bones of Elah’s wrist.
Breathing hard, shuddering, Elah stared at his hand. He’d paled with the pain, but hadn’t made a sound. He dropped his head to the side to meet Rosali’s eyes. “Why are you doing this?”
She let out a tired sigh, snuggling up to Trevor as he sat beside her. “One does not take a hunter as a pet without crippling them. You’re much too unpredictable.”
Daederich bared his teeth, though he was certain he didn’t look very threatening on the floor. “And I’m not?”
Rosali giggled and slid to the edge of the bed, reaching down to trail her fingers across his cheek. “You’re just a baby. We got you a collar because they look so good on you. Won’t take long to make you into a good dog.”
The second man knelt beside Daederich and slipped a thick collar around his neck. There was a small box attached to the collar—it was a shock collar, Daederich was fairly certain.
No need to test it just yet.
“See, he’s learning already.” Rosali continued to stroke his cheek. “Good boy.”
Daederich felt the last of his strength leave him as darkness took his vision. He had a feeling being Rosali’s ‘pets’ would be no different than being Cyrus’s main act had been. But it was still Lydia’s fate that concerned him. Perhaps being Cyrus’s victim had twisted Rosali, but she might have sympathy for another woman. Might still find a way to free her.
Abandoning his pride, he forced his eyes opened and whispered. “Do what you will to us, but I beg you. Find Lydia. Don’t let her suffer any longer.”
Rosali traced a finger over his lips. “Don’t worry, Joe. Cyrus won’t have her for long.” She smiled as she rested her head on Trevor’s lap. “I made Cyrus into a monster and he belongs to me. I won’t let her come between us again.”
Chapter Three
For two days, I slept in the comfortable bed, protected from the sun by thick black curtains. During the night I explored the room, going no further even though the door was unlocked. I knew it was a test. If I opened the door, things would change.
Inside the room, there was a TV on one wall, the bed, and a bookshelf filled with classic books. I wasted a few hours reading the Shakespeare collection, thinking of how Daederich had told me the stories when I’d been wounded, putting an interesting twist on them just to make me smile. I watched TV, sticking to mindless sitcoms because I didn’t want to see violence. I’d be living through it all too soon.
The peace was unsettling. Both nights were frightening, because Cyrus didn’t touch me. Which should have been a good thing, but instead confused me. I was prepared for him to hurt me. To use me. Instead, he’d given me clothes to wear—and brought clean ones when he came into the room to let me drink from his veins.
I had nothing to say to him and he didn’t seem to have a problem with that. He came into the room silently, bared his wrist each time, then left without a word.
On the third night, I licked his blood from my lips and glared at him. “If you think you’re going to fuck with my head, you’ll be disappointed. I came to you willingly to spare Daederich’s son. I won’t try to escape.”
His lips curved slightly. “Good to know. Sleep well, Lydia.”
Irritated, and not quite sure why, I latched onto his wrist before he could move away from me. “What are you playing at?”
“What do you mean?”
“You haven’t hurt me, and we both know how much you enjoy watching me bleed. You haven’t fucked me for days.” Not that I minded, but all that wasted energy being constantly on edge seemed pointless now. “You can’t be satisfied simply having me here. What do you want?”
He leaned against the closed door, his lips curved to one side. “Perhaps I’m waiting to see what you want, Lydia. You’re filthy and I have the option of clean, pretty girls to play with. The door is never locked, but you don’t try to leave. To be honest, you’re boring me. I expected something of a challenge. Something worthy of what I traded you for, because the boy would have made my life interesting. I could have spent my time teaching him to be ruthless. Toyed with him as he grew into a man.” He let out a weary sigh. “Instead, I have you.”
“Too late for regrets now.” I hated hearing him talk about Alrik. Daederich’s son was safe. But he hadn’t been. I could do no more for the boy than what I’d done, but I prayed Vince and Nicole could give him a new life. Help him forget and keep him safe. “You accepted the trade.”
“What if I’ve changed my mind? What if I want him back?”
“You can’t—”
Cyrus reached into the back pocket of his jeans and tossed a pile of photos on the bed in front of me. Each one showed Alrik with Vince and Nicole. Some on a ship, others in what appeared to be a rainforest. Alrik seemed so happy and the couple was always close, looking at him like he was precious to them. Everything Daederich and I had wanted for him.
Every moment caught by one of Cyrus’s people. I’d sacrificed my life to save the boy, but Cyrus had just proved he could reclaim him on a whim. And my indifference was only giving him more reason to do so.
“Tell me what you want.” My hands shook as I gathered the photos. I wanted to hide them, but that wouldn’t change a thing. Alrik would always be at Cyrus’s mercy.
Gently putting his hand over mine, Cyrus met my eyes and pulled me to my feet. He drew me toward the door, shaking his head when I tried to resist. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt I could handle anything he did to me in here. Beyond that door was uncertainty, and that was already messing with my head. He could bring me back to the basement. Bring me somewhere new where there would be tools of torture, or other people, or…
He brought me down the hall, releasing me as he stepped into a room that turned out to be a bathroom. Not just any bathroom. But this was Cyrus’s home, why would he have anything ordinary?
This was a new level of decadence. The house itself was fairly modest, from what I’d seen, but this bathroom belonged in a mansion. The tiles, the sinks, and the bath were all sandstone, smooth and beautiful, the sinks smaller versions of the bowl-shaped bath. There were no windows, but the room was brightly lit with recessed lighting in the ceiling. And heated by a fire burning in a hearth large enough for a man of Daederich’s size to stand in.
All beige and light brown, the room had a soothing quality. I looked around while Cyrus drew a bath, adding oils to the water that filled the room with the scent of vanilla and sweet almond. He motioned me over to him and I went without hesitation.
It would be a long time before I forgot those pictures.
“You’ll enjoy this more if you take off your clothes.” His tone was teasing, but I wasn’t stupid enough to take that as a suggestion. If he was going to pretend to be nice, I’d go with it. Who knew how long it would take before
he got bored of the act and went back to being a cruel, sadistic bastard.
Modesty would be silly after everything, so I quickly pulled off the black t-shirt and jeans, then shed the plain underthings. He arched a brow when I stopped beside the bath, gesturing carelessly with his hand for me to get in.
The water was just on the verge of being too hot, which felt amazing as I sank all the way in, biting back a moan as my stiff muscles loosened. I cupped my hands in the water and brought it to my face, cleaning away the grime.
The brush of Cyrus’s fingers across my shoulder stilled me. I swallowed as he lifted my wet hair off my neck. He clucked his tongue and pulled an extendable showerhead from beside the taps, adjusting the temperature before using it to rinse my hair.
“Your hair needs to be washed. You won’t object to me pampering you a bit?”
I shook my head. There was no way to answer without a bite of sarcasm in my tone. He’d effectively shown me what denying him anything would accomplish. I sat up as he turned off the spray, then watched him as he crossed the room, returning with a bottle of shampoo and conditioner. Expensive stuff with the aroma of exotic flowers.
Not something I’d normally use, but I could deal with smelling pretty. I relaxed as Cyrus massaged my scalp, taking his time working the suds through my hair. His fingers pressed into the muscles at the nape of my neck and I had to bite my bottom lip hard to keep from letting out a sound of pleasure. I closed my eyes, just enjoying the sensation, convincing myself there was nothing wrong with a little indulgence before things went bad.
The spray came again. Conditioner. He let me soak for a bit, then handed me a facecloth and body wash. I kept my gaze down as I scrubbed my body, feeling his eyes on me. The tension had returned. Once I was clean, he wouldn’t be quite so repelled. Which I’d expected, but this was different than the other times. Being taken brutally in a cell, or on a dirt floor—hell, even in his bed when I was still healing from burns he’d caused—that was the norm. I’d never been a ‘pampered’ pet. Part of me had always been fighting and one could see that just looking at me.
He held out a big, fluffy towel, waiting patiently as I drained the water and rinsed off. After I stepped out of the bath, he let me wrap the towel around myself and turned to lead the way out. Down the hall to yet another room.
This one was his. It was huge, with an antique Tudor bed and matching dressers and end tables. Black and red silk everywhere. Real bearskin rugs on the floor, a black one by the fireplace, and white one by the bed.
I’d have been disgusted about the floor if I wasn’t secretly relieved it wasn’t human flesh instead. With him, one never knew.
He snorted and I jumped, glancing over at him. He shook his head and patted the bed beside him. “The things you think of me. I’m less of a monster than you imagine, Lydia.”
Doubtful. Wetting my lips, I approached him, perching right on the edge of the bed beside him like I’d leap out of reach if he touched me, even though we both knew I wouldn’t move. I held my breath when he put his hand on my knee. My whole body shook as he reached over and tugged the towel so it fell away from my naked body.
He pressed a finger to the center of my chest. “Lie back.”
Deep, deep breath, hands fisted by my sides, I did as I was told. Staring at the wall, I steeled myself as he climbed over me. Hissed in air through my teeth when his hand framed my jaw and he forced me to look at him.
“My pretty pet. Don’t you see how much better things can be when you’re not fighting me?”
Tears sheened my vision, but I didn’t blink, so they never fell. This was my life until I could find my way to freedom. He would fuck me. I’d fall apart, then put myself back together before he even noticed the damage he’d done. Bent, not broken. Never broken. I was too strong for him to break.
He kissed the corner of my lips, letting out a soft sound of pleasure. “I certainly hope so.”
His weight shifted as he stood, leaving me lying on the bed naked as though he’d lost interest. I put my hand over my mouth to hide my sob of relief when I saw him slip into his closet. Wrapped the towel around me quickly. By the time he came out, I was calm again. Guarding my thoughts since he’d proven again and again that he could read me far too easily.
In his hand was a simple, white dress. My brow furrowed as I looked it over. It wasn’t one a bride would wear. And it wasn’t childlike. With thick shoulder straps and a knee length skirt, it would be appropriate for working in an office. Downplayed elegance, professional and feminine.
There was no way I could fight with it on, but fighting wasn’t an option at this point. If I left Cyrus, he’d simply take Alrik back. I had to play Cyrus’s game in a way that would keep his interest on me.
Not that I had the first idea how to do that either. Arguing about the dress would be stupid, and I didn’t think I’d ever acted like that. Figuring out what had gotten him obsessed with me in the first place was the only thing I could do, but I had no clue where to start.
“Just put the dress on, my dear.” Cyrus laid the dress on the bed, then disappeared in the closet again. I frowned, glancing at his dresser and wondering if I should check there for underthings. He let out a soft laugh. “You won’t need them.”
I swallowed hard. He was dressing me up to take me out. Leaving me accessible meant I’d probably go through much worse than just him fucking me. My hand fisted in the soft material of the dress, wrinkling it. This was nothing that I hadn’t expected, but I’d kind of hoped he’d be greedy for a little bit at least. If he planned to show me off and let others use me…
Maybe he’d gotten so bored already that I wouldn’t live through the night. I had to change that. Had to find a way to make him want me all to himself. My life depended on it.
“You’ve changed.” I turned my back on the dress, facing him as he came out of the closet with a pair of black stilettos. He arched a brow as I folded my arms over my towel-covered breasts. “Did Nicole and Vince hurt you…somehow?” I glanced at the crotch of his black slacks, my lips quirking slightly. “Do you have to use others to abuse me now? Did fucking me once take that much out of you?”
His eyes went wide. Then he threw his head back and laughed. “I admire the effort, Lydia, but you can’t goad me into keeping you here and playing with you all night. I am a social animal. Even if you had entertained me properly over the last few days, my plans wouldn’t change. I miss the crowds. The thrill of a good show.” He came to me, tossing the shoes on the bed before cupping my chin and kissing me softly. “You won’t be on stage. More a sweet little snack for the executive guests. Nothing you can’t handle.”
“That’s good.” I fisted my hands by my sides, accepting that I couldn’t get out of this. At least I knew what I was dealing with. Cyrus was unstable, and hopefully I’d be able to use that in the future. But tonight, all I could hope was he cared enough to keep me alive. He might claim to be bored with me, but I had to believe I was still worth all the trouble he’d gone through to get me back. Still, I couldn’t help pushing him, just a little. “Maybe, this way, I won’t get bored.”
The back of his hand connected with my cheek. He shoved me onto the bed and the towel opened, leaving me exposed to him. He leaned over me, one hand cupping my cunt, the other braced on the bed by my head. “Don’t do that, Lydia. You won’t keep me interested by irritating me. I’d hate to get so angry that I kill you in the heat of the moment. Regrets after will do neither of us any good.”
Maybe not, but he’d lost his cool aloofness. He was hard against my thigh and he was staring at me, eyes filled with heat and hunger.
Bending down, he licked the trail of blood spilling from my bottom lip. “I almost forgot… Sometimes I almost wish I didn’t want to hurt you so much. But just almost. You’re most beautiful when you’re fighting to stay alive. I want to keep you that beautiful forever.”
“This is me, Cyrus. I won’t change.” My gaze locked with his and I lost the will to hide my intentio
ns. They were no secret anyway. “I will fight you until one of us dies.”
“I certainly hope so, Lydia. I’d have no clue what to do with you if you became tame.” He smiled and kissed my lips. Then he stood. “Now get dressed. I have a surprise for you. It’s rude to show up late to a party thrown in your honor.”
Yes, mustn’t forget my manners. I rolled my eyes and put the dress on. Once I’d slipped into the shoes, Cyrus offered his arm.
I took it. I’d tested my limits enough for one night, and it had only just begun.
A short drive and we parked in front of a grand theater. My composure held as a valet took the keys from Cyrus. As Cyrus led me inside to balcony seats that looked down at the stage for the perfect view.
If he’d brought me directly to the stage, I wouldn’t have been surprised. Instead, he let me sit and handed me a glass of champagne from a tray offered by a passing waiter. We were the only two on this balcony, but the others were full. A fairly large crowd crammed into the stands below, surrounding the small orchestra.
Sipping the champagne, I surveyed the area, trying to get a read on the situation. Maybe I’d be used for a later act. Cyrus had made it sound like I’d be up front and center with the ‘party in your honor’, but I’d be stupid to assume he meant that literally.
No reason to panic about the inevitable. When it was my turn to suffer, I’d endure as well as possible. If I could get a few moments, or a few hours respite, I’d take it.
The lights dimmed and the soft base of a haunting, classical song began to play. I didn’t know the song—the sound was disturbing though. The hairs on the back of my neck stood as the wail of the strings rose over the hush of the throng below. Shadows moved across the darkened stage, a struggle with the performers. Chains rattled, a grunt of pain, then a low, masculine curse.
Cyrus placed his hand over mine on the arm of the chair and leaned closer. “Veil of darkness. Fairly modern, but I do enjoy it.”
“What?” I couldn’t take my eyes off the stage. That curse resonated inside me, familiar. My throat tightened and I shook my head. I’d imagined a voice that would keep me safe because I needed the comfort. I had a good chance at suffering on that stage for the mass of onlookers. Naturally, my subconscious would try to spare me from facing them alone.
The End (Deadly Captive Book 3) Page 4
