Savage Kingdom: A Dark Romance (Sekten Book 1)

by C. Lymari

  “Is this a game of twenty-one questions? Or are we going tit for tat?”

  I grinned, and she glared.

  “Did you miss the part where you went from being Yoro’s whore to my captive?”

  That certainly got her attention; her heated gaze landed on my face.

  “I might be your captive, but there is something you want from me.” Her voice sounded raspy, and honestly kinda sexy. “You could have shot me on sight, yet you didn’t. Left me when your men picked you, but here I am. Covered my face, bound, and gagged me as soon as we landed in this van…you did none of that. So, you need me. You went to Yoro’s house looking for something, and you didn’t find it, and here I am…”

  She let her words hang in the air. I didn’t get angry that she called me out; it amused me.

  Gorgeous, smart, sharpshooter, and cold—she was all that, and more. There was something about her though that didn’t quite add up. I wanted to know all her secrets and figure out her lies.

  “You’re more than just a pretty face, aren’t you?” I said, and if I wasn’t looking at her, I might not have noticed her flinch.

  I struck a chord, and I was going to exploit it. She was a means to an end, and her hurt feelings were of no importance to me.

  I cocked my head to the side. “Do you think that’s why he took you? Something so pretty and pure, he must have loved damaging you.”

  She looked up at me, her eyes dead. Nothing behind that silver gaze, and it made a shiver run down my spine.

  “My beauty will fade, and I was damaged way before he laid eyes on me.”

  My chin lifted slightly at her admission. It made me see her in a new light. She didn’t like her beauty. Most women I had met counted on their pretty face, big rack, and tight pussy to get them places.

  Before I could ask any more questions, the driver gave me a signal that our destination was near, which was good. I needed to call my superiors, figure out my next step, and what I would do with the pale bitch in front of me.

  But first I needed some clothes for her, and myself.

  “Mate, make a stop, I need some clothes for…” I looked at her and realized I never bothered to know her name.

  “What’s your name, doll?”

  Her lip curled in disgust.

  “You can call me whatever you want,” she said dismissively. “It really doesn’t matter.”

  The van stopped, and before I got out, I looked at the driver. “She tries anything, shoot her brains out.”

  The streets of Chicago were busy. I was staying just a few blocks from the Old Navy, at the Hilton with a prime view of Grant Park. No hole-in-the-wall roach-infested place for me.

  Once in the stores, I got everything I needed—enough clothes to last us a few days. I wasn’t sure how much longer I would be here in Chicago, and I didn’t have the slightest idea of what I would do with her.

  When I got back in the car, the woman hadn’t moved an inch.

  I extended my arm, giving her the bag with her clothes.

  “You want to know something?” I said nonchalantly. “Yoro’s going to be pissed off, right? And you’re right, I am looking for something. I think Morozov would be willing to make a trade…”

  She took a deep breath, knowing where I was going with my threat.

  “You can call me Daphne,” she said.

  I smiled at her.

  “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it, Petal?”

  She looked at me funny. She said “you can call me Daphne,” not that it was her name, so there was a familiarity she had with that name, but it wasn’t her own. To fuck with her, I wasn’t going to use it either.

  “Change,” I demanded as I leaned back, my eyes on her.

  I could tell she was angry by the way her jaw clenched, yet she didn’t say a word. Daphne removed my jacket, throwing it at me. I caught it with one hand and raised a brow.

  “It would have been easy to make my way out of here using just your pick-locking kit,” she said dismissively.

  Not taking my eyes away from her, I searched my jacket, finding the kit still in the same spot I had left it after freeing her from the cuffs.

  Daphne didn’t even look at the driver or myself, and I didn’t know why I was surprised. She took the baby doll that covered her body and removed it. She sat naked, her body gloriously displayed, and she didn’t fucking care. She looked through the bag leisurely, as if she didn’t have two sets of lustful eyes on her.

  “Look away,” I said through gritted teeth.

  Daphne tipped her head slightly to look at me through fanned-out lashes. The van made a turn, and light poured in the back just as Daphne reached for a blouse. Her body…it was covered in scars from her collarbone down her navel, and in between her legs.

  Her face was smooth, flawless—a statement.

  The scars didn’t disgust me; if anything, it only made my cock take notice. She was fake innocence with a road map to hell. I bet every cut, scar, and wound told a story, and at that moment, I wouldn’t mind knowing them all.

  She ignored me as she put on the skinny black jeans I got her.

  “If you are trying to shame me, it won’t work,” she said once she was already dressed.

  I shrugged innocently.

  Did I forget to mention I didn’t get her any undergarments?

  “Let’s go, Petal.”

  The moment I stepped out of the van, pain shot up my leg. I reached the car for support. I took a deep breath. The first sting of pain was the hardest. It was a wake-up call to your body that something was wrong and intrusion was happening.

  No panties or bra, but he got me some fucking rubber sandals. How thoughtful of him.

  He looked at me, and he was quite handsome, attracting the attention of all the women who would pass us. Tall, with an effortless swagger that could turn deadly in seconds.

  I didn’t know who was hunting whom anymore. The moment I took his hand, I thought I was in control, but as soon as he had me alone in the van, I realized I never had it at all.

  As I walked, I ignored the pain, kept my shoulders even. It wasn’t hard, not when you grew hand in hand with pain.

  “Come on, Petal.”

  I was too focused on controlling my pain that I yelped in surprise when he took me in his arms. My hands went to his shoulders to steady myself so I wouldn’t fall. Call it self-preservation. He smelled divine, a smooth cologne with a hint of methanol. Slowly I raised my gaze from his throat up to meet his face. His amber eyes looked bright against the sun.

  “What shall I call you?” I asked, knowing that in this world, not many things had meaning, and not all things were sacred, but sometimes a name was all we had to hold on to. That’s why mine was guarded like a vault, something long ago buried, that only one person still living knew about.

  “Gideon,” he rasped out, the mint on his breath fanning my skin.

  “Is that your real name or an alias?” I asked as he walked us through the lobby of the Hilton. He was staying in a luxury hotel, and I didn’t know if I was surprised or not since I didn’t know him and couldn’t yet judge him.

  “Is the only name you’re going to get, Petal,” he said with a warning.

  Something ran through me, but I ignored it. No one had ever given me a nickname outside of sexual humiliation tactics.

  I bit my tongue. You could only push a man so far. I was patient, and sooner or later, he would divulge his secrets. Yoro didn’t scare me, not as much as facing Damian’s wrath did. What Yoro would do to me was child’s play to what the head of the Sekten would do if I came back empty-handed.

  Yoro would still want me. He would try and break me, and then he would fuck me. As for Damian, he knew how to chip at pieces of my soul.

  He was a monster, a creation of the Sekt founders. I was a pawn, created by the same laws.

  “Plotting my murder?” Gideon asked as the elevator made its way up. I realized we were twenty floors in and he still had me in his arms.

  “I can
walk,” I said, wiggling so he could put me on the floor.

  “I’m aware,” he said, not setting me down.

  “When you get tired and I get the upper hand, you’ll have no one to blame by yourself.” I shrugged.

  My head turned to the elevator door when he chuckled against my neck. I shivered, a tingle going down my back. I sucked in a breath when he slowly slid my body down his. I had nearly touched the ground when he grabbed my hips and pressed me against him.

  His arousal was digging into my ass—and he did it on purpose. He most likely wanted to instill fear in me. As if being raped was something new to me.

  “Don’t challenge me, Petal. You’re not going to like what happens,” he stated. My back arched involuntarily when he pressed a kiss to my nape. Gideon laughed. “Or maybe you will.”

  I was simmering by the time the door pinged on the penthouse floor. He was fucking with me. He thought I was a sex slave, so he was going to use that against me. That’s what all slaves were taught to believe—that they were just an object for their master’s pleasure. Sure, I might be part pet, but I was also a weapon, and a deadly one at that.

  He led me by the arm to his room, all pretense of caring about my well-being gone. The penthouse was lavish, with floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of Lake Michigan.

  “Mercenary or spy?” I said as soon as he closed the door to his room.

  A wolfish grin took over his face, making him look sinister.

  “Petal, you’re in no position to ask those questions.”

  His hold on my arm was painful, probably on purpose to see my reaction, so I didn’t give him any. When we got to the bed, he threw me on it.

  Gideon was on top of me, straddling my body—I couldn’t move. It excited him to dominate over me, or maybe it wasn’t just me, and that was just his kink—control. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of frightening me. I was sure anything he wanted to do, I had already survived it.

  “You’re going to be a good girl and stay still while I make some calls,” he told me as he put the cuffs on, fastening them behind my back. He got off me, and just as I had turned around to try and sit down, he was back holding onto a black rope.

  I glared at him.

  My mouth stayed shut as he bound my feet. I was failing miserably at acting weak—and he knew it. He turned me on my stomach, then left me there on the bed.

  Now that my body was resting, the adrenaline started to leave my body. My throat burned like lava, trying to come out of my mouth. My back ached from the unattended wounds from last night and stuck to the fabric of the blouse. My foot was still bleeding. Not like it was earlier, but it would cause me discomfort for some time.

  Pain shouldn’t be my priority; staying alive was. One thing I did know was that Gideon was either a mercenary, spy, or worked for a syndicate.

  You didn’t become fearless without some muscle power at your back. He had a plan that went to shit, but had another lined up in seconds. He was also British, that eliminated cartels, mafias, triads in the area. They tended to stick with their kin.

  The only way I would make it out alive was if my shadow was paying attention and didn’t get lost in the chaos.

  Sometimes I forgot I wasn’t a machine. Since I left Russia three days ago, I’d been awake, just a nap here or there. I didn’t know how much time had passed before I heard Gideon come back to the room.

  “Yeah, I’ll be quick,” he said.

  I didn’t have the energy to remain alert. I needed to conserve my strength and my voice. The less I talked, the less thirsty I would be.

  I closed my eyes with all pretense of resting when I heard Gideon’s sharp intake of breath. Then I felt him coming near me like a tidal wave. My shirt was exposed, and I knew what he must’ve found.

  “How many?” Gideon asked through gritted teeth.

  I didn’t answer. My throat was near burning, and I didn’t have time for useless questions.

  The bed creaked with his weight. I felt him before he touched me. Like a cloak of rage covering me—protecting me. It was ironic since he’d threatened to hurt me.

  My eyes shut before I could flinch. The pads of his fingers were calloused, clashing softly against my marred skin.

  Why was he touching me?

  Why did he care?

  I saw a burst of colors from how tightly I shut my eyes, as if that would stop the human contact.

  My shirt slid up inch by inch, and I felt Gideon’s hand touch every lash, both fresh and the ones that had long ago scarred.

  “You’re no use to me dead,” he said, his voice sounding a bit ragged.

  “A few scars won’t kill me.” My voice was like sandpaper.

  “You’d be a hindrance,” he replied.

  I stayed still as he moved around the room. When I felt him get closer, my heart started thumping furiously. My life was in his hands, and I had my eyes closed, waiting for his next move. This was not who I was. This is not who I wanted to be. I was tired of being used for the pleasure of men, whether it be for sexual gratifications or political advancement.

  My whole life, I had been the perfect pawn. Why give me claws if I wasn’t allowed to kill those who harmed me the most? They made me a weapon and told me to find peace.

  There was my duty to the Sekt, for the cause I had bled and kneeled for, and I didn’t have anything to show for it.

  My father once told me I felt too much. That I needed to get rid of my emotions; it was the only way I would thrive. My babushka said I didn’t feel enough. That I had the power to change her wrongs, and now I was in the middle of what was right and wrong—blind obedience or traitorous espionage.

  “Fuck.” I hissed the word as my back arched. Pain radiated from my lower back, a sting so sharp that it made my ears ring.

  “They’re infected already. Sorry, Petal, but this shit will hurt.”

  That was all the warning he gave me as he cleaned my back with alcohol. I bit my lips to try and stop the pain, the metallic taste of blood coating my tongue.

  Emotions were a weakness, and at that moment, I felt weak.

  When Gideon was finished, he gently turned me around. Our eyes clashed, and he was not horrified nor disgusted—completely blank whiskey eyes that I wanted to get drunk on.

  “It won’t kill you to ask for some water,” he spat at me before he grabbed hold of my chin and squeezed so my lips would part. He put a towel soaked with water in my mouth. I sucked from it, relishing the way the coolness glided down my throat, how it moistened my lips. It should have been embarrassing how I sucked that towel dry—again, nothing I hadn’t been through before.

  “I don’t have many things, not even my pride, but begging doesn’t get you anything,” I told him.

  I was eight the last time I ever begged for mercy.

  Never again.

  I cocked my head, listening to Daphne, but didn’t engage in any more conversation. I went to the kitchen to grab another soaked towel to exchange it for the one she had.

  My superiors were not pleased with how things had turned out, but they at least agreed with me that Daphne could be used for information.

  People always let their guard down with those they assumed where non-important or weak, but this woman, I bet she had a lead on the person I was looking for. All I had to do was get her to open up and tell me. Which meant that I might have to stop being so hot and cold toward her if I wanted to form a bond and get her to trust me.

  “Sleep,” I said, leaving her tied up on the bed.

  The first thing I did was take a shower, and I guess I needed to let her have one as well. After that was done, I put on jeans and grabbed the pack of cigarettes I had left here yesterday and walked to the terrace. Smoke filled my lungs, making them burn the longer I dragged it out. I held it in for a second while in my mind, I started doing a play-by-play of today’s events.

  Then I let the air go, releasing the tension from today with it. I could have died, but that had never been one of my worries.
/>
  My eyes landed on the mindless people walking down below. Ninety percent of them would never know the monsters like myself that walked this earth side by side, ready to wreak havoc at a moment’s notice.

  This was just another assignment, but why didn’t it feel that way?

  The next day I decided that the only way Daphne would open up was if she felt like she knew everything.

  I burst the door to her room open. She looked up from where she rested against the headboard. Her arms were still cuffed, but the rope was now discarded on the floor.

  I was impressed.

  “Yoro has always liked to keep me leashed for hours,” she explained before I could even ask. Her eyes were not on my face, but the tattoos on my chest. There was a dragon that wrapped around my torso, and the head rested on my abdomen. The scales all told a story. My sins were on my body for the world to see just as the sins of others were on Daphne’s marred skin.

  I grabbed the chair and dragged it in front of the bed.

  “I’m feeling merciful. How about we make a deal?” I told her.

  She sat up a little straighter, and a coy smile turned up her lips. Fuck, she was gorgeous—unearthly beauty that was chained in hell.

  “Let me guess. You want me to turn rat?”

  This surprised me.

  “You’re willing to protect Yorovich?”

  “What’s your proposition?” she asked, ignoring my question.

  I grinned at her. I pulled out the picture that I had printed earlier and showed it to her. “I’m looking for someone.” I got up and took the photo to her, gauging her reaction as she took it. Nothing—she gave nothing away. “Have you seen that man?”

  “Why?”

  Damn, she had one hell of a poker face.

  “None of your concern. Have you seen him, yes or no?”

  She looked at the picture again and then at my face. Her eyes traveled down my neck, lingering on my abs and the V cut.

  “Do you want some dick, Petal?” I mocked. “I can arrange that for you.”