Savage Kingdom: A Dark Romance (Sekten Book 1)

by C. Lymari

  “Can I buy you a drink, baby girl?” The voice was husky, laced with fake seduction.

  I turned to glare at the darkest eyes I’d ever laid eyes on.

  “I’m good.”

  “You sure? Say the word, and we can get out of here in a heartbeat.”

  I smiled at him.

  “I’m not alone,” I told him.

  “If you come with me, you won’t be,” he smirked, his eyes twinkling past me.

  Before I could answer, arms caged me in between the bar and the body that had pressed up behind me.

  Gideon’s smell filled my senses; his heat was a warm blanket of faux security.

  Looking at those coal eyes, I smiled and curved one of my arms around Gideon’s neck. If he was surprised by the action, he didn’t let it show.

  It was showtime. He wanted to see me play; he was about to lose.

  My voice was low, throaty, and sensual. Something I was taught to do was to entice men. It never failed. “This is Gideon, my boyfriend.” The words rolled out of my tongue with ease. Deception ran through my veins, and revenge was steaming from my pores. Gideon bent low, his lips brushing against my cheek. It took everything in me not to flinch.

  I turned my head, looking at the man only to find him grinning. His eyes were mocking me.

  “I am in good company.” I winked, then leaned and mock whispered, “He does sinister things to me, then he soothes me with his sexy British accent.”

  Gideon’s breath came labored in my ear. I didn’t have to turn around to know he was putty in my hands.

  “Well, I can see you don’t need me.” The man smirked. He signaled for the waiter and dropped a hundred-dollar bill. “Get the lady another cocktail.” He fixed his tie, smiling, then clapped Gideon’s back and walked out of the bar.

  I bit my lip as adrenaline coursed through my veins. Looking up, I found Gideon looking at me. I thought I might have seen apprehension, but it was nowhere in sight. He was full of lust, and that was one hell of a mental cloud. I smiled at him, pleased.

  “Told you I could play along,” I whispered.

  He bent his head, our lips almost touching. And I briefly wondered how it would feel for those lips to create chaos on my damaged soul.

  “You’re fucking dangerous, Petal,” he said in a grave voice.

  He had no idea—but he would find out.

  I turned my head to look around the bar, but Bas, my shadow, was gone.

  Hiding my pleased smile was a lot harder than I thought. People underestimated a pretty face—like I said, my own organization underestimated mine. Damian, the head of our organization, took great pleasure in dragging my name around. I knew to stand up to him, I needed allies. So a year ago I found one. A broken playboy. He was everything that didn’t belong in my world, but once vengeance spreads through your veins and carves on your soul, there’s nothing you won’t do to appease it.

  Ever since then, I’d had him under my wing. He would join the Sekt soon enough. With my training and his pedigree, he would be an asset the likes of which we’d never had before. The best part of all? He was only loyal to me.

  When I came to Chicago to avenge Adrik, Bas came with me. Always keeping a distance. One of his jobs was to tail Yoro while he had me. I had to ask him how he knew to wait at the house that day. I was damned impressed.

  “You’re thinking awfully hard there, love.” Gideon’s breath fanned my cheek.

  “Do you think Yoro or his men will be at the club?” My voice was meek on purpose.

  Gideon pressed his front against my back as he leaned to grab my cranberry vodka. He brought the drink to my lips and tipped it. I swallowed the alcohol as fast as I could, but Gideon was pouring it quickly. I felt some liquid dripping down my lips to my neck.

  When the glass was removed, Gideon pulled my hair back, giving him access to my neck.

  I closed my eyes when I felt his tongue lick the trail of spilled vodka. It was wet and hot. When he got to my neck, he gently bit the tendon that was thrumming at the side.

  “Yoro gets his hands on you,” he whispered against my neck. “I’ll cut them off.”

  A shiver ran down my body. It wasn’t repulsion or fear—far from it. What he said ignited a fire within me. My core clenched, and I realized that for the first time, someone was affecting me.

  I had pillars of ice around my heart, and this man wasn’t melting them down; he was fucking scaling them. Leaving me intact for everyone else except for him.

  “What if I wanted to do the cutting?” I whispered more to myself than him.

  “Barkeep.” Gideon ignored my question and signaled the bartender for another vodka. The bartender placed it in front of me. I grabbed the drink and was about to take a sip when Gideon spoke.

  “I’d hold him down and watch you turn his body into a work of art.”

  Fuck me.

  I swallowed the whole damn drink in one go much to Gideon’s amusement.

  “Now be a good girl. Our guest is here,” he said.

  Three drinks down, and I could handle a fourth, but maybe after the meeting. A Hispanic man came to the bar. He looked unassuming, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Ordinary. He sat next to us and ordered a beer.

  “Mate,” Gideon greeted while he played with my hair. I really wanted to move my head, but I had to prove I was obedient.

  “You came to the Windy City to play?” he asked, taking a sip of his beer and not looking at us.

  “We like to play,” Gideon said. “Don’t we, love?”

  From the corner of his eye, the Mexican man was watching me. I nodded my head and whispered. “Yes, we love to play.”

  The man pulled away and left the bills on the bar along with an old-school beeper.

  “Text the information to the number. If you pass the screening, I’ll see you Saturday.”

  He left, and both Gideon and I let out relieved breaths. Sinestre was more than a sex club. It was used to make bets, wagers, and sex was their chosen currency.

  “You’re drunk, Petal?” Gideon asked.

  I got up from my stool and smiled at him. “I could still drink more.”

  “Shame,” he deadpanned. “Was hoping alcohol made you want to ride some dick.”

  As I followed him, I replied, “And what makes you think I want to ride yours?”

  Gideon didn’t hear me, or if he did, he ignored my smart mouth. When we made it out of the bar, he hailed a cab. He guided me inside and gave the driver directions to Oak St, where all the high-end boutiques were located.

  I looked out the window as I watched Chicago pass by. This city didn’t hold fond memories for me. I’d been coming here since I was sixteen, and at twenty-two, I hadn’t been able to break that cycle.

  “Where to?” I asked once we got out of the cab.

  Gideon looked at me and smirked. “My little whore, I want you in Chanel.”

  I knew he was trying to get a rise out of me, so I didn’t bother responding. Side by side, we passed the shops, making our way to the store he wanted.

  Only loaded people attended Sinestre. The underworld had some fucked-up entertainment, and if you stepped a foot in the shadows, you might as well kiss your life goodbye. Once you walked into hell, there was no turning back.

  When the door to Chanel opened, Gideon took my hand. It was foreign and intrusive, but it was another sort of test, so I bit the inside of my cheeks and let him hold me.

  Gideon probably thought he was showing me the world. Poor little slave girl. That part was correct, but even if I was a slave, I was one with a black Amex.

  “Do you want to pick, or shall I?” I humored him as I pretended to look at the garments on display.

  He walked toward the back where a black dress was displayed on a mannequin. Square neckline, tight with a slit that went all the way to the waist. It was the perfect mix of slutty and classy.

  “You dress, act, talk as I tell you,” he growled.

  My chest burned with a slow simmering rage. For a seco
nd, I thought he was different than the men who came before him.

  “As my master wishes,” I murmured, making my way to the sales associate so I could ask for a room. Gideon didn’t follow me into the fitting room.

  The dress was tighter than I liked but not as revealing as some of the things Damian had made me wear through the years. The tops of my breasts were noticeable, and it was obvious I didn’t wear a bra by my pebbled nipples.

  It’s chilly in here.

  When would I stop being a pawn for horny men? If my babushka could see how far I had fallen from grace, she would be sorely disappointed. A change needed to happen, but I didn’t know how. There had been venom in my veins, slowly spreading since I was eight. It had been resting within me, not harming anyone but me.

  “You look gorgeous.” The soft voice scared my thoughts away.

  I saw Gideon through the mirror. His eyes roamed my face, my breasts, the skin that showed between my legs. He made no excuses that he wanted me.

  He wore a charcoal suit that fit him to a T. It accentuated his muscles, broad shoulders, and a tie at his neck. He looked refined—we both did.

  He took a step towards me, his hand brushing the hair on my nape to the side. I realized why I kept having all these odds feelings for him. He made me feel like a woman. Someone desired worthy of a man’s attention without the shadow of the past clinging to her skin like a disease. Gideon made me feel alive.

  It was a dangerous feeling I was aware of it. Still, I found myself saying, “thank you.”

  “You want to know how I know you will be riding my dick?” He kissed my shoulder. “Because every time I get near you, every time I touch you, your eyes, they grow wide in amazement—in wonder. Petal, for a guy like me, that’s like a red flag being waved in front of a bull. It’s not often I get to peel back feelings and layers, and here you are, a novelty that I want to destroy.”

  My lips trembled, and my legs shook, and my hands were clammy. I felt like I was going to pass out. His words elated and terrified me. Yes, they made me feel like a woman, but also like a failure.

  “You look edible. No one will be able to resist you tomorrow.”

  With those words, he walked out of my dressing room.

  What was I doing? I couldn’t remember why I was with him in the first place. As I took my clothes off, I reassessed my priorities.

  Revenge—I wanted revenge.

  Not only on Yoro but on Damian. Long ago, on my eighteenth birthday, I swore I would get back at him, and somewhere along the way between missions, I forgot. I was going to do this with Gideon, and then I was going to leave him. I didn’t need him to kill Yorovich. The rules be damned.

  I feared the emotions Gideon evoked more than I feared the Sekt.

  The next night Gideon barged into my room looking like a different man. He wore a three-piece suit with a black silk tie. His hair was slicked back, not a hair out of place, and those whiskey eyes were piercing me.

  I was in the dress he had picked yesterday. My hair had volume thanks to the blow dryer in the bathroom. My lips were rosy from the ChapStick I grabbed from the reception desk on our way up yesterday.

  Gideon licked his lips as his eyes traveled from my head down to my toes. The heels he had me wear made me taller by five inches, making my legs seem like they went on for miles.

  There was discomfort in my foot, but I ignored it. The wound wouldn’t bleed anymore, and that was all that mattered.

  “You look beautiful.”

  I passed by him, whispering, “I wish I wasn’t.”

  There was a limo waiting for us when we stepped outside. We had to keep up appearances. I had no idea what role we would be playing, but I was stuck following his lead.

  “What happens when you find the man you’re looking for?” I asked, not looking anywhere near him. My little adventure with him would end soon enough, and I’d rather not remember the way he looked.

  “Let’s not worry about that until we have to, Petal.”

  It was a stupid idea not having a plan, but like hell if I let him know that. We arrived at the entrance of the club, right smack in the middle of downtown Chicago. In one of the most famous buildings in this city. I didn’t know why I was surprised.

  Gideon extended his arm, giving me his hand. He didn’t take it by force—no, this was his way of letting me know I could trust him. I took his grasp, but I didn’t let my guard down. I didn’t trust anyone.

  We walked past the security in the lobby. Per the instructions Gideon flashed on the beeper, we headed to the elevator we should take. When we made it to the elevators, we went in the third one and took it all the way to the last floor. Once we were on the fortieth floor, we crossed the lobby door to another set of elevators. This time we took the fifth one. As soon as we were inside, Gideon let go of me, and I felt relieved.

  “Now this where it gets interesting,” he mumbled as he pushed numbers in a specific order—a code.

  I stepped a little to the side and behind him. I was weaponless, so if anything went wrong, he would be right by the door, and I got the feeling he would protect me. I knew events like this were weapons-free, with security checking you upon arrival, but I also knew there were ways around everything.

  The elevator moved up again, but this time the back door was the one that opened.

  “Showtime.” Gideon turned to me, grinning.

  I didn’t know why, but I smiled back. “Let’s go cause some mayhem.”

  Gideon didn’t say anything back. He kept staring at me, at my lips. I wondered if, like me, he wondered what it would feel like if we kissed? He licked his lips, and I thought he might have tried to find out, but he stepped out of the elevator without a word. The hallway was dark, with green dimmed lights paving the way.

  “Do me a favor, Petal,” Gideon said, and I stared at him impassively, waiting for him to keep going. “Don’t smile.”

  I looked down, feeling a sense of disappointment wash through me. Shaking my head, I mentally chastised myself. Why was I acting like a lovesick schoolgirl? Feelings had run intense since I’d met him. It was like learning to breathe for the first time.

  I needed to get my head in the game. No, what we needed was a long-term fucking plan to get out of the mess he was throwing us into, and one that got Damian off my back. He must be fuming right now with no word from me.

  We came to a halt at a wide red door. The entrance to Sinestre. At first, I thought this was all the cartel’s doing, but no, a club in a place like this takes many more connections than two ex-cartel members could pull off. It takes someone influential and part of this city. Clubs like this aren’t easily pulled.

  Gideon knocked, and at the same time, he gave my waist a small pinch. It was his way of saying everything would be okay. As soon as the doors opened, I knew it wouldn’t be. One way or another, I had a feeling I would lose myself.

  The man at the entrance was huge, white, and bald, looking more like a Nazi than a cartel member. Things kept getting more interesting by the second.

  “Name,” he said, looking down at his tablet.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Colton.” Gideon grinned.

  Inwardly, I rolled my eyes.

  “The missus loves to play.”

  I slightly bowed my head.

  The guard looked at me, and Gideon motioned for us to step to the side where they checked us. Then they stood aside and let us walk into hell.

  The club was big. Bigger than I anticipated for the size of the building. I didn’t know what this room was or why there was a secret space, but it made me cautious. Black and green reflected all around. People were sitting and talking, and weird chandeliers were suspended from the ceiling.

  Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I masked my face to not look surprised. The people I thought were just standing and sitting were in different acts of debauchery—women on their knees, blowing men who were having casual conversations, or riding their dicks. The chandeliers were not chandeliers at all, but men and women t
ied up and suspended in the air. They were naked, thrashing, and turning their gagged mouths —not here willingly. Then I saw them—the cages that were in the corners high up. The color of their dresses was a dead giveaway of what they were here for. It didn’t matter how many times I saw this, it still felt like I was burning alive when I couldn’t do a thing about it. They were all in white to show the status of their purity. Not all were women; some were girls. I bit my lip hard because I wanted to scream.

  I wanted to find the men who were responsible for this and kill them all.

  “Petal,” Gideon warned behind me, his voice a husky tone. “You need to reel it back in, love, because you look one second away from snapping.”

  He was right; I was losing it.

  “So, I’m your wife for the night?” I changed the subject.

  He led me to the bar.

  “For as long as I deem necessary.”

  Whatever.

  “Barkeep,” he greeted in his cocky tone, all light and making you feel at ease. “Vodka cranberry for the lady, two fingers of Macallan for me.”

  “What if I wanted some whiskey too?” I asked, mainly because I didn’t like him ordering for me.

  Gideon stood behind me, caging me between the bar and his body. “I’d be happy to give you two fingers, probably three.”

  My core clenched, his words made me wet. It was a novelty. I controlled my body, not any man. It was one thing I prided myself on whenever I was sent to fuck. Yoro hated that sometimes I wouldn’t get wet for him. Then he had to truly rape me, and he liked to pretend he was above that.

  “Anything else?” the bartender said.

  “I want to play with my pet one last time.”

  A chill went down my spine at this wording. More than anyone, I knew what you said and how you said it held meaning. From across the bar, there was a mirror that reflected all the horrors that went around us. Gideon’s smile was sinister, truly fitting for this place.

  “Down the hall.” He pointed to a far corner. The hallways looked like a vortex; there was no light in sight. “Only go in if you intend to play.”

  Showtime.