I would never do such a thing…
“How?” Mr. Prest’s bark was sharp and snappy.
Stupid man. You’ll never get the truth. Leave before you make me slip again.
Staring at him had somehow overridden my hatred for what I’d endured, removed my blame off his shoulders, and begged him to stay.
He was the only one with unique power over Master A. What could I do to make him free me rather than destroy me?
Master A sneered. “She fell down the stairs.”
Seriously?
God, what a cliché.
I didn’t move, waiting for Mr. Prest’s follow-up question. How did she fall? What did you do? Why should I believe your lies?
Only, there were none.
Slowly, he grunted in understanding, and that was it.
Moving around the couch, Mr. Prest balled his hands. “In that case, our deal is complete.”
What? No!
How dare he prickle with questions he already knew the answers to?
Damn you. Curse you!
Leave! And never come back!
I trembled on the floor. Filling with rage so thick and violent, I bit my tongue.
Master A laughed, instantly relaxing, sensing victory while I wallowed in defeat. “Excellent.” Striding forward, he held out his hand. “You’ll get in touch in eight months once delivery can be made?”
“That’s right.” Mr. Prest accepted the handshake, his eyes carrying the weight of Hades and heaven as he looked at me, lingering on my dress-hidden body.
I managed to keep my gaze downcast even as my mind filled with curses and slurs at his awful sport. He’d made me think he felt whatever it was that sprouted between us. He made me believe I was worth someone’s piqued attention.
Stupid, Pim.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
He felt nothing.
Nothing!
My vision turned glassy as furious tears came unbidden. I wanted this entire thing forgotten. Master A was right. I had wanted Mr. Prest more than I wanted my owner—not sexually, not emotionally, hell, I didn’t know how I wanted him.
But I had.
And now, I was cured. I knew my place. I would never be allowed to stray from it.
Sighing with all the disappointment and despair I had left, I hugged myself, resting my forehead on my knees.
I didn’t care anymore.
I just wanted to be alone.
Mr. Prest’s regal, deep voice tore through my depression. “Does she still have my jacket?”
Yes.
And you can’t have it back.
Because I’m going to burn it while thinking of you.
Master A nodded. “She does. She’ll fetch it if you want.”
I huddled deeper into my crouch.
Don’t make me, you bastard. That’s mine to do whatever the hell I want with.
“No. It was a gift.” Running a hand over his chin, Mr. Prest added quietly, “However, before this deal is one hundred percent concluded, I have an extra term to add.”
Master A didn’t tense, believing it was something he would willingly agree to. He thought he’d won. “Oh?”
I knew better.
My spine stiffened as I stopped breathing…waiting.
Mr. Prest chuckled under his breath, dragging out the anticipation. “This clause should be easy for you. Something you will have no problem with seeing as you offered such a thing when I was last here.”
No.
I dared look up, my head rising while the rest of my body sank deeper into the icy tiles.
Don’t.
“I did?” Master A asked.
Stop.
Mr. Prest made eye contact with me, knowing full well I knew what he was about to request. I had no say in this. I would have to obey, and by obeying, I would kill myself.
Why did that terrify me so?
I’d spent the past few days thinking about his death, my death, everyone’s death.
I should be glad knowing that after tonight, Master A would kill me himself. I just had to hope it was quick rather than drawn out and agonising.
Perhaps, Mr. Prest will do it?
Once he’d taken from me, I could ask one thing. I could speak for the first time in forever and beg for death so I could win at the final punishment.
Mr. Prest tore his depthless gaze from mine, locking onto his business partner. He smiled, keeping his lips tight over his teeth, unable to hide his predatory conquest from showing.
His hand outstretched, pointing directly at me. “Her.”
Master A spun around, catching my head raised and vision glued on Mr. Prest. “What?”
Immediately, I dropped my chin, squeezing my eyes as if I could convince him I wasn’t staring.
Mr. Prest went from standing to a fast prowl to my side. He bypassed Master A with an elegance and swiftness like an eagle swooping on the doomed rabbit before anyone blinked.
I jolted as his cool hand landed on my scalp, his fingertips splaying over my forehead.
“I want her.”
He tugged ugly strands of hair, combing me, petting me, preparing me for whatever he had planned.
I shivered for an entirely different reason.
Master A choked. “No fucking way.”
Mr. Prest’s touch returned to my scalp. I swallowed a moan as he once again stroked me. The way he fondled me wasn’t like a man with a woman. More like a hunter with its prey; a ruler with its defeated quarry.
“You offered to share her. You said I could do whatever I wanted.” Gathering more of my hair, he tugged a little, forcing my body to rise from the floor and sit up straight for the first time in months. My ribcage decorated the tight dress like a xylophone as my nipples hardened beneath the fabric.
He held me there like a statue. “I want to take you up on the offer.”
Master A’s temper swirled hotter, thicker, crazier with every second. “That part of the deal is no longer on offer—”
“It is if you want it to continue.” Mr. Prest’s voice resembled an axe, hacking through the air. “I want her all to myself. And I want her for an entire night.”
An entire night?
Air vanished in the room. I entered some vortex where panic ruled with cymbals and hurricanes.
I’m…Oh, I can’t breathe.
My unbroken hand soared to my throat, clutching at the tight muscles as they prevented me from sucking oxygen. Another panic attack swooped from nowhere as my eyes bugged with disbelief.
He can’t be serious.
I expected one hour. A request to fuck me then leave.
Not an entire night.
Black spots danced as I fell deeper and deeper into hysteria.
Mr. Prest didn’t offer any condolences, merely held me by my hair. His attention was on Master A, waiting for approval.
What will he do to me?
As my fingernails scrabbled at my aching throat, I did my best to settle my drum set bashing heart. It didn’t matter. It would never happen. Master A would never let him claim me for a full night.
No one had done that.
No one.
I was borrowed for brief interludes. Not rented for negotiated periods.
He won’t let it happen.
I’m okay…I’ll be okay.
I had no explanation for the swirling attack I suffered. I’d endured so much worse than Mr. Prest. Yes, he was the devil dressed in angel wings, but he had a refined venom that other monsters lacked.
He was terrifying.
“No fucking deal. I’ll find someone else to build what I want.”
“No one else has the contacts, and you know it.”
Master A snarled, “You’re not fucking my slave.”
“She’s a slave for that reason.” Mr. Prest’s voice never rose, staying royally calm and melodic. “And I will have her…if you want what I have to give.”
My body spasmed as I sucked in a noisy breath, hating the way my skin heated at being fought ov
er. I never thought I’d be so wanted, so desired—even though it was for terrible reasons, I was priceless for a fleeting second.
“I’ve paid you a fucking fortune!”
“And I want something more.”
“No way.”
Mr. Prest’s fingers clamped around my nape, hoisting me unceremoniously to my feet. I couldn’t fight the pressure of his strong grip, shackled entirely to his mercy.
Standing didn’t help my impending panic attack. I wobbled in place as Mr. Prest forced me to look at him. My watering eyes wrenched up, drinking in his face as if he held the future not the end.
His hair glossed so blue-black and thick, it looked like tar pits—ready to snuff out my life. His gaze flashed with ebony rage. “Yes. And I’ll tell you why.” His voice dropped to a hiss. “I know you’re the one who beat her. I know her hand didn’t break from falling down the goddamn stairs. And I know you punished her for things I did last time I was here. I want her. You treat her like shit. The least you can do is give her to me so I can do the same.”
My knees buckled.
My girlish whimsy of actually being treated cordially pulverised.
He wanted…not to sleep with me…but to hurt me?
That was how he got his kicks? By beating already beaten women?
My anger pushed back my panic attack, giving me a pillar to hold onto while dragging air into unwilling lungs.
How dare he!
How damn dare he barter for my body, knowing full well he’d ruin it more than it already was.
Fuck you!
Master A straightened his shoulders, still fighting an already lost battle. “Are you forgetting what she is? She isn’t human. She’s a possession. My possession. I paid for her. She’s mine to do what I want with—including loaning her to those I approve and denying her to those I don’t.”
“I suggest you change your mind about denying me. Just because she’s yours doesn’t mean I won’t take her if you won’t give her to me.”
Dragging me forward, he encroached on Master A. “I’m a thief, Alrik, before I’m a deliverer of war. I could steal her, and you’d never know. But I won’t out of respect for our agreement.” He narrowed his eyes. “Deal or no deal. Either way, I’m not leaving without tasting her.”
Tasting me?
Master A knew he was beat. His gaze fell on me, turbulent and possessive. “You’re not leaving the premises with her.”
“Fine. I’ll stay the night here.”
“Where?”
“Does she have a room?”
Master A sighed. “Yes.”
“Private?”
He shrugged. “There’s no door but yes, private enough.”
“Put the door on, give me the key so we won’t be disturbed, and you have your agreement.”
I wanted to shout and demand they see me as a human. A woman. Not a transaction to be beaten for the night.
They wanted to hurt me.
That was all I was to them.
They both deserved to die.
Keeping my lips pressed tight, I curled my arms around myself, protecting my brittle chest and broken hand.
I’d be having sex tonight.
I’d be hurt tonight.
By Master A or Mr. Prest.
It no longer made any shred of difference.
Chapter Eighteen
Elder
“Fucking fine.” Alrik glared with all the hate he could conjure.
He had an obsession with his slave. Unhealthy. Dangerous. An obsession that deleted rationality.
And I’d just directed that possessive idiocy onto myself by demanding the one thing I swore I wouldn’t.
You weren’t strong enough.
I’d come here promising myself I wouldn’t fucking do this.
I’d vowed over and over again that I wouldn’t look at her, talk to her, even notice her. For the first part of the meeting, I’d succeeded.
But then my mind wandered to the quiet bruised mouse in the corner. Her silence tugged me, forcing my attention to wander back to her every time I yanked it away.
Now, I’d done something I already regretted.
What the fuck am I doing?
This would not end well. I was supposed to get the final paper copies signed, Selix to post to my lawyer, and set sail in a few hours.
I wasn’t supposed to be spending the night with a girl who almost hyperventilated herself into a coma because I’d claimed her for a few hours. I couldn’t trust myself. I’d already gone too far by touching her.
A man like me had rules for a fucking reason.
My fingers pressed together. I forced myself to forget about the silky strands of her hair against my skin. Her skull had been so small beneath my touch, imprisoned by claws that’d murdered men for my gain and stolen from those who’d wronged me.
Scrubbing his face with both hands, Alrik muttered, “Give me twenty minutes to find the door. It’s up to you to reattach it. I won’t fucking help.”
“I can manage.” I swallowed my temper. “And don’t bother searching. I don’t want you to claim you can’t find it and for us to battle again.” Looking at Pim, I smiled thinly. “Tell me where it is and Pimlico will help.”
The slave girl stiffened, her shoulders stark and sharp.
Once again, her silence was full of sound. If I closed my eyes and listened with every sense rather than just my ears, I might be able to pick up the general curse words she no doubt hurled and the pleas for compassion she tried to hide even from herself.
Pleas didn’t work on me.
Never had.
Never would.
Alrik huffed, pulling a few keys on a silver ring from his back pocket. “You don’t give up, do you? You want a night with her? Fine. Get it fucking over with.” Tossing the jangle of metal at me, he snarled, “She knows where the door is. It’s in safe keeping with a whole bunch of stuff she’s lost the privilege to use.”
Closing the distance between himself and Pimlico—still swaying in my grip—he grabbed her cheeks, pinching hard.
Her lips formed an innocent bow as he glared into her eyes. “Now, sweet little Pim. Mr. Prest is gonna have his fun with you. Just like all our other friends, got it? I don’t want this to happen, and neither do you. So think of me, and don’t you dare fucking enjoy it.”
Her body jerked as she fought the instinct to bolt and obedience to stay.
I looked away in disgust.
Why the fuck had I argued for one night with this girl? She’d been abused far too much to want me. It didn’t matter I would treat her better than the assholes who’d ruined her. In her mind, I was just the same: someone to tolerate, fantasise about their death, and turn off her soul while they thrust between her legs.
Nothing was sexy about stealing from her.
Nothing was right about what I was about to do.
So fucking stop it and just go.
I ignored the thought because that was impossible.
I had to get her behind closed doors. I had to remove her from my thoughts if I was to find peace again.
Already, I felt the corruption inside me clawing for more. One taste, one touch, one kiss, one fuck.
One was all I was permitted.
And if I wanted to use my allotment tonight, that could happen. Because I had no plans on ever setting eyes on her again.
Alrik pecked her forehead like a father would his daughter heading to something she feared. “Behave but don’t make me jealous. Otherwise…remember my previous promise about the past few nights being easy.”
My gut clenched.
He was so fucking deluded; he didn’t even try to hide that her multi-coloured bruises were from his fists. Some, however, were from other wounds…a shoe, perhaps?
My gaze dropped to my own ludicrously expensive footwear. What colour would her skin paint if I used such craftsmanship in the same way? Would her bruises be pretty or uglier? Would I be kinder or more brutal?
So many things to find
out.
If I let myself be a monster like him.
Which I wouldn’t.
I think.
I’d hurt many people before but never for selfish pleasure. Would punching her feel different from punching a man trying to hurt me? Would sleeping with her be any better than paying a high-class escort who generally enjoyed her job when treated right?
So many questions that I needed answers to so I could move the fuck on with my life. And once I’d gained those answers, I’d end it for her.
Death would be the kindest gift I could give.
However, could I take her final fight, knowing I’d kill her in return? Was I that cold-hearted? Or was I a selfish fucking bastard who would use her without the stomach to murder her afterward?
I guess time will tell.
Alrik clapped his hands. “Go get the door, Pim. Don’t make me ask twice.”
The girl immediately shot from my hold, dashing from the lounge and into the corridor where I’d given her my jacket and seen her mistreated tits for the first time.
“I suggest you follow her.” Alrik smirked. “She’s small, but she moves fast. You don’t want to lose her. Lots of rooms in this place to get lost.”
My eyes narrowed, hearing the threat but not taking the bait.
Without a backward glance, I strode after the slave I’d bartered to spend the night with. I’d been interested in this girl since the second I noticed her. I only grew more curious the longer I followed.
Heading down the corridor, she turned left before entering an internal garage, darting around a white Porsche, and moving toward the back of the space.
There she waited with her eyes downcast, her body facing a locked cage where three doors, knickknacks, cardboard boxes, and other paraphernalia rested in the gloom.
“That’s the door?” I asked, passing her the keys to undo the padlock. My question hung unbelonging, dangling unanswered.
I didn’t get a reply.
Not that I expected one.
Hesitantly, she took the offered keychain, careful not to touch me.
Turning her back, she tried a few before finding the right one and cranking open the gate. Her eerie silence was even more pronounced in the lifeless garage.
No sound came from her bare feet, no rush of breath, no rustle of clothing. It was as if I stood there by myself.
If I couldn’t reach out and touch her—to make sure she was flesh and bone—I would’ve juggled with the idea of her being a ghost.
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