Chapter 28 #2
“No, it’s…” Her smile returned with a vigor that made an odd contrast to the mist in her warm brown eyes. “Merci,” she said. “You’re very kind.”
I stepped out of the limo into a parking lot and made my way toward the entrance.
The hellhounds on duty gave silent nods and let me pass without question.
Inside, the club was dark and still. The others wouldn’t be up yet, and I planned to slip up to my room and vanish for a few hours—just long enough for the spin in my head to settle and the ache in my chest to ease.
Though I had a feeling that would take more time than I had to spare.
I crossed the club floor, weaving between scattered tables and booths toward the dressing room door. As I reached for it, the door swung open to reveal my boss standing in the frame. Maslow blinked in surprise, then grinned wide, sharp teeth flashing in the gloom.
“Baby boy, you’re back early.” He stepped forward while glancing around as though he expected to find Beck nearby. The absence amused Maslow while making me ache all the more.
“I hope Beckett isn’t angling for a refund.” He clapped a meaty hand on my back, knocking the breath out of my lungs. “And I hope you didn’t think your little sleepover exempted you from roll call.”
The cheeky phrase hit me like a slap. Roll call. No, I hadn’t thought about it—hadn’t missed it either. But the moment he said it, dread coiled like a viper in my gut.
He meant the morning feeding. The lineup. The inspection where we stood shoulder to shoulder like show animals before a judge, waiting to be pawed over and scored. He liked to draw it out, sensing the way our energy shifted as he approached, savoring the taste of fear and resentment in the air.
I’d woken up today without that weight pressing down on me, but it was crushing now.
“No…” My reply was a squeak, better suited for a mouse than a man. A pathetic protest.
I’d been stripped down to borrowed clothes and bare feet, but at least I was full. I had something to show for yesterday’s wonder, for being cared for and guided through the city like I belonged in it, not just some sideshow curiosity. My hunger was gone because Beck fed me.
Then I lost him—we were through—and the thought of losing the last piece of him still with me…
Maslow’s eyes danced with mirth.
“Please, I can… I’ll…”
I wrung my brain dry trying to come up with a proposition he would accept. Something I could offer besides the energy he intended to drain. I could think of only one thing, and it rankled me, but with everything else gone, I had nothing more to give.
Breaking free of Maslow’s touch, I turned and dropped. I meant to lower myself gracefully, maybe seductively, but no. This was a collapse. I got on my knees before the man who’d first asked to see me that way, then looked up at him through lashes clumped with tears.
It wasn’t what he wanted, but perhaps he would take it. Maybe if he got his own pleasure, he would leave me with mine.
I knelt there, broken and begging, but I couldn’t bring myself to touch him. Or to offer in words what I invited with my posture.
Then, the wraith laughed. His belly bounced uproariously, and my burden of apprehension was coupled with devastating shame. I had become everything he wanted, forced into the mold made for me, and he thought it was funny.
Maslow’s chuckle tapered off as he reached down, fingers like a shackle around my arm. He hauled me up in a single jerking motion until I stood on my toes.
“Nice try,” he snarled, his breath hot and sour in my face. “But I won’t be cheated out of what I’m due.”
His other hand flattened over my chest, fingers splayed, and then—he pulled.
It felt like my skin inverted. Like my soul stretched thin, peeled away layer by layer.
My breath caught, locked behind my ribs as if even oxygen was being taken from me.
My knees buckled, but Maslow held me up while drinking deep, draining every drop of Beck’s essence, every scrap of safety I’d stored away.
When he finally let go, I crumpled and fell to the cold cement floor.
Maslow loomed over me. “I don’t want to fuck you, but if I did, I wouldn’t need an invitation.” His voice was alarmingly calm. “Now, get up and go to your room.”
My pulse pounded as my eyes drifted to the door behind him. The steps beyond it would be hell to climb, but I would crawl if it meant I could get away from him. Away from this.
Maslow followed my gaze, then smirked. “Not up there. That’s closed now. I needed the space for storage.”
I met his gaze, dumbstruck. Was this a punishment? It must have been. He’d penalized Beck for using me without payment, now I had to make amends for my part in the trickery. Beck had money, but I had… even less now. Maslow had no use for my body, but there was more he could yet rob me of.
I huddled on the floor at his feet, clutching my stomach as though I expected to find it concave.
“You can use the room down here,” Maslow said. “Just keep it tidy for company.”
The room down here.
The one with no windows and furniture made of chrome and leather. The glamorous cage with restraints bolted to the walls and ceiling and a camera to monitor my every move.
Tears spilled over; I didn’t try to stop them.
I felt like I might never stop crying.
Maslow offered no assistance as I gathered myself off the ground.
Reeling and with nowhere else to go, I went where he sent me.
The walk down the hallway was like a gallows march.
My feet dragged until I reached the door and shouldered it open, too spent to lift my arms. Inside, the air was cold and clean.
Clinical. It was the opposite of the rich, comforting aroma of Beck’s suite, and the sights were stark and hard compared to the hotel suite’s lavish fittings.
This space was too bold. It screamed with buckling straps and corded leather whips and lengths of chain that assured me I would scream in here too.
The bed was made, pristine but wrong, and the furniture was as cruel as ever. Metal restraints dangled like waiting hands. I didn’t look at them, but I couldn’t ignore the camera light glaring red in the corner.
Watching.
Recording.
I stumbled to the bed, climbed onto the mattress, and curled in on myself.
A hiccup punched through the silence. Then another.
I cried until my sobs gave out, leaving behind a dull, aching quiet.
And I stayed where I was put, in the place Beck said I belonged.