Chapter Twenty-Six #4
Flipping Ily back to face us, Victor ran his knuckles over her cheek. “Let’s see how much you’re willing to fight when my friend paints you in lashes, hmm? Henri seems to think you’ll stay belligerent. Me? I think you’ll start begging. Shall we take a bet?”
Letting her go, he came toward me and stole the bag dangling forgotten on my fingers. Pulling the whip out, he tossed the bag to the side then yanked off the black ribbon. The oaky tannin smell grew stronger as the long length unspooled and landed across my loafers.
My cock thickened to painful levels.
I’d worn jeans and a black t-shirt; I sweated right through them.
This is bad.
Very, very bad.
Pressing the whip into my palm, he grinned. “Ten thousand euros if you go too far and make her sob instead of swear. Deal?”
Wrapping my fingers around the leather braided handle, my head swam as I did my best to cling to sanity. “Fine.”
“Excellent. I do love a good wager. That reminds me, we still need to transfer those funds.” Stroking the whip, he smiled.
“No matter, I have a feeling you’ll be undergoing your initiation sooner rather than later, and we can get the nasty business of money over and done with, but for now...
seeing as you’re new to this, this is called a bullwhip, and it’s a personal favourite. It leaves the most delightful lashes.”
“Use the bullwhip, Onn Ree. No, not that one. That’s a tigress whip. No, that’s a cane. God’s sake, boy. That one. Yes. Now...hit her.”
My heart pounded through my ribs. “Awesome.” My hand trembled as I stroked my thumb along the handle. It looked similar to the one in my fucked-up childhood. Only difference? This was dark brown and my father’s had been tan. A colour light enough to turn rusty with layers of shed blood.
Feeling sick to my stomach, I made the mistake of looking at Ily.
Everything screeched to a halt.
Every moment of last night.
Everything we’d said.
Every promise we’d whispered.
They seemed utterly stupid now.
Were we really going to fucking do this?
Do we have a choice?
Victor manhandled me until I stood at a good striking distance.
The pit enveloped me with its icy draft and cold stone.
“Now, I’m being lenient with your requests for her to fight back.
But I hope you realise I won’t tolerate you being in love with her.
You need to do whatever it takes to break that little disease.
Your loyalties are to me and only to me, and love will only—”
“Love?” I laughed mockingly. “Yeah, about that. You’re wrong, Vic. You completely got the wrong end of the stick last night.” I shook my head with another chuckle. “I’m not in love with her. I don’t care about her apart from how hard she can make me blow.”
I didn’t look anywhere near Ily.
I wouldn’t be able to hide the truth if I did.
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow. “How would you explain your feelings for her, then?”
“I dunno. You tell me. I was under the impression it was an obsession. A fascination maybe? Definitely possession.” I smirked. “Could even be a delusion at this point.”
He cocked his head. “I fear you doth protest too much, my friend.”
“Nah.” I shrugged. “Just trying to figure it out for myself. I’m hardwired to fixate on one person. The thought of sharing that one person makes me aggressive. But if I find a better person, then...” I splayed my hands. “I’m open.”
He studied me carefully. A bit too carefully. Finally, he pursed his lips and nodded. “I suppose time will tell. For now, I’ll permit your closeness as it seems to be helping your evolution but the day I suspect you’re lying, well...I have a particular game in mind. For both of you.”
I ignored the urge to gulp. “Sounds good.”
“Okay then...” He smiled widely and stepped back. “In your own time, Henri. I trust you’ll figure out how to whip your jewel while I play with mine. By the way...” Tapping my chin, he pushed up.
I fought him, but he just clucked his tongue and forced my eyes to rise to the domed, gemstone-painted ceiling.
I stiffened.
Lounging on metal walkways above, two guards with sniper rifles resting by their feet waved.
Whispering in my ear, Victor said, “I value our friendship and no longer doubt you, but...I never said I trust you. For future reference—so we can continue to play with ease—just know we’re never alone. I hope that isn’t a problem for you.”
He let me go, and I acted my fucking ass off. “Not a problem at all. I think you’re wise to protect yourself. From what I witnessed in Emerald Bruises, your other guests are deranged.”
He laughed loudly. “Yes, you’re quite right. They are. And that’s what makes you so special.” Smacking a kiss on my cheek, he backed away. “Right, I’ll let you have your fun. Don’t hesitate to—ah! I almost forgot!”
Ah fucking hell, now what?
“Rachel, come here, my sweetling,” he called.
Climbing elegantly to her feet, Rachel padded toward us, her teal dressing gown swaying. “Yes, Sir V?”
“Show Henri your scars from the last time we played this game.”
Without a word, she untied her sash and spread her legs.
I gritted my teeth as memories of last night came back all over again.
“See?” Victor grabbed her knee and opened her legs a little wider. On the creamiest part of her inner thigh, hidden from view and rather close to her pussy, five thick lines glittered blue in the low light.
What the fuck?
Pulling a small vial out of his pocket, Victor tossed it to me.
I caught it by instinct, narrowing my eyes at the sparkly powder. “What’s this?”
“I told you.” He let Rachel go. “It’s my personal favourite of all the games we play here.
I only let a few indulge because frankly, the dust is expensive, and I don’t like others marking my property.
” Tapping the tiny bottle, he added, “First you cut them, then you scar them. This is the pigment that makes those scars shimmer.”
Shaking the vial, I scowled. “That’s why you call it Sapphire Scars?”
“Precisely. The body is miraculous in its healing. I appreciate the silver lines left behind after a wound has healed, but sometimes, I want to see my hard work, don’t you agree?”
“So you tattoo them?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
I held the vial up to the watery daylight coming from the high windows. An iridescent blue glimmered. “You’re saying I’m holding a jar of microscopic sapphires?”
“Not microscopic. Crushed. Each time I go to my sapphire mines in Vietnam, I ensure a few of the very best stones are crushed into powder.”
“Why?”
“Because sapphires are my favourite stone and just happen to match my eyes.” He fluttered his lashes with a laugh. “And also, because it makes such pretty markings.”
I didn’t want to know why or how he knew that. Why he’d even come up with the idea or how many times he’d experimented.
“What do you want me to do with it?” I asked.
“Tattoo Ily of course.”
“Excuse me?”
“After you’ve whipped her, taste her blood like you so enjoy, then sprinkle some of this in the wounds.
Don’t worry, it won’t hurt her. Gemstones are naturally antibacterial.
Did you know that? Ily would being a gemmologist. I’m sure she’d love the opportunity to wear the very thing she’s studied permanently on her skin. ”
I shook my head. “She’s already tattooed. Her wand—”
“I know.” He grinned. “But you’re about to whip her. Beginners never get the whip’s pressure right. You’ll end up cutting her. And when you do, I want you to pour some sapphire dust into the wounds. Within a week, her body will heal around the tiny particles and forever glitter in the sun.”
I hated the longing springing inside me. To have her wear my mark? To brand her?
I shook my head, dispelling such darkness. “It’ll ruin her ink.”
He shrugged with a sick smirk. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy her wounds as they healed after Ruby Tears, mon ami. I saw you looking at them. I saw the pride on your face. Wounds heal. This scars. She’ll always wear your signature after today. Won’t that be nice?”
He prowled away before I could argue or convince myself I didn’t want this.
Going to Rachel’s side, he whispered something to her, then guided her to the four-poster bed with its shackles and chains.
My eyes met Ily’s.
Our connection flared.
She gave me the softest, saddest smile.
Fuck, how many times would we have to play these twisted games? How long would Ily have to endure such unacceptable things? And how much could I resist before I lost myself all over again?
Fisting the vial, I placed it into the back pocket of my jeans.
When you’ve got her free, then you can have an existential crisis.
For now...keep him happy.
Victor wouldn’t let me leave here without doing what he wanted.
I’d have to scar her. But at least I wouldn’t damage the drawing her brother did or destroy a part of her past.
Victor thought I was a novice at this.
Sure, a couple of decades had passed since my education in these arts, but...I’d been taught by the best. I knew the noise of a perfect swing. I remembered the slice of miscalculation. I might have muscle memory in a boy’s body, but I recalled enough to be confident I wouldn’t hurt her...too badly.
Fuck.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I allowed myself to accept what I was about to do.
I was about to whip a woman I’d fallen stupidly in love with.
My life was about to come full circle, and...the chances of me snapping were sky-fucking-high.
But...she’d agreed to fight me back.
As long as she gave me her fire, I could remember where I was.
But her fight will draw out all that darkness.
The beast inside me would take over.
I’d enjoy this far more than I should.
Merde.
Today might truly be the worst and best fucking day of my life.
The bullwhip warmed in my hand.
My black blood sang.
This was happening.
For better or for worse.
And I suppose I better get started...