Epilogue
Hadrian
Two Months Later
The deep emerald-green collar glints at Juliet’s throat. It’s the exact shade of her eyes and compliments her beautiful hair as if she was born to wear it. Every time my eyes stray to it, my heart swells in my chest and I’m overcome with love. She’s really mine.
Right now, though, I’m sure she wishes she wasn’t.
She struggles on the bed, back arched at an angle that can’t be comfortable, even though she does yoga three times a week. Her braided hair is fastened to the pole of a hook buried in her ass. If she tries to straighten herself out, she jams it in deeper. Simple but effective.
I lean back in my chair and smile when her eyes meet mine. Her skin is flushed and sweaty, and by the way her lips are clamped together, she’s holding in a string of curses. It would only get her in more trouble, and she knows it. I can’t resist needling her. “Comfy?”
She lets out an anguished noise filled with rage, then snaps, “Yes, Master. Thank you so much.”
Oh, we’ve reached the point of sarcasm, have we? It must be bad. “Keep that attitude up, and I’ll add a little bit of your favorite lube. In fact, that’s a great idea.”
I stand and head for the drawer where I keep the stinging lube Juliet hates so much. I take my time reaching for the handle, waiting…
“No! No, please, Master.”
There we are. No sarcasm this time. Juliet and I have been having a lot of fun lately. Sometimes, I need to bring her back into line. I spin to face her, and wide green eyes meet mine. “What, you don’t like that idea?”
She’s been like this for twenty minutes already, and the strain is showing. I bound her hands in front of her, and her clenched fists twitch as she shifts, trying in vain to find a more comfortable position. “No. It’s too sore, I need to get out. Please…”
I tip my head to the side, as if considering, and let the seconds pass. “I’ll tell you what. Give me one orgasm like this, and I’ll set you free.”
Making Juliet orgasm in awkward, painful positions has become my new favorite game. It’s even more fun when I’ve denied her for a few days. Her struggle is beautiful.
I’ve become a twisted bastard and don’t regret one single second of it.
All I get in response is a pained whimper. Good.
I select a small vibrator. I don’t want to leave Juliet in this predicament for much longer, but she needs to pay the piper before she gets loose.
“Spread your legs,” I command, knowing it’ll put more pressure on the hook. It’s awkward for her, lying on her side, but she manages it with a groan. “Concentrate, doll.”
I activate the vibrator but don’t press it to her clit right away. No need to make this too easy. I start on her thighs, moving it in circles, just grazing the edge of her pussy with each pass. It doesn’t take long before her breathing picks up and her noises become less pained and more needy.
How long has it been? A day? Two? I lose track sometimes.
With only a minute of teasing, she’s glistening and ready.
I slide in one finger, then two, just enjoying the feel of her tight, wet, heat on my skin.
I love how well trained I’ve got her. She wriggles against my fingers, murmurs, “Please,” and it’s enough to make me shift the vibrator onto her swollen clit.
I can’t wait to see her fall apart.
I run the toy back and forth over her, bringing her closer to the edge with each pass.
I know her body so well now that her progress toward the tipping point is as clear as writing on a screen to me.
I use it against her plenty, and even though she’s getting her reward, I take the chance to torture her a little.
I pull the vibrator away. “Actually, it’s getting late. I have to leave in a few minutes. You take too long, doll. Maybe I’ll give you another chance tomorrow.”
“No! No, Master, please. Don’t stop.”
No hesitation. None of the embarrassment that she always feels when using my title. In moments like this, she’s laid bare, all her inhibitions stripped away. Dark power washes over me like a drug. Juliet is desperate, begging, and all mine. Fucking perfect.
I tap the toy lightly on her clit, and even the light pressure makes her squeak. She squirms toward it as I pull it away, heedless of the hook. Her ass will be sore later, and I’ll take full advantage once I get home from the auction.
I give her a low, mocking laugh. “Oh, doll. You really need this, don’t you?”
“Yes! Please! It’s been three days. Please.”
Ah. Three days, then. That is a little cruel of me.
I tap her clit once more, just to see her wriggle toward the toy, then relent and press it right where she needs it. “Go on, then. Make it quick.”
Her face screws into the serious expression she makes when she needs to orgasm under difficult circumstances. It’s adorable, and I watch her brows pinch as she grinds against the toy. She’s almost there. Three, two…
She cries out, body spasming as much as it can whilst arched. She clamps her thighs together, strong muscles squeezing my hand as she rides it out. It lasts a long time, and by the glazed look in her eyes once her body finally relaxes, it must have been intense.
I kiss her forehead—I couldn’t do that as Saldar, and now I do it every single day—and carefully release her from the contraption I locked her in. I enjoy this part almost as much as tormenting her. When she’s sleepy, satisfied, and ready to doze off in my arms.
Sadly, we don’t have that luxury today.
Once Juliet’s brain comes back online, she glances at the clock and gasps. “Oh. Shit. You really are running late.”
I sigh. “I wish I didn’t have to go. It’s…”
What words are there to describe a woman being offered up at auction?
Sometimes, Brothers nominate another Brother to take on their Ward after they die, but it’s usually once they’re ancient and more in the name of companionship.
Brothers and Wards live a long time thanks to our medical care.
Young Wards ending up without a Patron is rare.
There are a number of older Brothers without Wards, but how many will be interested in Dimitry’s Ward? Kendrick has kept everything quiet so far, and the woman herself hasn’t been seen at all around the Compound.
Jacob thinks Kendrick is hoping no one will step forward to take the poor woman and she can live out her days in peace.
Juliet’s eyes harden. “No. I’m glad you’re going. This is gross, and everyone should see it. I don’t understand why this has to go ahead. Hasn’t she been through enough?”
As the captive of a serial killer, probably.
“It was Dimitry’s final wish. The Brotherhood takes it seriously. I agree, it’s nasty. I think that’s why Kendrick is insisting everyone go. If he makes it enough of a spectacle, no one will want to step forward.”
“I hope so. Ophelia tried to visit her to see if she was okay, but she wouldn’t open the door. The other Wards don’t know her at all. They thought she was shy and liked to keep to herself, but maybe she wasn’t allowed to socialize.”
A grim thought, and it follows me as I kiss Juliet goodbye and make my way to the meeting hall.
It’s packed when I arrive, but Jacob catches my eye and waves me into a spare seat next to him.
He’s been friendly since Candice came back online and even apologized, in his gruff way, for thinking I was crazy.
I fucked up, mate. No two ways about it. Now let's grab a beer.
After that, we seemed to be friends.
Gabriel and Sebastian are present, too, and they greet me with tense nods as I take my seat. The mood is grim, and even normally chatty Sebastian doesn’t have anything to say as he stares at the stage.
I’ve spent the past few days trying to work out why everyone is so upset about this. We take women captive. What is so terrible about this in particular? But then I remembered how good most people are at lying to themselves. Myself included.
What I have with Juliet is special. It’s different. I’m not really holding her captive. I’m making her happy.
I’m sure eighty percent of the men in here tell themselves the same kind of story, and the remaining twenty percent don’t give a shit.
But this auction? It lays the barbarity of the Compound wide open. There’s no special relationship here, no carefully chosen Ward. Just a woman who has probably already been through hell passed off to a stranger against her will.
Jacob breaks the silence. “Good to see you, mate. Quinn never shuts the fuck up about the game she’s making with Juliet. If I have to hear about it one more time, I swear I’ll fucking lose it.”
He rolls his eyes, but the affection in his words takes all the sting out. He hated seeing Quinn broken after I shut down Candice. He might like to complain, as all British people seem to, but he’s happy she’s back to her old, annoying self. And so am I.
Before I can reply, Kendrick steps on stage.
The few conversations that were going on die out quickly, and he starts to speak.
“Welcome, Brothers. We’re here to honor the final wishes of our Brother Dimitry, following his execution.
He left instructions that his Ward be sold at auction, and that’s what we’re going to do. ”
He makes no effort to hide his distaste. By all accounts, Kendrick loved his Ward and was heartbroken when she died. He really believes the Brotherhood’s spiel about Wards and Patrons having a sacred bond. Doing this must be painful for him.
A single chair sits in the center of the stage. It’s reminiscent of the initiation ceremony setup, but this isn’t the throne-like seat I’ll have to sit on in a couple of months’ time. It’s just a plain wooden chair, and there’s something sad about it.
Are we really no better than this?
Kendrick walks off stage and returns a moment later leading a woman by the arm. I get my first look at Dimitry’s Ward, and my heart twists.
A long curtain of dark hair frames her pretty, heart-shaped face. She’s small, and the long white dress she wears sets off the slight tan of her skin. Her dark eyes are cast down at the ground, and she looks as though she’s trying not to cry.
Kendrick’s movements are stiff as he leads her to the wooden seat. She sits, scans the crowd once, then looks at the floor. I can’t blame her. It must be a horrible, intimidating sight.
Kendrick clears his throat and speaks briskly, as though he wants to get this finished fast. “As money isn't of any use here, any unattached Brother who wishes to take on this woman as their Ward shall make their case as to why they should be chosen. I will make the decision.”
A murmur runs through the audience at that. We’d all been wondering how Kendrick would handle an auction where currency isn’t of any use.
Kendrick continues. “In the event that no one steps forward, Dimitry’s Ward will be granted full accommodation and resources to live out her life in the Compound as she sees fit.”
His tone strongly implies this is the best outcome. Jacob mutters, “Don’t think anyone’ll put their head on the chopping block for this one. Who’d want to piss off the big man?”
Who indeed? I start to relax. Kendrick raises his voice. “If anyone would like to present themselves, please step forward."
Surely no one will. There can’t be—
“I’ll take her.”
A brash voice rings out, and a man struts up to the stage. He’s in his sixties with a jowly, pinched face and ruddy skin.
Jacob stiffens. “Fuck me. That’s Edward. He wanted Quinn before I took her. He’s a right cunt.”
Kendrick’s face darkens, disapproval radiating from him as Edward ambles on stage. The woman in the chair shoots a quick glance at him and flinches. Does she know him? Has she run into him before?
Edward looks around at the empty stage, then smiles and holds out his hand toward the woman in exaggerated courtesy, but his eyes glimmer. “Excellent. It looks as though you’re mine now. Come. You’ll stay with me tonight.”
The woman flinches away, and Edward’s face hardens. “Don’t get off on the wrong footing, Rosalie.”
Rosalie. The way he says her name implies familiarity, and the pleading look she shoots toward Kendrick cements it. She knows Edward. She’s scared of him. This is—
Kendrick’s voice is a whip crack. “Step back, Edward. She’s not yours yet.”
Edward jerks back, and his voice turns obsequious. “Sorry, sir. I’ll observe the formalities, of course. I only wanted—”
“Why do you believe you should have her?”
Edward leers at Rosie and all but licks his lips. “I’m familiar with this Ward. She…knows me, so it will be an easier transition for her. I know what she needs.”
Kendrick’s face is stony. “Is that so? I’ll take it into consideration. Does anyone else wish to step forward?”
No one speaks up. Kendrick’s jaw works, and he takes a heavy breath. He shoots a glance at Rosalie.
“In that case, I’m putting myself into contention.”
There are a few seconds of absolute silence, then whispers break out all over the room. Sebastian mutters, “No fucking way.”
My thoughts exactly.
Kendrick takes a step toward Edward, and there’s something threatening about the way he moves. Edward shrinks back a step, looks at Rosie, then seems to find his backbone. “By the rules of engagement, I don’t think—”
“I make the rules. I choose the winner. And I’m choosing myself. Take a seat, Edward. She’s mine.”