CHAPTER 6
I stay at Rebecca’s side until dawn breaks, casting a soft light through the curtains and making her chestnut hair glow. Usually, I’d leave the moment I had finished the job—washed the girl, collected the samples needed for the STD tests, and administered the contraceptive shot—but something about this girl compels me to remain in place. A strange urge to look after her has been nagging at me since that first night when our eyes locked.
I’ve seen a plethora of different reactions in the many girls I’ve processed for Gabor over the years. Hatred, fury, panic, despair, and grief. They always look at me like I’m the monster under their bed, and I usually enjoy it, relishing the surge of power as I force them into submission. But this one is different. Sure, she fought and cried, but when I caught her watching me, she went still. Her eyes were wide and vulnerable, and where most girls’ brows would be knitted in fear, hers were soft with a plea for protection.
Holding her down while we waited hadn’t been part of the order. My instructions had been to tie her up on the bed and cover her head. On any other night, I’d step aside once I had carried out the order, only stepping back in if the girl was about to hurl herself over the edge of the bed in a fit of blind panic. But I couldn’t resist the plea in her eyes—I couldn’t resist the urge to watch her soak up the comfort of my hand even as she fell deeper into helplessness beneath my weight. So I stayed with her as we waited for Gabor to show up.
Gabor doesn’t mind me improvising from time to time as long as he gets what he wants and I don’t use the girls for my own pleasure—unless invited. He looked outright pleased when he found me on top of her, and I think that’s why he asked me to not tie her, but just hold her down myself tonight.
I glance at my phone and see that it’s time to leave. We have a shipment coming in this morning that I need to oversee.
Getting up, I take a final look at the sleeping girl. If it wasn’t for the slight puffiness of her eyelids, there’d be no telling what kind of night she has had. Come to think of it, she has been calm since she drifted off—no tossing and turning, as if troubled by nightmares.
I take a step closer and run my knuckles over her cheek, then flatten my palm over the rosy skin. Her lips part, and the softest of moans slips past them as she leans into my touch.
I make a silent huff. Curious girl, this one. Even in her sleep, she reacts to me.