Chapter Twenty-Six
………………………….
Henri
VICTOR GRINNED AS HE MARCHED toward our table.
No sun today, the sky overcast and miserable.
Ily kneeled beside my chair, her beautiful body hidden beneath a black silk dressing gown that barely skimmed her ass. I’d eaten as much as I could. My stomach revolted against anything more than one scrambled egg and toasted ciabatta. I’d hoped now that Ily and I had talked, my appetite would come roaring back.
If anything, it made it worse.
Not because I wanted to vomit at the thought of hurting her but because the fear of losing her now tore me in two.
You won’t lose her as long as you play.
Our script was rewritten.
Our pantomime in its second season.
As long as we remembered our lines and places, we could win.
We have to.
I flicked her a look where she finished off a small plate of honeydew melon and dragon fruit.
Ready? I arched an eyebrow.
Together. She smiled softly.
Once again, I had the strangest sensation of hearing her subliminally. It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be real. But the level of connection I felt to her transcended everything I’d ever felt. Maybe the depth of our bond could create fantastical abilities. Maybe the wand tattooed onto her back gave her real magic.
All I knew was…I’d actually slept last night without being tormented by nightmares.
I’d woken to her snuggled in my arms, our legs entwined, my front spooning her back and I’d tripped even harder.
I’d yanked the covers over our heads, hiding us from the bastard cameras and made use of the residual hardness from the Viagra along with my usual morning wood.
I’d woken her as I’d nudged against her soft, wet warmth.
She’d moaned as she parted her legs and welcomed me.
I meant what I said that vanilla affection had never done it for me.
But with her?
Damn, it felt so fucking good.
“Bonjour.” Victor spread his arms. “Isn’t it a fabulous morning?”
I stood and shook his hand. “The weather could be better, but yes, not bad considering.”
His navy eyes twinkled as two female staff darted forward. One carrying a fresh coffee, the other his usual plate of pastries.
Bowing, the two girls placed his breakfast on my table then scurried away to serve another Master snapping his fingers for attention. I scanned how many Masters and jewels surrounded us. My eyes snagged on Roland and Mollie at the next table. Just like I felt responsible for Rachel after what’d happened, I felt responsible for Mollie too.
I just hoped she’d survive long enough for me to free her.
My hands balled as Roland kicked her, laughing as she flinched and kept her face down.
Fucking bastard.
Ily sucked in a breath as she looked in the other direction, her gaze locked on Peter as he led the brand-new slaves to breakfast. His face was dark as thunder, his hands and feet encased in white thin bandages. The flashes of golden collars as he dispersed the new gems around eager Masters fisted my heart with rage.
Shifting in my chair, doing my best to hide that rage, I pasted a smile on my face as Victor sat down and smoothed his white knitted jumper and grey slacks. Taking his coffee, he sniffed it and shuddered dramatically. “I tell you, Henri, there’s nothing better than a good brew before an afternoon of pleasure.” He sipped it, leaving a milky moustache. “By the way, how are you feeling this morning? I take it that was your first time using Viagra? No heart palpitations? No jitters?”
Taking Ily’s empty plate, I placed it beside mine and reclined. Ignoring the sneers and jests of the Masters as they poked and squeezed the new jewels, I focused entirely on being the best friend Victor had ever had. I winked. “I made use of the effects, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Yes, I skimmed the footage this morning.” He nodded, licking away the milk on his upper lip. “A shower fuck and missionary. How very old-fashioned of you.”
I laughed, doing my best to remember how it felt to be so light-hearted after Ruby Tears. How happy I’d been to be free. “You know what? I’ve never actually fucked in missionary before. Couldn’t seem to keep it up.” I tipped my chin. “Thanks to you, I got to see what all the fuss was about.”
“And?”
“Meh.” I shrugged with a chuckle. “I think I prefer them bound and bleeding.”
“That’s my boy.” He saluted me with his coffee cup.
Deep in my memories, my father’s voice echoed too. The same line. Gifted to me for raping one of his harem.
“Well, I can tell you right now, missionary will definitely not be on today’s menu. However…” He canted his head. “I must ask, what on earth were you talking about for so long last night? You and those whispers, mon ami.” His gaze flickered to Ily. “I have no idea why she fascinates you so. It’s certainly not her ability in bed. I had to indulge in Rachel after you two left. I was feeling wholly unsatisfied.”
“She’s your favourite for a reason.” I swallowed hard, hating I now had intimate knowledge of that favourite. Just like it’d taken Victor to point out I was in love with Ily, I wondered if anyone had pointed out to him that he had strong feelings for Rachel.
He might’ve been willing to kill her but somewhere deep, deep inside him, he might still have a human heart. Rotten and decayed but still there.
I’d felt nothing but shame and regret while being with Rachel, yet with Ily? Fuck, my entire being hummed with electricity.
My fingers strayed to Ily’s shoulder, needing to stroke. The satin of her black dressing gown felt so soft, so feminine.
I snatched my hand back.
We hadn’t spoken this morning—not daring to with the cameras but…we both had our lines and curtain calls and if we were going to play…there’s no time like the present.
How the fuck do I do this again?
“To be honest, Vic…” I raked a hand through my hair, my thoughts a mess on how to lay the ground rules to protect Ily, all while distracting him from whatever her and Peter were planning.
It would fucking help if I knew what those plans were.
Swallowing hard, I shot him a smile. “I do have something I want to say, and I hope you can accept it. I hope you can accept me because thanks to you, I’m finally ready to admit what I need.”
His eyes narrowed with interest. “Oh? I do love a bit of intrigue in the morning.” Finishing his coffee, he placed it back on the saucer. “Go on then. You should know by now I never judge. I only want you to be happy, Henri.” He reached across the table and patted my shoulder.
It took everything not to cringe but the longer I let this roleplay evolve, the more I shut down the parts of myself full of nervousness and fear.
Victor might be the scariest son of a bitch I’d ever met but…he did have a heart. He might happily carve out the hearts of others and sell them on the black market, but with me…for now…he’d willingly stepped into the role of my mentor. What better way to distract him than to appeal to that mentoring father-figure? After all, I had experience in that. I’d learned how to keep my father happy by doing exactly what he wanted.
“You’re right that I’ve been low the past month. I’ve been in a bit of a black place actually, but…thanks to you pushing me last night, I think I know how to be happy. I’ve fought it for a while, but I’m done. I like what I like. It’s time I start enjoying myself.”
“Ah, I’m so glad.” Victor smiled. “I did wonder if I’d annoyed you last night. I know you probably weren’t ready to fuck another, and it probably made you jealous seeing me fuck yours, but…I admit.” He leaned back and waved a hand in my direction. “You seem different this morning. Calmer.”
Studying Ily out the corner of my eye, I waited for her to react at the mention of her rape.
Would those memories set her back? Hurt her? Rattle her?
She didn’t even flinch.
Two parts of me battled.
The monster who was so in awe of her resilience and rebellion and the man who worried she’d break at any moment.
Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes as if she was meditating.
I still didn’t understand what she meant about not watching when Victor took her but…I’d learned firsthand what sort of power concentration and centring could do.
Looking away from her was a struggle but I forced myself to grin. “You showed me, once and for all, what I need to get off. You asked what I talk about when I’m in the midst of a fuck with Ily? I told you at the start of our friendship and I’ll tell you again.” Leaning forward, I linked my fingers on the table. “I tell her what I want to do to her. Last night, I told her in explicit detail what I plan on doing when we visit the snuffbox this afternoon. Words have power. They can deliver tomorrow’s fear and yesterday’s pain. A simple reminder or a cruel promise can burrow its way into someone’s psyche so deeply that by the time you come to do the act, they’re already broken.”
Victor shivered as if I’d actually touched a nerve. “You truly could be remarkable if you let yourself go, Mercer.” Holding out his arm, he shoved up his cable knit jumper. “See? Chills. You just gave me chills.” He grinned. “I love it.” Dropping his hand, he nodded. “Fine. Talk away to your jewel. Who am I to say what fetishes are better than others.”
“Thanks.” Bending down, I pulled the black and silver bag from the floor and dumped it on the table. “You ask me what fascinates me so much about Ilyana? I’ll tell you. It’s her strength. I tell her what I plan on doing to her and instead of cowering and spoiling all the fun, she stands up to me. You see that as a flaw in her obedience, but I see it as a motherfucking aphrodisiac.”
Victor curled his upper lip. “You enjoy it when she fights back.”
“I do.” I let the truth of that darken my voice. “Like I said, you see bad behaviour and something to be beaten, I see it as a red flag to give in.”
“Yes, I’m beginning to realise that. I, too, enjoy the journey from unruly to ruled but…surely you don’t want her to stay that way forever? There’s just so much enjoyment in knowing you’re the one to silence them. You’re the one to mould them. If she never learns to submit, then where is the peace for you? You’ll never have the joy of a jewel who obeys your every whim, no matter how dark or painful. You’ll have a war on your hands every time.”
“It’s that war that turns me on.”
“Yes but—”
“I need her to fight with me, Vic. Always. You saw how I reacted when she kicked me in the nose the night I snapped. I couldn’t help it. Give me a woman who screams and tells me to fuck myself and I can’t stop what I do in response. Give me a girl who just bends over and takes it? Well....” I splayed my hands. “You get what happened last night. A cock that won’t work and the administering of a blue pill that’s just plain embarrassing.”
Sighing, he nodded along. “You make a decent point. I’d just hate for you to miss out on all the ways a subservient jewel can make you feel.”
Grabbing the brand-new whip from the bag, I tossed it by my plate. “I won’t be missing out on anything. You gave me this to use. I’m grateful and I’m looking forward to it, but I’ll only agree to go into the snuffbox with you if you agree to let me do this my way. You want me to be happy? Give me full rein of Ily’s education. You’ve had her now. I honoured that part of our deal. While she’s in your home, she will obey and be polite to you. I’ll ensure she doesn’t speak back to anyone but me. She will be the perfect jewel you expect. However, when she’s under my rule and about to take my cock, she has my permission to call me whatever the fuck she wants. She can fight me. She can try to hurt me. I need you to agree that you won’t interfere because this is what I want, got it?”
For the longest moment, he didn’t speak.
Shit, what are you doing?
I’d shared too much. Given too much away.
But…if Ily and I were going to do this. If we were going to pretend? If we willing engaged in all the depravity on offer in this place, I needed constant fucking feedback that she was still with me. Still playing with me. Still strong. If she turned into Rachel or the others…
It can’t happen.
If she broke, truly broke, I’d use my switchblade to end both of us because freedom or no freedom, if her mind didn’t stay intact there was nothing left for either of us.
Steepling his fingers, he pursed his lips and studied me then Ily. He looked as if he could smell a rat without being able to see it. Perhaps he’d seen what happened on the toilet last night. Maybe he’d heard our pact. Maybe he knew far more than I feared but finally, he stood and held out his hand.
I stood too, placing my fingers in his.
Squeezing hard, he dragged me forward. “I accept your requirements, and I look forward to seeing you step into your rightful place as Master. Shall we get started?” Letting me go, he looked at the sky. “I know we said this afternoon but I’m suddenly eager to see you in action. What do you say, pretty Ily? Fancy being whipped before lunch?”
Her eyes snapped open.
A flash of light in her gaze.
Behave. I glowered.
I’d agreed to hurt her while we had sex, but I didn’t want to ever raise a hand to her without it.
For a second, rebellion twitched her lips, but then she nodded like a perfect jewel. “Yes, Sir V.”
He swooned dramatically, pressing his knuckles to his forehead. “Be still my heart, it’s a miracle. Polite and demure. Wonders will never cease.” He waggled his finger in my face with a chuckle. “Seems you might be onto something. Right…I’ll just go collect Rachel from her appointment with Dr Belford, and we’ll go have some fun.”
Striding off, he gave me a wave.
I waved back.
The minute he was gone, my legs gave out, and I fell back onto the chair.
Ily shifted closer. Her hand touched my ankle beneath my jeans.
I looked down and caught her stare and prayed to every fucking entity that still listened to help us.
I won’t break. Her eyes shouted.
I might. I shrugged.
Together, we waited silently for Victor’s return.
* * * * *
The snuffbox was pretty much everything I expected.
Tucked down in the eastern most corner of the gardens, past the vegetable patch, behind the glass-fronted orangery, and hidden in the shadow of the battlement wall, the brick and ivy-covered tower looked like a small observatory.
Or a jail…depending on the viewer.
“Here we are.” Giving me a beaming smile, Victor withdrew an old-fashioned key from his pocket and opened the heavy, creaking metal door. It swung inward, sensor lights sprang on, and he led us inside like a sadistic prince.
Unclipping his leash from Rachel, he pointed at a spot on the floor in the centre of the room. “Wait there for me, my pet. I’ll just show Henri the ropes.”
Her blue eyes skated to me, then to Ily.
Something passed between them.
Ily tipped her chin.
Rachel nodded and braced her shoulders.
What had they communicated?
The fact that I’d slept with both women last night repeated over and over again, amplifying my shame and regret. Rachel carried Victor’s baby. He’d so flippantly ordered me to kill her. She’d lived a life of horrors, and now I was going to save her.
Save both of them.
Somehow.
“Run along,” Victor repeated, annoyance on his face for her delay.
“Yes, Sir V.” Rachel dropped her eyes then stepped down the four stone steps and into the pit below. With a barely-there shiver, she kneeled on the hard damp rock and bowed her head. Her teal silk dressing gown splayed around her bare legs like turquoise puddles.
I didn’t dare look at Ily.
I didn’t know if my monster would take charge or my damn humanness would make this impossible for me. The darkness I couldn’t shed slithered on the outskirts of my mind. The bag holding my new whip grew extra heavy.
What if I can’t do this?
What if I lose myself while hurting Ily, and she breaks, after all?
She has a safe word.
As long as I kept listening for it, I would stop.
Khushi.
Happiness.
Fuck, that word mocked me.
Why did she have to be named after two things I’d never earned and so desperately wanted?
Sighing heavily, I glanced around at the high rotund walls.
My eyes widened as I found out why Victor called it the snuffbox.
His theme of gemstones repeated itself. Giant artwork surrounded us at least two stories high, sweeping toward the domed roof above. A never-ending pattern of sparkling, priceless jewels. Sapphires blended with rubies; diamonds scattered on emeralds.
It felt as if we’d be buried under an avalanche of gems at any moment.
“Exquisite, is it not?” Victor puffed with pride. “One of my first jewels was a world-renowned painter. I managed to acquire her when she accepted a hefty commission to paint for a private collector on his yacht. Unfortunately for her, this collector owed me a few debts, and when I went to collect, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. So…I took her with me.” He pointed at the outstanding art. “I allowed her to paint these before I ever laid a finger on her. She lived in here for almost two years. When it was done, I gave her the option of becoming my personal favourite or…I could free her for the work she’d so skilfully done.”
“Free her?” I raised an eyebrow. “You actually let her go?”
Victor chuckled. “Don’t be ridiculous. But I did let her go somewhere else.”
“Somewhere else?” I played dumb, stroking his ego, all while my mind raced with the ramifications of how many people he’d killed and butchered.
Just how many body parts had he sold over the years?
“You’ll soon learn, Henri, that sometimes, the only fate available to a jewel is to kill them. I tried for a year to make Beth behave. I tried all manner of things, but alas. She would rather get hurt trying to kill me than fuck me, so…I gave her what she wanted and killed her instead. Let’s hope a similar fate for Ilyana is still far, far away, hmm?”
My heart fisted.
Ily didn’t rise to his bait. She gave none of her usual retorts or barely hidden slurs.
I wanted to hug her for that.
Get on my knees and thank her for staying in character.
Tapping his polished shoe on the echoey floor, Victor muttered, “So…you’ve told me what you want to happen, and I’ve agreed to let you play your way, but…I still expect you to work on the levels of ownership. I refuse to let her cause discord amongst the other jewels again, especially now my home is rebalanced.”
I stiffened. “You said it yourself that the purpose of those levels was to break a jewel. I don’t want her broken, Vic. As long as she never speaks back to you, then what’s the harm if she speaks back to me?”
Victor sniffed. “You’re proposing to let her keep her backbone, which never works—as I’ve just shown with Beth. If Beth had submitted, I would still have an incredible artist. My home could be brimming with stunning art, but I saw her for the infection that she was. She would’ve stirred unrest in my other gems, just like Ily attempted to do.” He crossed his arms. “While she’s obedient, it’s fine. But what about the day she shows flagrant disregard and disrespect again? What about the day she tries to turn Peter against me again? I might be forced to step in. And I’d hate to have to pick up the pieces once I was done.”
Ily sucked in a breath.
I sighed and raked a hand over my face.
Getting my shit together, I snapped, “You have my word she’ll behave. And I have your word that you won’t interfere.”
“Ugh, fine. Oui, oui.” He threw up his hands. “It’s on your head.”
A wild, stupid idea popped into my mind.
He wanted proof she’d behave?
I’ll give him proof.
“Ilyana,” I said softly. “Please assure Victor that you’ve finally accepted your place and will behave.”
She flinched.
Shit.
What the fuck am I doing?
“Yes, Master H.” Swallowing hard, her eyes tightened. “I’ve accepted my place, Sir V.” The words literally looked as if they choked her. “I promise to behave from now on.”
Victor snickered, enjoying her little show. “And…” He arched an eyebrow.
Bastard.
Cunt.
Fuck, this is hard.
Inhaling deeply, condemning myself to hell all over again, I murmured, “Apologise to him, little nightmare.”
Fuck, I’m sorry.
So, so sorry.
Making her apologise to her rapist?
I’d hit my absolute lowest.
She dropped her gaze to the floor, her shoulders bunching. “And I’m sorry for my behaviour, Sir V.”
“Aaaand…” He dragged out the word.
“What else do you want her to say?” I barked.
He gave me a sharp look. “I merely want—”
“I won’t disrupt the balance again, Sir V.” With balled hands, Ily dropped to her knees as elegantly as a falling feather. “I won’t turn Peter against you. I belong to Master H and exist by your magnanimity.”
“Magnanimity, huh?” He smiled with an evil glint. “That’s a big word for a little jewel.”
Bowing her head, she committed to her role in ways that churned my guts. “I’m yours, Sir V.”
He sniffed. “Quite right.” Stepping into her, he rested his hand on her head.
She couldn’t stop a tortured moan escaping.
To let him touch her after what he did to her?
Jesus Christ.
It took all my fucking strength not to kill him.
Images of him thrusting into her from behind.
Foggy memories of him grabbing her hips and—
“I’m enjoying your obedience, my sweetling, but I do have to wonder if it’s because Henri has shackled your mind like he did when you thought he was a cop.” He grabbed her chin and yanked her face up. “What else has he been whispering to you, hmm? What other promises has he vowed?”
She blinked with blank eyes. “It wasn’t him, Sir V. It was…I saw the cave where…” Closing her lashes, she sighed. “I know what will happen if I don’t obey.”
He chuckled and let her go. Wiping his hand on his trousers, he smirked. “I knew Peter would lead my jewels there. I suppose he told you what extra activities I have him do for me, too?”
Extra activities?
What?
Crowding closer, I did my best not to rip Ily into my arms. “As you can see, Vic, she’s learned. Shall we—”
“No, Sir V,” Ily said quietly. “T-The altar spoke for itself.”
Altar?
The cave with the carved seats and a stone table shot back into memory.
The whole energy in that place had been sick.
Victor laughed and clapped his hands. “Oh, this is going to be fun. Perhaps I should invite all of you down for the next Diamond Kiss. If it instils this level of compliance, it might save me a lot of headaches. I do have eight new jewels to train. Perhaps a quick field trip to the Temple of Facets could fast-forward their education considerably.”
Diamond Kiss…shit.
Ily froze.
I turned into stone.
That damn fucking chit.
The back of my neck grew hot as Victor pinned his blue eyes on me. “You don’t happen to know who won that gift in the treasure hunt, do you? No one has come forward and it’s usually the first prize to be cashed in.”
Sweat rolled down my back.
If only Ily hadn’t found it in the wardrobe. If only I hadn’t asked what it meant. If only I’d found it first and torn it quietly into shreds.
No one would know what I’d flushed.
No footage would exist of me winning it.
“I’m sorry.” I shrugged. “No idea.”
“No matter. It’ll turn up eventually. And if it doesn’t, I’ll have my guards go through the recordings to see if it was lost or misplaced. I like to skim the footage to keep abreast of what my guests are doing, but I don’t have the time to watch every little moment—especially now that you’re not nearly as entertaining with your mystery and secrets.”
I laughed around the boulder in my throat. “Sorry I’m not giving you viewing pleasure anymore.”
“Me too. It was fun playing detective and figuring out who you are.”
“Who I am is grateful.” I lowered my chin, playing right into his hand. “I don’t know who I’d be without you guiding me, Vic.”
His eyes softened. He looked genuinely pleased. “And you’re so welcome, my friend. Right.” He clapped his hands. “Enough standing around talking. Let’s have some fun.” Marching into the centre of the pit, he clicked his fingers. “Come here if you please.”
Drained beyond belief and we hadn’t even started yet, I left Ily kneeling by the doorway and joined him.
My damn legs trembled. The bag holding my new whip dangled in my fingers.
I stopped beside him. The room ringed out like a perfect clock. Beneath my feet, a drain with rusty grates allowed an icy breeze to escape, hinting it wasn’t dirt beneath our feet but another room, another torture chamber. At each time marks where clock hands would go, certain apparatus existed.
At twelve o’clock, a giant cross waited for its next martyr.
Two o’clock, a strange looking chair with no bottom and a sling.
Five o’clock, a rack full of whips and paddles.
Seven o’clock, a device covered in cuffs and chains to trap the limbs of its victim.
Nine o’clock, a table, stained and pockmarked with unmentionable things.
Eleven o’clock, a bed with black silk sheets and four posts with hooks for collars and cuffs.
The rest of the room blurred as I spun a full circle and caught eyes with Ily still kneeling by the closed door.
My heart picked up speed, growing sicker by the moment.
I love you. I balled my hands.
She half smiled, fear tiptoeing through her golden gaze.
Tearing her eyes away, she looked at something at four o’clock. A round mirrored ball—large enough to splay someone over, glittered with shackles and chains.
Images of Ily tied down in whatever position I wanted shot into my head.
Parts of me rebelled.
Parts of me woke up.
My monster prowled with its shadows of depressing darkness, twisting me the fuck up for wanting any of this.
Victor beamed at his playground. “What do you think?”
I locked my quaking knees, ignored my aching cock. “Looks fun.”
“Oh it is.” He winked. “Beaucoup fun. I look forward to teaching you how to use each one.”
My heart stopped.
“I think you should start with the St Andrew’s cross, seeing as you enjoyed Ily on a cross in my trophy room. This one can be tilted, flipped upside down, and widened…depending on your preference and access to what hole you require.”
I wanted to be sick.
I laughed instead. “Sounds good.”
“Let’s get the games going, shall we?” Victor strode toward the cross and quirked his finger. “Come here, Ilyana. Allow me to give your Master a quick demonstration.”
She flicked me a panicked look.
I shutdown all my terror.
Every molecule wanted to forbid her, but I nodded. “Go to him.”
I coughed.
Those three words gagged me.
Stuck like glass shards in my throat.
With a heartbreaking inhale, Ily obeyed.
With more poise and elegance than I could stand, she climbed to her feet, padded barefoot down the stone steps, and cut across the large pit.
Rachel looked up and gave her a quick smile.
Ily gave her one back.
With tight fists, she stopped before Victor.
She didn’t speak. She merely stood there…brilliant and brave, serene and submissive.
“You’re learning, my pet.” Grabbing her by the shoulders, Victor spun her around and pushed her against the cross.
She grunted as her back slammed against the hard wood.
I saw red.
I drowned in black.
I stalked forward, ready to tear his motherfucking head off.
And…stopped myself with agonising self-control.
Play along.
Distract him.
Do your part.
“Oh, I apologise, Ilyana. Did that hurt?” Victor smirked.
Keeping all her hate hidden, Ily bowed her head. “No, Sir V.”
He chuckled. “I have to say, I’m liking this improved version of you.” Pawing at the sash of her black dressing gown, he spread it wide and revealed her perfect body. She didn’t look at me as he tore it off her shoulders, leaving her bare.
He cupped one of her breasts, grazing his thumb over a nipple.
My restraint snapped. “Victor.”
“Yes, I know. Yours.” Letting her breast go, he grabbed her wrist and slammed it above her head.
Guilt and grief and godawful fury churned toxic in my stomach.
With a happy huff, Victor fastened her golden cuff onto a hook, then repeated the process with her right arm. Once both hands were trapped above her head, he toed the leather buckles dangling near her ankles. “It’s up to you how tightly she’s bound. Personally? I just confine the wrists. It’s easier to do this.” Grabbing her by the hips, he flipped her around. She moaned as her cheek and breasts wedged against the cross, her wrists criss-crossing with the hook twisting on its length of chain above.
Tears shot to my eyes.
Followed by the hottest, sickest gush of lust.
Fuck, I grew hard.
Achingly hard.
With a heady groan, Victor ran his hand down her waist and cupped her ass.
“Victor,” I snarled.
God, what was this doing to her?
Being touched by the man who raped her last night?
Having me stand by and allow him?
Jesus Christ.
He chuckled and let her go. “With their ankles unbound, it gives them a bit of leeway to dance under the whip’s sting.”
My head rushed with static.
I couldn’t breathe.
Stay in the role!
Wiping my mouth, I choked, “I can imagine.”
“Oh, no need to imagine, mon ami. You’re about to do it.”
I shivered with equal parts desire and despair.
“Have you ever whipped someone, Henri?”
“That’s it, Onn Ree. See how they welt for you? You’re very good at this, my boy.”
Swallowing my past, I shook my head.
No way would I admit I could swing a flogger at seven years old. That my education in this filth started well before I could read.
No wonder my mind blocked it out so completely.
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…