Chapter 4 Raven #2
Stoker possessed quite a mean streak, worse than his own father's, and had little patience when it came to women. This situation was delicate and required finesse. Stoker was more of a bull in a China shop. He wouldn't help put the girl at ease.
No, I absolutely didn't want him to deal with this.
Top performers were prima donnas—if you wanted them to follow orders, it required either enticing them into submission or handling their emotions with kid gloves. It was precisely why he'd overseen the talent while Stoker served as the enforcer.
"It's okay, Stoker. I got this. Just get us home so we can all be more comfortable. I'm ready to get this night over with."
He shrugged, momentarily taking his eyes off the road, his face contorted in restrained frustration.
"I'm just trying to make things easier for you, Rave. By all means, carry on. I've just never seen one this beautiful.'"
His gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, lingering on her. At the sound of the compliment, she looked up, looking up with his eyes with a hard stare—almost hateful.
"One—? You act like I'm some prized show animal for you to handle," she snapped, her voice sharp with defiance.
Raven took her entirely in that moment. There was no doubt in his mind—this girl was a fighter and breaking her would be no easy feat. With a wicked grin, she lifted her hand and flipped Stoker off, her irritation laced with false bravado.
"You'll regret that later."
Not if Raven could help it. He rolled his eyes, looking out the window.
Why was he so possessive of this girl? It wasn't if his father would condone him in a real relationship with her. Fuck her, yes, have her no. After all, how would it look if his son were to marry the help?
"I told you earlier, there is no reason to act undignified.
You're here to fulfil an obligation. Not your own, regrettably, but one you agreed to be responsible for, nonetheless.
As long as you do as you're asked, you'll be treated with respect.
Act like a brat, and you'll be treated like one.
Do you know how I treat brats, Butterfly?
If you keep testing me, you'll find out soon enough. "
Mynx leaned forward to the back of his seat, putting her face inches from his own. And then ran her tongue around the edge of her lips while looking deeply in his eyes and taunting him.
"You want me quiet. Soft. Submissive. You want me to pretend I'm less so you can feel more.
But I won't. I won't be your pet, your puppet, your pretty little prisoner.
So go ahead—hate me for it. You'll find I don't care.
Yes, you've forced me into a situation I don't want to be in.
But I won't be treated like anything less than I am. "
Turning to face the front again, Raven clenched his teeth, his words coming out in more of a growl than actual words. "We shall see— Butterfly, keep it up."
She slammed herself back into her seat, boots driving forward. The impact reverberated through the car, jolting the front seats and bucking both men forward. The sheer defiance in her actions was impossible to ignore, a physical manifestation of her simmering frustration.
If he didn't know any better, he would have thought she was throwing a temper tantrum. He looked at her, his eyebrows raised in a crook, in a face of disbelief. She smirked at him.
She did, she just threw a fucking temper tantrum.
"Pull over, Stoker."
Clearly, a little lesson in propriety was in order. Raven didn't want to make the situation any more difficult than it had to be. But if she treated the wrong member of the organization the way she just treated him, she would be dead.
Easing to the side of the road, Stoker put the car in park and looked at him expectantly with one eyebrow raised in disbelief.
Raven held up a finger in response, a silent request for patience.
He said nothing as he moved swiftly to the back door.
Slipping inside, he settled into the seat beside her, his presence immediate and deliberate.
For a moment, shock froze her; wide-eyed and motionless, she stared at him beside her in disbelief. The look on her face changed drastically when the realization hit her that she had gone too far; it morphed into panic—raw and undeniable.
He grabbed her by the arm, attempting to pull her to him.
She recoiled instinctively, pressing herself into the corner of her seat, as if the distance could shield her from him.
Tears spilled down her beautiful face, her lips trembling as she stared at him, unwavering.
She no longer resisted, though something in her eyes had shifted—remorse flickering in their depths.
"I'm sorry, please stop, I'll behave, I promise. Just don't hurt me."
He didn't want to scare her. But she needed to know who he was and what she was dealing with. People rarely defied him unless they were willing to pay the price, their blood.
Mynx no longer carried the fierce presence of a lioness — she looked more like a drenched kitten, small, fragile, and stripped of her fire. Raven pushed the softness in her away. Struggled to keep his face blank.
Good, she needs to learn her place before her actions get her killed.
"Get over here and take your punishment like a woman, or it will be worse for you later, I promise you."
She shivered, shrinking into herself.
He was doing his best not to laugh at just how scared she was pretending to be of him.
He was fully aware of how imposing his presence was; in fact, in his line of work, it was a blessing.
He was no fool, though she was trying to play the victim to avoid punishment.
She hesitated, her movements slow and uncertain, yet inch by inch, she began to slide his way.
"Whatever you need to do to make yourself feel better.
" She batted her eyes, her expression shifting into something fiercer, more defiant.
There you are, Butterfly. He pulled her to him until her full weight sat on his lap.
Locking his eyes with hers, he showed no emotion as her panicked heartbeat pounded against his chest.
"Over my knee— now. I won't hurt you. I'm going to teach you a lesson."
"Is that-- what you're going to do?
Raven gritted his teeth and positioned her across his lap on her stomach.
He pulled her pants down to her legs. She wriggled under his scrutiny, her flawless, round ass being bared to him, a genuine reward.
He hoped that his hesitation would be as sweet a torment for her as it was for him.
He'd waited so long to touch her again that he wanted to enjoy the moment—the sweet bliss of it.
But his erection started to press painfully against his zipper.
If he didn't do it now and finish it, he might not be able to resist the urge to devour her whole any longer.
Three times he smacked her perfect ass, leaving a perfect imprint of his hand on her cherry red cheeks.
He hoped he'd proved his point. He rubbed his hand along the hot handprint, hoping to soothe the pain just a bit before gently pulling up her pants and placing her in the seat beside him.
He wanted to hold her and console her. To explain, but now wasn't the time.
As he gently lifted her chin, stunning pools of liquid honey and gold stared back at him, in defiance beneath long, lush lashes. "The next time I tell you to do something, you do as I say, or it might be worse. Do we understand one another?"
"Oh, I understand." Mynx pushed his hand from her face and turned away.
Fuck—he was a piece of shit. This was why he'd never find love. His mind danced in a twisted ballet, constantly conflicted with itself. It was dark, and it was painful most of the time; it wasn't romantic.
Who the hell was he kidding? He had so many sides to his personality, his sexuality, he could have been a diamond.
Why not? He'd spent his whole life under pressure.
He liked the analogy. He'd enjoyed not only making her squirm but leaving his handprint on her ass.
Claiming her. Maybe it was his way of marking his territory.
Perhaps he just wanted her to behave. Either way, he'd have to take care of his needs later himself.
Adjusting himself, he stepped out of the car. Maybe she hadn't noticed how he'd been hard as a rock for her. Or perhaps she had. Either option was acceptable to him.
Returning to the front seat, he nodded at Stoker, and the car took off again.
God, she is beautiful.
Leaning back, he closed his eyes. Mynx's scent still clung to him—raw, electric, impossible to forget. When he lifted her off his lap, she gasped. Pain, maybe. Surprise. But beneath it, it was an unmistakable reaction: she'd wanted it and wanted him. He could smell her desire.
The ache in his gut was more than lust—it was hunger, the kind that made men reckless. He breathed in again, slow and deliberate, trying to cage the animal clawing at his ribs.
His phone lit up in his hand. He scrolled past names until he found the one he needed. Shelby.
One more breath. One more taste of Mynx lingering on his skin. Tonight, she'd haunt him. Not just her body. Her defiance. Her need. Her power. And he wasn't sure if he wanted to possess her—or be undone by her.
Pulling up the keyboard, he typed out his message.
"Is her room ready?"
He watched the three bubbles at the bottom of the screen as Shelby typed her response.
"Everything's ready, Rave."
"Good— we are five minutes out. Make sure the other girls make themselves scarce when we bring her in. I don't want to overwhelm her more than she already is."
"Already taken care of that, they all went out for the evening."
"Good, you can head home for the night. I'll call you if I need you. Tell Steven I say hello and kiss the twins for me."
"I will—goodnight, Rave."
Short and sweet, she was probably tired. New performers weren't brought home very often. Raven strived for quality over quantity when it came to the club. The number of people who could afford Blood Lust's prices was limited, so hand-selected performers had become the status quo.
Members had to be thoroughly vetted before they could even get in to catch a glimpse of one of them, and the process took time. Getting the performers comfortable in the new lifestyle also took time.
Most need to be tutored on how to behave appropriately in upper society social situations, learn how to dress, and have their hair and makeup styled, just to be considered by the club's members.
These men were paying millions of dollars for contracts that lasted anywhere from one to twenty years.
They weren't looking for trailer park Bettys or Bobs with bad makeup and thrifted clothing.
They were looking for class and style to complement the gift-wrapped bodies they covered in luxury and jewels for the duration of the contract. Bodies that, when God created them, made him cry at his own creation of such beauty.
Pulling up to the gate, Stoker faced the camera, letting the laser scan his eye for entrance.
Raven saw the awe on the girl's face as she took in her new home.
He heard the mansion boasted the title of largest house in California, but he'd never actually fact-checked it.
He was used to the size; he'd lived in it since he was a small child.
But he could see how shocking it would be the first time seeing it.
This was the case with most of the performers.
They had no clue what to expect when they agreed to come here.
There was no advertisement for what happened here, and the first thing everyone had to do was sign an NDA.
Business deals were all managed underground.
What they first may have thought was a prison sentence turned into the opportunity of a lifetime. To have the ability to be happy.
When his father requested that he traffic stolen people for profit, he'd offered him a more palatable option in return, as he found the practice barbaric and cruel.
Raven couldn't admit that to his father because cruelty ran in the man's veins; he lived for it.
Instead, he proposed the idea for Blood Lust and its potential to generate more revenue at a lower cost. All he saw was dollar signs.
The bulk of the money from the sale of the performers went to his father; he kept a small portion, which was divided between him and Stoker.
All the revenue from the club, including food, drinks, and entertainment, went to the two as well.
His father wasn't worried about chump change, as he called it.
Stopping in front of the house, Stoker put the car in park. "See you in the morning, Rave?"
"Yes, see you in the morning, are we still sparring in the gym at six?" Raven asked.
"Yeah, I'll be there, and you better bring your A game."
Raven smirked at Stoker before turning towards Mynx. "Are you ready for this?"
"Ready as I'll ever fucking be." She let out a slow, measured exhale. Her fingers tightened briefly around the door handle before she pulled it open. "Let's get this over with," she muttered, her voice firm despite the unease that flickered in her eyes.
He hated this part for her—the moment before the chaos of a new world unfolded for her. He wished he could shield her from what was coming. But it wasn't how things worked, not in his world.