16. Hyacinth
SIXTEEN
HYACINTH
My back is still sore from the whipping. I feel pathetic about how lethargic that’s making me, especially when I know I could have taken more.
I have taken more.
Mom always stressed how important it was to stay quick on your feet even when in pain. Take whatever painkillers you need to, as long as your reactions stay focused.
I did take Avery up on his offer for a few party favors. Maybe they can get me into Zane-killing shape faster than the over the counter medication.
“Ms. Spade, welcome back,” one of the hotel staff greets. I’d wave, but even that feels like too much effort.
I hadn’t even wanted to leave the hotel room, but Avery had called for a favor, and The family always comes first. Now there’s one less person to bother Avery about his nightclub endeavors.
I’m still not sure where that all came from. Avery used to be content working under his brothers, but all of a sudden, he decided he was going to get into the nightclub business.
Not my problem.
I just follow orders.
I stop in front of my room door, keycard in hand.
Then I frown.
Something feels off.
I glance in both directions, but the hallway is clear. The carpeting doesn’t appear disturbed. I don’t notice any signs of obvious entry, and my do not disturb sign is exactly as I left it.
So why are my shoulders tense?
I reach into my pants pocket and find the small knife. If I’m being paranoid, that’s fine. I’d rather be wrong than dead.
I wave the keycard against the electronic lock, turn the handle, then push the door in with my foot.
The room is dark, exactly as I left it.
I peer in as far as I can, but the darkness and layout don’t give me much to work with. I take a step inside and let the door slam shut.
Ignoring the pain in my back, I hunch down and walk forward, my body pressed against the wall.
If it’s Lionel again, I’m going to kill him.
Strangle him lightly, anyway.
I edge closer to the main area of the room. I stop to push open the sliding closet doors, but there’s nobody in there.
My heart is beating so loud that it makes the wounds on my back pulse to the same rhythm.
I peer around the corner at the bed.
As soon as I do, hands reach out to grab me.
I inhale and scramble back, but the intruder manages to grab my arm and swing me into the main room. I lash out with my knife, but catch only air.
I brace myself for the next attack. They might have caught me by surprise, but I have the advantage. I know the layout of the room a lot better than they do, even in the dark.
They grunt and knee me in the stomach. I inhale through the pain, then grab for them and get even closer.
A familiar cologne hits my senses.
“What—?” I say, stupidly, before I’m flung onto the bed on my back. My wounds flare up in pain, a small agony that is nothing compared to the way my heart attempts to hammer through my chest.
Zane is on top of me in a split second, pinning my hands above my head as he stares down at me. I can’t make out his expression in the dark, but I can hear the smile in his voice as he murmurs, “Good evening, Hyacinth. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming back.”
He squeezes my wrists.
I let out a small sound, somewhere between a snarl and a moan. My cock twitches, and I’m grateful I’m wearing tight leather pants that constrict my cock.
“Come to claim the pleasure I denied you last time?” I ask.
“Oh, I’ve come to claim something,” he murmurs, leaning down to nip my bottom lip. “You left before I was finished with you. Again. That was… rude. I can’t abide rudeness.”
I go limp, my mind racing as to how to escape this.
The rest of my body wants to let go completely and let him do whatever he wants with me.
Hadn’t I gone over this already? Zane needs to die. I need to follow orders.
That’s all that matters, so Lionel can terrorize whoever he’s in love with, so Chrysanthemum can continue to make beautiful clothes and enjoy life.
“Sorry,” I say sarcastically. “Would you like me to bear my neck for your blade, too?”
Zane hums. “I’m not here for that, oddly enough.” His mouth finds my ear, and he bites down on my earlobe. “Not that I’d mind taking a knife to other parts of you. I did enjoy the sight of your back bleeding.”
I let out a shuddering breath and instinctively turn away from him, which exposes more of my neck.
I imagine the sharp pain of his knife across my skin. Thin, precise cuts that work to create beauty, not death.
I laugh to myself. Beauty and death, of course.
“The second you let go of my wrists, I’m going to fight you,” I say, but my voice comes out flirtatious instead of angry.
“Maybe,” he says, his fingers flexing around my wrists in a way that goes straight to my cock. “But you don’t want to fight me. You want to submit to me. Don’t you, Sin?”
My head grows fuzzy for a hot second.
I do.
I want to let somebody else be in charge. I want to not have to worry about anything. I want to stop being in my head all the time.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I can’t,” I say raggedly. “You can’t.”
“I can. I am,” Zane counters. He kisses down my neck, then bites down hard.
I anticipate the feeling of him sucking a mark into my skin, but he continues down instead.
“Let’s have a temporary truce,” he murmurs. He rubs against me, and I can feel the hard press of his cock against my thigh.
I should use this opportunity to do my job. I stare up at him, the dark obscuring his features.
Or I could pretend that I’m somebody else right now.
I’m tired, anyway.
I already killed somebody today.
My back is hot with pain.
So I nod, and I say, “Okay.”
“Okay?” Another squeeze to my wrists. “Keep your hands above your head.” Zane releases me, then his lips find mine in a demanding, harsh kiss.
I yield for him, letting his tongue explore my mouth like he owns it.
If only.
I sigh into his breath and close my eyes, my hands clasped tightly.
As long as I don’t let go, as long as I pretend I’m bound, it’s fine.
He breaks the kiss only when both of us are breathless, then trails his lips down to my jaw before continuing down my neck again.
His hands push my blouse up, baring my chest to him, and he slides down on the bed until he can get to my nipples.
His fingers find one of them, while his teeth latch onto the other.
He plays with the piercings, and I moan as the pleasure radiates out from my nipples.
I’d been considering giving up the piercings entirely. They aren’t practical, they can catch on my clothes, and they don’t come with good memories.
I told myself that I’d kept them to remind myself never to return to New Valence.
Now, I’m glad I kept them because of how skillfully Zane is using them to make me soar.
I roll my hips against him.
His cologne mixes with the smell of blood—the blood on my back. I’d thoroughly washed my hands before I’d returned to the hotel.
One of his hands slides down, squeezing my cock through the tight leather pants. “Hands stay over your head,” he reminds me, then he’s kissing farther down.
I nod obediently, but I don’t speak.
He stops directly above the waistband of my pants, then I hear him sniff the air. “Are you bleeding?” he asks, his voice abruptly sharp.
I nod. “The cuts split while I was working today. Don’t worry, I can take it. Keep going.”
I have to keep going. There’s no slowing down, ever.
“I know you can,” Zane murmurs. “Stay where you are.”
He shifts over so he can turn on the lamp next to the bed, then studies my expression.
“Turn over,” he adds. “Onto your stomach.”
I stay where I am. “I haven’t moved my hands,” I point out. “Don’t ruin this, Zane.”
“I’m not ruining anything,” he retorts. “You’re going to roll over onto your stomach, and I’m going to have a look at the marks. If you’re going to die, it’ll be because I’ve done it on purpose, not because of infection.”
I roll my eyes, but I get onto my stomach. I rest my head against my hands and let my eyes slide closed. “I was going to re-bandage them before being ambushed.”
Zane pulls the back of my shirt up, then peels away the bandages. “You do look beautiful in red,” he murmurs.
“I’ll wear a red dress for you next time,” I suggest. “It really is one of my better colors.”
And it hides the blood so much easier than the silly white.
“It is,” he agrees. “Get up. We’re going to get these properly cleaned up before I bandage them again.” He stands, then offers his hand to me.
I take his hand without hesitation. My back twinges as I stand, but I ignore it.
“The shirt needs to be washed,” I mumble, like that’s in any way important right now.
“The shirt can wait,” he counters, leading me into the bathroom without letting go of my hand. He turns to face me, then helps me out of the shirt before his fingers go to the button of my leather pants. “Off.”
I unbutton and unzip the pants. I glance down at my boots. “Do you want me to remove those first, Sir?”
Shit.
He isn’t anything to me.
I’m not supposed to defer to him.
Zane tugs sharply at one of my nipple rings. “Are you being sarcastic?”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted my legs restricted.”
He gives me a look like he’s not sure he believes me, but he gestures to my boots. “Go on, then. Take them off. I want to see you strip entirely.”
I bend forward, the pain in my back barely registering, and untie my boot laces. I consider rolling my shoulders to make even more of the scabs crack and enticing Zane to lick the blood from my skin.
I finish removing my boots, then I stand for him again. My face feels hotter than before as I strip the rest of the way.
I lower my gaze and wait.
I don’t have any sarcastic words for him.
I don’t have any sass or brattiness.
It’s easier if I simply do as I’m told.
“Good boy,” Zane says, and I can’t tell if he’s mocking me or being serious.
Either way, my cock twitches with the beginnings of arousal.