Chapter Nine #2
My chest swelled with respect all while it blackened with the very real, very sick desire to claw at her confidence, shred her self-worth, and earn crystal tears of submission.
I want her.
The thought slapped me around the head.
I’d wanted her the moment I saw her, but that burn was nothing compared to the incineration I felt now.
Silence blanketed us heavily. The eyes of the many writhing sexual partners on the walls peered at us. My hands balled and quads tensed, ready to throw a punch if Victor struck her for her deliberate insolence.
You can’t.
Remember?
Even though my body itched to protect her from the shitstorm she’d created, I forced myself to unlock my muscles and take a step back.
She’d gotten me into this place, but I wasn’t a member yet.
All I had to do was keep up the ruse until I could figure out how to bypass whatever signal-scrambling technology Victor had.
Then my brother could swoop in and kill these bastards before I did something unforgivable.
Tension bit at my skin as Roland suddenly burst out laughing.
Loud and obnoxious, his voice echoed in the massive space.
“Holy shit. I think I’m in love with you.
” Marching to Ily, Roland grabbed her cheeks and yanked her into him.
He groaned as his lips descended on hers, kissing her all while she slammed her hands on his chest and shoved him hard.
He stumbled backward, his nails leaving red tracks on her cheeks as she spat a glob of spit on the tile. “Get your disgusting mouth off me.”
Roland just snickered and looked at Victor. “You do know what you’ve got here, right?”
Victor stilled and rubbed his chin. A nasty glint appeared in his gaze. “Enlighten me, Roland...what do I have here?”
Ily shot me a glance, fear finally making an appearance on her innocent, dangerous face.
I shook my head just once.
She’d well and truly fucked up now.
Roland stalked around her, running a finger up her arm, across her shoulders, and down her other arm. She shuddered but didn’t move, common sense screeching to be careful.
Tapping the cuff on her wrist, he said, “You have jewels of every colour and facet, Master Jeweler. You have some that bleed, some that break, and some that bow and take whatever we give without complaint. My favourite of your jewels, Mollie, has a bachelor’s in quantum physics, for goodness’ sake.
Your slaves aren’t drugged or diseased, like some.
They’re perfect in every way, but this one?
” He snatched a handful of Ily’s shoulder-length inky hair. “This one is special.”
“Fuck off,” Ily hissed, trying to extract herself from his hold.
“She certainly has...passion,” Victor murmured, never taking his eyes off Ily. He stared at her as if she were an exotic bird. A bird he didn’t know if he wanted to place in a cage or rip her wings off.
“Passion?” Roland groaned and grabbed his cock through his pants. “Merde, she’s dripping in it. I can taste it from here.”
“Roland,” I growled. “If anyone is tasting anything, it’s me.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He let himself go and cupped Ily’s cheek, holding her in a two-fisted grip. “You can get first fuck, but I want to be the first to take her into the snuffbox.”
Ice solidified in my gut.
Snuffbox?
What the flying fuck is that?
Ily made a noise of pure loathing as Roland kissed her again before letting her go and turning to Victor.
“Please, Victor. I beg you to let me be the one to initiate her. I’ll wait.
I’ll be patient. Henri can use her first, but please allow me to eat the rest of that passion.
I want to be the one who devours it all. ”
Ily sucked in a thin breath.
Victor continued to study her.
And I made the first mistake of many. “Whatever the snuffbox is...I want that right.” I stepped forward, standing to my full height. I towered over Roland, but Victor met my eyes. Harder to intimidate a guy who wasn’t shorter, but I did it through sheer will. “I’ll pay.”
“Pay?” Victor’s eyebrows shot up. “Pay what exactly?”
“Pay to fuck her in the snuffbox.”
Victor chuckled. “I have no doubt you have depraved daydreams, Ward, and I’m sure those fantasies will come out to play the longer you stay here, but...you aren’t ready for that. You have no idea what goes on in there.”
He went to pat me condescendingly on the shoulder, but I reared back and bared my teeth. “I know what I want.”
“I’m sure you do.” He smiled mockingly. “But the fact remains—”
“I want her bleeding.”
Everyone froze.
Ily’s honey-hazel gaze snapped to mine. “W-What?”
Ignoring her, I sank into the oily, revolting parts of me. Parts I never wanted to share with anyone: vile things, wicked things, heinous and hideous things.
I would never confess that sex had never satisfied me. Out of the number of partners I’d had, I’d always walked away frustrated. I couldn’t come unless I let my mind drown in the sickest shit. I couldn’t snuggle once we’d finished because my blood would itch for more, for worse, for wrong.
“Go on...” Victor said softly. “I’m listening. Tell me, Henri. Tell me what you’ve never told anyone. What you don’t even want to admit to yourself.”
Locking eyes with Ily, I gritted my teeth and swallowed hard. “I want to know what it feels like to hold her life in my hands. To fuck her to the brink of death. To bleed her to the edge of nothing. To bruise her until she—” I choked and shook my head. I dropped my eyes, unable to look at her.
“Finish,” Victor commanded. “You want to bruise her until...?”
I shuddered with self-loathing. “Until her very bones are imprinted with my ownership. I want to mark her, brand her. I want my teeth piercing her skin. I want her skin whipped bright red. I want...I want...” I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose.
“I want to make her scream because I get off on that. I want her pain. I want her tears. I want her fighting as I hold her down and prove to her that she belongs to me, and there is nothing, absolutely nothing, she can do about it.”
Soft, slicing quietness fell.
Ily didn’t move.
Roland smirked.
Victor grinned. “I liked your confession back at the club, but I like that one even more.”
I wanted to find some bleach and flush my mouth with it.
The faint scuffs of bare feet sounded on the travertine, growing louder and louder until a lean man with dusky skin, ebony eyes, and glossy brown hair appeared from one of the huge rooms leading from the foyer.
His hands swayed loosely at his sides, his gaze almost lazy and uncaring.
His linen pants and mostly-undone white shirt screamed decadence with an ‘I didn’t try at all’ carelessness.
He could’ve been a guest himself—some rich perverted asshole here to play—if it wasn’t for the matching collar around his throat and the gleaming cuffs on his wrists.
A jewel.
He kept walking until he joined us, oblivious that he stepped in my disgusting confessions oozing all over the floor. With a teasing smile at Roland and a wink at me, he bowed deeply at Victor, not raising until Victor touched him kindly on the head.
“Hello, Peter,” Victor preened. “Your timing is rather unfortunate as I have more to say to my new friend here, but...I will let you take her. Her name is Ily.”
Take her?
What the fuck?
Peter rose from his bow and smiled at Ily. “Hello.”
Ily backstepped and crossed her arms, the gold around her wrists clinking against each other. She didn’t return the greeting.
“How many are playing?” Victor asked, checking his diamond-encrusted Rolex.
“Ten are currently serving, Sir V,” Peter murmured. “Five are in the bathing chamber, six are being prepared for when their Masters awaken, and seven are still sleeping.”
Jesus Christ, is he talking about slaves?
Twenty-eight?
There are twenty-eight prisoners here?
Wait, twenty-nine. With him, it’s twenty-nine.
My gaze snapped to Ily.
No, thirty.
She’s number thirty.
I didn’t know why that made me hard or why I shivered with every awful secret I’d just shared. It sounded sick in my head, but having the words fly around this sinning foyer was a thousand times worse.
Goddammit, if Q knew...
I straightened my spine.
He doesn’t need to know.
What I did in the name of freeing these thirty slaves was not his concern. It was bad enough that he’d thrown me in here. If I managed to free them, then he owed me a fucking medal, no matter what I did in the process.
“Fine.” Victor nodded and dropped his arm. “Please oversee Ily’s initiation. Take her to see Dr Belford, and then a trip to the bathing chamber is in order. Once she’s clean, inside and out, you may feed her a small smoothie, but that is all.”
“Yes, Sir V.”
Moving toward Ily, Victor cupped her cheek and added, “She mustn’t faint at breakfast. I have a feeling this morning will be full of surprises. I want her alert and willing.”
“Let me go,” Ily breathed, her fight fading beneath the reality of her situation. “Please...I just want to go home.”
“There, there.” Victor kissed her forehead before taking her hand and placing it in Peter’s. “You are home, my sweetling.”
She shivered as the tall, lean male clasped her tightly.
“You know what to do.” Victor nodded at Peter. “See that it’s done.”
“Yes, Sir V,” Peter said. “I’ll bring her to the gardens soon. Any clothing preference?”
Victor pondered for a moment before saying, “Nothing.”
“Understood.” Peter tugged Ily’s hand. “Come on.”
“Nothing? Wait.” Ily pulled against him. “I don’t want to go. I—”
“I thought you said I had first rights,” I growled. “I want her to stay by me—”
“Enough, Henri. If you keep throwing your caveman bullshit around, I’ll break my promise,” Victor snapped. “Ily needs to prepare. And you...” He looked me up and down. “You are in for a treat.”