Chapter Twelve
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Ily
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I FUMBLED AT THE SHEER dressing gown Peter had given me when I’d stepped out of the colossal bath, drawing it tighter around myself. Despite the strange connection that’d formed between us and the contradictory awkward-ease I found being naked around him, I didn’t feel well.
I flushed with nausea as he brushed my hair, dried my neck where the collar trapped water, and then handed me a berry smoothie that was delightfully thick and heavenly sweet.
I drank it because my body craved sustenance, but it didn’t stop the lashings of sickness brought on by sheer mindless terror.
Every tick of the clock shoved me closer and closer to something I wouldn’t survive.
My mind threatened to crack. My heart revolted with palpitating skips.
Any wetness Henri had shamefully drawn from me dried up, forcing me to come face to face with the truth that Peter might be true to his word about caring for me, but it didn’t mean I wouldn’t be hurt.
Badly.
So badly, the others resorted to drugs to endure.
I choked back tears as Peter squeezed my hand and guided me from the bathing chamber.
We stayed silent as we walked through palatial rooms. I tried to pay attention as he pointed out the communal bedroom for all the jewels, the small kitchen with blenders, fruits, and raw vegetables, and the walk-in wardrobe full of clothes fit for a prince or princess.
The gown Peter had given me swirled around my legs and dragged behind me with a delicate train, making it seem as if I’d stepped into a different era.
The palest shade of periwinkle set off the inkiness of my hair, clashing with the gold in my eyes.
The belt dug into my waist, lashed far tighter than normal as if I could strap myself into the fabric and be safe.
Being dressed eased some of my brewing panic, even if the material was so sheer the shadows of my nipples and pussy could be seen.
I sagged with another wash of despair.
I’d had a Brazilian for Sam’s benefit, not these nameless bastards. I’d ensured my body was desirable, just in case we rekindled the spark on our romantic trip to Paris.
I should’ve trusted my instincts.
Should’ve known when I’d spread my legs for the wax-beautician that what I felt wasn’t excitement to sleep with Sam but obligation. A four-year-old obligation to be the perfect girlfriend who got on her knees when she was told.
Oh God.
Tears burned as I imagined a faceless man shoving me down and sticking his cock down my throat.
Would that happen?
When would it happen?
Now?
Today?
A minute from now?
A whimper escaped me.
Peter sighed softly. “It will be okay. I’m not sure what Sir V has planned for you but...new jewels are treated well. You’ll be in demand. That demand usually ensures you are treated kindly until you’re a little more broken in.”
My whimper turned into a cry. “Peter, please...please don’t take me to them.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“You do. You do have a choice.”
He laughed blackly. “None of us have a choice. Do you think we’d still be here if we did?”
“Why do you obey? What’s stopping you from barricading yourself in the bathing chamber and refusing to do what they want?”
He huffed as if I was stupid. “It’s called training for a reason, Ily.
We’re well trained. And you will be too by the time they’re through.
” He softened his voice. “We all arrive like you. Stubborn and determined to accept pain out of principle. But let me tell you, you’ll soon jump when they summon. ”
“No, I won’t. I refuse to do what they want. I won’t let them do this to me without a fight. No fucking way.”
“A fight you’ll lose. Every single time.”
“It’s better to try than to—”
“Wrong.” He jerked me to a stop. “It’s better to live without broken bones or your skin in ribbons from punishment.
Believe me. We’ve all learned that lesson, so learn from us without having to find out for yourself.
” Pulling me back into a walk, he snapped, “You think fighting makes this better? Wrong, it only makes it worse. If you fight, you pay. It’s as simple as that.
” He shuddered. “I’d rather be allowed to sleep with my fellow jewels with blankets and comfort, than spend a week in the icy dungeons with nothing.
I’d rather bathe in steam showers, than rot in my own filth. ”
“You’re choosing those false gifts over doing what’s right.”
“What’s right?” He bared his teeth and stopped again.
“What’s right is doing whatever it takes to exist. It’s not weakness that makes us comply but strength, don’t you see?
Now shut up and surrender that temper of yours.
If you go to Sir V with this much attitude, I dread to think what he’ll do to you. ”
My heart lodged in my throat as I tripped beside him.
My bare feet padded over stone slabs. Rock walls bracketed us as we passed by oversized sconces with fairies hanging from them, their wings shredded and petal dresses ruined, signifying the destruction I was about to face.
I tugged on Peter’s hand again, struggling to breathe, desperate to run. “Stop. Wait. You’re going too fast.”
“We’re late. I told you that.” He squeezed my fingers and kept pulling me down the achingly long corridor. Doors lined like sentries, all of them closed. No natural light touched us, and the flickering shadows of the sconces made it seem as if I walked to my execution.
Every few metres, a guard watched us pass with a cold narrowing of their eyes. They had guns, but...if we worked together, couldn’t we commandeer one and overpower them?
“Why don’t you revolt?” I asked quietly, clamping my hand on his cuffed wrist, trying to slow him down. “If there are so many slaves, why not organise an uprising?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Your imagination is going to get you in trouble.”
“Or get us out of here.”
“You can’t take a step they don’t approve of, and it’s not just the guards ensuring we stay in-line.
” Glowering up the corridor where another two guards waited for us to march past, he stopped for the third time and hooked his finger into the heavy collar around my neck.
“I stopped Kirk before he could finish the rules, but...somewhere around the ninth or tenth instruction is this one: you can’t run because the collar works like those farm dog invisible fences.
You get too close to a boundary, and you get zapped.
You’re unconscious before you even realise what happened. ”
“They’re electrified?” I gulped. “But—”
“You can’t escape while wearing the collar, and under no circumstances are you to try to take it off.
You do, and you die. I’ve seen it. I’ve smelled the flesh sizzling from those who thought they could escape.
” Pulling me toward him, his minty breath fanned over my lips. “Want to know what happens?”
I shook my head, my stomach turning inside out.
He told me anyway.
“They’re burned from the inside out.” He sighed heavily.
“You’ll soon learn that if you don’t obey a Master or don’t move quick enough, you’re made to without them lifting a finger.
” He let me go. “Until you’ve writhed on the ground with fire in your blood, you won’t understand why the very thought of an uprising fills us all with terror. ”
He shuddered and grabbed my hand again. “Now, come on.”
My pulse pounded as he dragged me farther and farther until we entered the huge, echoey foyer again. My eyes instantly searched for Henri despite my loathing.
No one.
The vast hall remained empty apart from the salacious tapestries.
“This way.” Peter pulled me across the stunning tiles, past the entwined staircases, and through more rooms dripping with brocade, gild-work, and decadent silver wallpaper. Intricately carved fireplaces gaped like portals into hell, just waiting to devour screaming sacrifices.
The farther we travelled, the more sunlight kissed us until we stepped through glass doors pushed open like a folding fan, inviting the morning to tumble into the stone-trapped castle.
I froze on the threshold.
The temptation to rub my eyes and see if this was all some kind of twisted fairytale overwhelmed me. “W-What is this place?”
Peter smiled. “A slap to your senses, isn’t it? The most beautiful gardens you’ll ever see full of the worst kinds of beasts.” He didn’t tug me forward, letting me drink in the splendour.
The imposing ten-metre-high walls, with their parapets and patrolling guards, cocooned us in all directions. The castle, with its spires, gargoyles, and chimney stacks, sprawled nonchalantly throughout the most surreal, almost fantastical space.
To the left, a marble patio stretched as far as the eye could see, complete with tables, chairs, and black umbrellas to shield breakfast goers from the strong new day sun.
Waitstaff darted between guests, wafting the scents of coffee and sweet pastries.
The patio spilled onto grass so perfectly green and so faultlessly mowed, it looked fake.
It spread like a living carpet into the distance where hedges as tall as houses loomed, carved into animals with clever pruning.
A bird in full flight, its wings casting shadows on the manicured green.
A horse in mid-gallop, frozen in time. A panda squatting like a stuffed toy, chewing on a bamboo stick.
Snaking around each of the hedges and skirting the edge of the wall, a grey running track beckoned to slap against pounding sneakers and grant an illusion of freedom.
Two girls pushed themselves, running with fists clenched and sweat gleaming.
Their tight sports bras and running shorts revealed their figures in shocking pink and green Lycra.
Three men lounged in deck chairs like spectators around the track, sipping on drinks and pointing out attributes of the girls as they sprinted past.
One undid his trousers and pulled out his cock, stroking it in full view of everyone. Snapping his fingers, another girl standing leashed to his deck chair dropped to her knees and took him in her mouth.
My stomach revolted against my stupidly ingested smoothie.
I looked away.
I...gasped.
A huge swimming pool shaped like a natural pond took my breath away. Boulders and waterfalls, lily pads and sparkling pebbles; it looked as if it belonged in a mythical forest, yet it was here, in the middle of a whorehouse.
Bending into me, Peter muttered, “The gardens keep going. There’s a maze, another restaurant, three gazebos, two orchards, an insane vegetable garden, and...” He curled his upper lip, hatred etching his face. “The snuffbox.”
My ears pricked on that word.
I instantly hated it.
It reminded me of the medieval terms I heard on a daily basis working in the Tower of London. I didn’t care that it was just another word for jewelry box. All I could hear was the word snuff, over and over again.
To murder.
To kill.
To assassinate, destroy, and extinguish.
“Have...” I swallowed hard. “Have you been taken in there?”
He looked away, unable to hide his shiver. “Yep.”
I waited for him to tell me more, but his lips thinned and our complicated friendship frayed. I immediately scrambled for it, desperate to keep our frail bond alive because he was all I had. “I’m sorry, Peter. I’m sorry for what they’ve done to you.”
He gave me a sad smile, his gaze darting back to mine.
Another moment passed between us that probably shouldn’t exist before he sighed and shot a glance into the gardens.
Bracing his shoulders, he stepped into me.
Ever so gently, he tucked loose hair behind my ear.
“You asked me if my real name was Peter...it’s not.
” He licked his lips and shrugged. “Yah Paavak hai.” (It’s Paavak.)
Purifying.
His name meant purifying, fire, brilliant, pure...
What a cruel, cruel joke to be trapped in the most unpure place on earth.
“Y-You speak Hindi?” I whispered.
“I was born in Leeds, but my family is from Jaipur.” He leaned closer.
“But you? I don’t know where you’ve come from, and I don’t know who you are.
” He let me go and took a careful step back.
“But you have my word, I’ll do whatever I can to keep you breathing.
Whoever you are, Ily, forget about her for now.
Be whoever you need to be in here. Accept your body’s needs.
Embrace the lust that will make you mad.
Enjoy being used if you can. Turn off the part of you that judges and says what’s right and wrong.
No regrets, no shame. Enjoy it. Hate it.
Crave it. Go with it... jeevit rahane ke lie aapako jo bhee banana hai vah banen.
” (Be whoever you need to be to survive.)
Not giving me time to reply, he snatched my cuffed wrist and dragged me into the gardens.
Men stopped to stare.
Whispers followed us.
Peter didn’t stop until he climbed the three steps onto the terrace, yanked me to the Master Jeweler sipping on a dainty cup of coffee, then tore off my blue gown, threw it away, and forced me to kneel, naked and speechless, before monsters.