Chapter Thirty-One #2
Henri flashed a look at the circular black velvet couches ringing the dance floor. Red light turned the entire place into a hell realm, crimson illumination falling from chandeliers dripping over each table, making the Masters’ eyes ghoulish and their skin as sickly as the dead.
“Peter mentioned Faiza and the cleaners managed to place a few small bombs in vases in the foyer today,” I said. The pumping music offered a perfect chance to talk.
I kept a careful eye on Victor as he patted the shoulders of his guests on the small dance floor, gossiping with those who’d flown in this weekend.
Another week.
Seven days tiptoeing us closer to Christmas.
“I really wish Peter would stop encouraging that foolish enterprise.” Henri cupped my throat and dragged me into him.
Fisting my breast, he painted an image of a Master groping his jewel all while we plotted anarchy.
“I told him to stay simple. Fuel and fire. That’s it.
He should be focusing on weapon collection. ”
“Mollie and Rachel know their stuff. If they say it’s worth making them...then I don’t see the harm.”
He huffed and bent me backward, latching his teeth on my throat. “The harm will come if Victor catches one of them red-handed.”
I scrambled in his hold, giving off the impression of a jewel fighting her Master’s bite.
“The kitchen staff have already placed a few knives around Joyero.” I struggled harder as he dropped his hand between my legs and shoved me high onto my tiptoes.
The purple negligée and G-string I wore were no match for his questing fingers.
“Christ, Ily.” He groaned as he penetrated me, half for show, half because we always lost ourselves. “Do you always have to be so fucking wet for me?”
Whatever black magic existed on this island had well and truly cursed both of us.
My insides clenched around his touch, hypnotised and wanting, all while I snapped my legs together. A sudden flash of fear spilled from my tongue. “Do you...do you think we’re losing our minds?”
Henri froze, his finger deep inside me, his arm lashed tight around my back. “Losing our minds?”
I wanted to take those words back but...now I’d thought them, I worried.
Like...really worried.
“What if...” I sighed and kept pushing his shoulders for show. “What if we get out of here and we still need...”
“Need what?”
“This.” I beckoned to the mayhem and Masters. “What if we’re pretending too much? What if we’re infected like they are and—”
“I am infected. I’ve been infected my entire life.
” He let me go and withdrew his touch. Pulling a leash out of his pocket, he snapped it onto my collar.
“I know we’re playing a really dangerous game.
And I’m aware that once we get out of here, we’ll need to stop.
But...” He shrugged and pulled me onto the music-blaring dance floor.
“You don’t need to worry that you’re infected too. I know you’re doing this for me, and—”
“Hang on.” I slammed to a halt, keeping my head down so none of the other Masters thought I’d been the one to rule Henri. “You think I’m still doing this because of you? Not because I’ve grown addicted to it too?”
He stepped into me, grabbing my chin to tip my head back.
His gaze flicked from my mouth to my eyes, his face flashing with colour from the strobes.
He looked as if he wanted to argue, but he finally sighed.
“You want the truth? The fact that you get off on telling me no? The fact that you drip for me and come for me—despite being surrounded by bastards? That says you’re either an angel willing to do whatever it takes to free her friends or... ”
“Or?” I shivered.
“You are as sick as me.” He licked his lips and rushed, “But when I get you out of here, I promise you, Ily, I’ll find a way to cure you so you don’t have to spend the rest of your life struggling like I do.”
I wanted so, so badly to hug him.
To soothe him.
Breaking his hold on my chin, I kissed his palm as quickly as I could before he pulled his hand away. “What if I don’t want to be cured?”
His eyebrows shot into his hair. “You’re saying even when you’re back with your family. Back in your sleepy little village. Back with your brother and life that you’ll want to remind yourself of this horror by playing slave with me?”
I shuddered.
The dark infection in me answered with a flush of desire. “If it’s consensual, then—”
“It’s still me hurting you when you don’t deserve any kind of pain. Especially after enduring this place.” He hung his head. “I’m sorry, little nightmare, but...once we’re free, I never intend to hurt you again. Needs or no needs.”
Yanking me deeper onto the dance floor, he deliberately kept enough distance to avoid talking again.
I followed, the leash our only contact.
My mind raced as I studied his powerful back, his white shirt glowing pink, then green, then blue.
I longed to be in our room, hidden beneath our blankets, plotting war.
Last week, Henri had commanded the cleaning staff to teach us the schematics of this citadel.
He regularly dropped me off at the jewel quarters before heading to the library under the guise of writing, leaving me an hour or two to go over the mental blueprints each of us were learning.
With every whispered room, nook, and portico, Joyero slowly came alive in our minds, dotted with the bombs already hidden.
Some days, Peter would arrange dance lessons, using the talent he’d learned from a Latin exchange student at school to hide the fact that we needed to whisper so closely.
As each of us took turns dipping and swaying, we’d trade information on which guard seemed particularly disgruntled and those who looked like they could be turned.
Mollie also worked with one of the new boys, Carlos.
Peter had told the new jewels about our ticking countdown a fortnight ago.
A few had agreed to help. Others had huddled deeper into their terror.
But Carlos—who’d been studying engineering—worked closely with Mollie, highlighting what walls and corners were load bearing and where best to place the next lot of presents.
Jerking me to a stop, Henri grabbed me around the nape and made me trip into him. “Remember...you say Khushi if I go too far, okay?”
My eyes flared before I nodded. “Do you think tonight might be bad?”
“I have no idea, but—”
“Ah, Henri!” Victor strolled toward us, gifting Henri a flute of champagne. Another man kept pace at Victor’s side. A younger, handsome blond who looked more at home in the surf than in a rapist’s nightclub on a hidden island.
Vic waved a hand at the man. “Travis here was just saying how I haven’t played Topaz Torment in a while. He’s keen. Are you?”
Henri stiffened and let me go.
I tripped a little, dropping my eyes like a good little jewel.
What the hell did Topaz Torment entail?
And just how badly would I be bleeding by the end of it?
“Sure.” Henri accepted the champagne and tossed it back in a single mouthful. “Sounds fun.”
“You don’t even know what the rules are yet, mate.” Travis smirked, his accent heavily Australian.
“I’ve learned that each of Vic’s games are well worth playing.” Henri pointed at the blue braille scar on my thigh. The sapphire dust glittered in the H branding me as his.
“Ah, you lucky duck. I’ve heard about Sapphire Scars.” Travis toasted Henri with his beer bottle. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.” Nudging Vic with his shoulder, he grinned. “Fancy letting me scar Talia?”
Victor sipped his champagne. “Perhaps. For now, don’t be greedy. I’ve agreed to play Topaz Torment. How about be grateful for that, hmm?” Before Travis could reply, Victor smiled slyly. “Henri? If you’d be so kind and allow your jewel to come with me. We’ll get started.”
Henri’s energy pulled shadows from the nightclub, coiling around him like a typhoon. “Why do you need to take her?”
“You’re about to find out, aren’t you?” Victor reached for me.
Henri jerked my leash, making me trip into him. “I’d rather know before—”
“Henri.” Victor clucked his tongue. “Haven’t I been exceedingly accommodating to you? I’ve tolerated your little whispers and enjoyed watching you fuck her. But the matter still remains, I believe you’re in love with her. This little game will help—”
“I’m not fucking in love with her.” Henri crossed his arms, the leash in his hands cutting my collar into my neck. “I’m just obsessed with her.” His voice turned crude and crass. “She milks my dick real good, Vic. Is that a crime?”
“No of course not. But...I’m doing this for your benefit.
I told you, my dear friend, you won’t be truly free until you’re cast from such human emotions.
This might be the beginning of that freedom.
” Tapping Henri on the cheek, Victor winked.
“You’re still too close to that line of caring.
Tonight, it’s time to give you another teeny, tiny push. ”