Chapter 1 #2
My skin feels too tight, too hot.
Between my legs, I'm already aching, and I haven't even seen what's down there yet.
This is insane, the remnant of my rational mind whispers. You don't know what's down there. You could get hurt. You could ? —
Good, the darker part of me responds. Finally.
The elevator slows.
My reflection stares back at me from every angle—flushed cheeks, dilated pupils, chest rising and falling too quickly.
I look like prey that's already been caught—or prey that wants to be.
A soft chime, and the doors begin to part.
The first thing that hits me is the sound—a low thrum of music mixed with something else.
Something that makes my stomach clench and my thighs press together.
If the main floor was intense, Hell is overwhelming.
The lighting is different here—darker, redder, making everything look like it's been dipped in blood.
The music is lower, a bass line that feels like a heartbeat.
But it's the other sounds that make my breath catch.
Crying.
Begging.
The sharp crack of impact on flesh.
Moans that could be pleasure or pain, or both.
There are fewer people here, but they move with purpose.
A naked woman crawls past on her hands and knees, tied to a leash held by a man in an expensive suit.
Another woman is pressed against a wall, tears streaming down her face as someone whispers in her ear.
She's nodding, consenting, but the fear is real.
My body responds in ways that should horrify me.
Heat pools between my legs.
My breath comes faster.
This is what I've been looking for without knowing it.
The honesty of it.
The rawness.
No one here is pretending things are safe or soft or kind.
A hand grabs my arm.
"You're in the wrong place, sweetheart."
I turn to find a massive man with neck tattoos and dead eyes.
He looks at me like I'm a lamb who's wandered into a wolves' den.
Which I suppose I am.
"I'm exactly where I want to be."
He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You have no idea what happens down here. This isn't Heaven. There are no safe words that matter. No limits that can't be pushed. Some people who come down here don't?—"
"Don't leave unchanged?" I interrupt. "Good. I don't want to be unchanged."
He studies me for a long moment. "Boss might be interested in you. Or he might let the others have you. Either way, once you're noticed down here, there's no going back upstairs. Last chance to leave."
Boss.
Someone runs this level, then.
Someone with enough power to decide who stays and who goes.
Who gets protected and who gets thrown to the wolves.
"I'm staying."
The man shrugs and releases my arm. "Your funeral, princess."
He melts back into the shadows, and I'm alone again.
Except I'm not, not really.
I can feel eyes on me, assessing, calculating.
Fresh meat in a place that devours the innocent.
Good thing I haven't been innocent in eight years.
I move deeper into the space, passing rooms with open doors that reveal glimpses of scenes that make my pulse race.
A woman is suspended from the ceiling while two men use her.
A man on his knees, begging for something I can't quite hear.
Blood on someone's back from a whipping that wasn't playful.
This is real. This is dangerous.
This is perfect.
That's when I see him.
He's across the room, and everyone else might as well disappear.
Tall—six-foot-three at least—in a suit that costs more than most people's cars.
Black hair, sharp cheekbones, a jaw that could cut glass.
But it's his presence that stops me cold.
He doesn't just occupy space; he commands it.
Everyone moves around him like planets orbiting a sun, careful not to get too close, unable to look away.
He's beautiful in the way a weapon is beautiful.
Elegant. Lethal. Designed to destroy.
He has a woman on her knees beside his chair, his hand in her hair while he speaks to another man.
Business, by the look of it.
The man is sweating, nervous, while he—the Boss, he has to be—looks bored.
His fingers absently stroke through the woman's hair like she's a pet.
Then his eyes find mine.
Steel gray, almost silver in this light.
They pin me in place from across the room.
His hand stills.
His conversation stops mid-sentence.
The other man follows his gaze to me, but the Boss makes a subtle gesture, and the man immediately looks away.
Everyone looks away.
Everyone except him.
And me.
He says something to the man, who scrambles away like he's been dismissed from an audience with a king.
The woman at his feet starts to move, but he holds her in place with the hand in her hair, never breaking eye contact with me.
I should look away.
Every instinct screams that this is a predator, that I'm prey, that I should run.
But I don't.
I take a step toward him instead.
His lips curve in what might be a smile.
Or a threat.
He releases the woman with a word I can't hear.
She crawls away, and now there's nothing between us but space that feels electric.
He doesn't gesture for me to come closer.
He doesn't need to.
I'm already moving.
The crowd parts without seeming to, creating a path between us.
I can feel their attention, their curiosity.
Who is this girl walking toward him like she has a death wish?
I stop, just out of reach.
Close enough to see that his eyes have flecks of darker gray, like storm clouds.
Close enough to smell expensive cologne and something underneath it—danger, violence, power.
"You don't belong here." His voice is like aged whiskey, smooth but with a burn.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
"Because it's true." He tilts his head, studying me. "Heaven is upstairs. Pretty girls play pretty games up there. Down here, little lamb, we play for keeps."
Little lamb. Like I'm helpless. Like I'm innocent.
"I belong in the dark," I say, the words coming from somewhere deep inside me. "I've been living in it for eight years. The only difference is that down here, everyone admits it."
Something flickers in his eyes.
Recognition? Interest?
I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye contact.
This close, his presence is overwhelming.
He radiates controlled violence, leashed power that could be released at any moment.
"What's your name?"
"Selene."
He doesn't offer his own.
He doesn't need to.
Everyone here knows who he is.
"Selene." He tastes my name like wine. "Do you know what happens to lost little lambs in Hell?"
"They get devoured."
"Yes." He reaches out, fingers ghosting along my jaw, not quite touching. "They get torn apart. Used. Broken. And no one comes to save them."
"Good." The word escapes before I can stop it. "I don't want to be saved."
His hand drops.
For a moment, something passes over his face—something that looks almost like surprise.
Then it's gone, replaced by an expression that makes my thighs clench.
"Prove it."
"How?"
He sits back down, legs spread, arms resting on the chair like a throne. "Watch."
He gestures to someone, and a woman is brought forward.
She's crying, makeup running down her face, and there's real fear in her eyes.
A man follows—one of the ones who was talking business earlier.
"This one betrayed me," the Boss says conversationally, like we're discussing the weather. "Sold information to my competitors. The man she sold it to is dead, of course. But she... she requires a different kind of punishment."
The woman sobs. "Please, Mr. Wolfe, I'm sorry, I?—"
He holds up a hand, and she goes silent.
"I'm going to give you a choice, Selene.
" He's watching me, not the crying woman.
"You can leave now. Go back upstairs. Forget you ever came down here.
Or you can stay and watch what happens to those who betray me.
But if you stay, if you watch, you're mine for tonight.
No backing out. No safe words. No limits I don't set. "
The rational part of my brain screams at me to run.
This is insane.
This man is dangerous.
This place is dangerous.
I don't know what he plans to do to that woman, what he plans to do to me.
But the rational part of my brain died eight years ago in my parents' blood.
"I'm staying."
Another flash of something in his eyes.
He nods to the man, who forces the woman to her knees.
What happens next should horrify me.
The man uses her roughly while she cries, while the Boss—Wolfe—watches with detached interest.
But he's not watching her.
He's watching me.
Watching as my breathing quickens.
As my pupils dilate.
As I press my thighs together.
He's cataloging every reaction, filing it away.
"Come here." His voice cuts through the woman's sobbing.
I move toward him on unsteady legs.
When I'm close enough, he pulls me onto his lap, my back to his chest, forcing me to watch the scene in front of us.
"This arouses you." It's not a question.
His breath is hot against my ear. "Watching her fear. Her pain. Her humiliation."
I should deny it. Should be horrified at myself.
"Yes."
His hand slides around my throat, not squeezing, just resting there.
A warning. A promise.
"Tell me why you really came down here, little lamb. What are you looking for?"
The truth spills out before I can stop it. "I want to feel something. I want to stop being numb. I want someone to see the darkness in me and not try to fix me."
His fingers tighten slightly on my throat. "I don't fix broken things, Selene. I break them further."
"Good."
The woman's punishment ends.
She's dragged away, still crying.
The Boss—Wolfe—doesn't even look at her.
His attention is entirely on me.
"Stand up."
I obey immediately, surprising myself.
He stands too, towering over me. "If you come with me now, you're mine for three nights. No more, no less. You'll do everything I say, when I say it. You'll take everything I give you. And when it's over, you leave and never come back."
"Why three nights?"
"Because that's how long it'll take."
"For what?"
His smile is sharp, dangerous. "To ruin you for anyone else."
My breath catches. Between my legs, I'm soaked. "Yes."
"Yes, what?"