11. Syn
11
SYN
I barely make it to my room before my knees give out. Leaning against the closed door, I slide down to the floor, my legs trembling from the strain of holding myself together. The air is cool against my naked skin, the opposite of the heat burning through me—a mix of rage, fear, and unfulfilled desire.
My fingers trace the slight indentation on my hip where Declan’s knife had pressed. No blood was drawn, but the memory of cold steel against my skin sends another shiver through me. I’m furious with myself for the way my body responded to him, to that dangerous game.
“Just a sex doll,” I whisper.
I push myself to my feet and stagger to the adjoining bathroom, desperate to wash away the evidence of what just happened. The soft lighting reveals my reflection in the mirror—flushed cheeks, wild eyes, marks forming on my hips where Declan’s fingers dug in.
The shower is enormous, similar to the one Declan washed me in. I turn the water as hot as I can stand it and step under the spray, hissing as it hits my sensitive skin. Declan’s cum trickles down my thighs, a visceral reminder of my submission. I scrub myself almost raw, as if I could wash away not just his touch but my body’s betrayal.
My hands shake as I massage shampoo into my hair. I can’t get the image of Tarquin watching us out of my mind—those cold blue eyes taking in every detail, assessing, calculating. What was he thinking? Did he enjoy watching Declan use me like that? Was he jealous? Aroused?
I rinse my hair and lean against the cool tile wall, letting the water cascade over my body. The throbbing between my legs hasn’t subsided. Both Tarquin and Declan denied me release, and my body is desperate for it. Almost without conscious thought, my hand slides down my stomach, fingers finding my swollen clit.
“Fuck,” I whisper, circling it slowly.
I close my eyes and try to think of anything but the two alphas I’ve been brought in to service for the next week.
My fingers work faster as pleasure builds quickly, urgently. I cry out loudly as the orgasm finally crashes over me, my legs nearly buckling with the force of it. The release is physical but brings no real satisfaction—just a hollow reminder of how quickly these alphas have got under my skin.
I stand under the spray of water, trying to gather my shattered composure. When I finally step out, my skin is pink and tender from the heat and my vigorous scrubbing. I wrap myself in a plush towel, patting myself dry with mechanical movements.
The bedroom beyond feels like a sanctuary compared to what I’ve just experienced. I pull out the pyjamas I brought with me, shorts and a floaty tee and put them on before I sink onto the edge of the bed, running my fingers through my damp hair. My mind replays every moment with these alphas so far. Neither of them wanted me to give them pleasure. They took it themselves, and that is a new one. Usually, they demand I ride them until I come all over them so they can feel my slick coating them before they dump their cum. Normally, I have to work for it, not just lie back and let myself be fucked. It’s an interesting dynamic, and I wonder if it will shift. Will they eventually want me to actively participate instead of being somewhere to shove their cocks?
I frown, trying to make sense of their strange behaviour. Tarquin treats me like a business transaction, cold and distant, yet I’ve caught those flashes of something else beneath his icy exterior. Declan... I shiver, remembering the knife against my skin. He’s dangerous, unhinged perhaps, but there’s something deliberate in his cruelty. Like he’s testing me.
My phone buzzes on the bed, startling me. I reach for it, my heart sinking when I see the No Caller ID.
“Jeremy,” I whisper, answering it immediately.
“Where are you?” he asks sharply.
“Excuse me?” I frown at the phone.
“Why aren’t you at home? You’ve been gone all day?”
My blood turns to ice. How does he know that?
“I’m working,” I grit out. “For your money.”
“For my money?” he scoffs. “Don’t you want Amélie to have nice things? A safe place to live? Food?”
Fuck you! The scream in my head is hard to contain. Fuck you to hell and back!
“What will it take to end this?” I ask steadily, instead. I can start this negotiation. I’ve got half a million pounds to start this.
“End this?” he asks with genuine surprise. “You don’t have enough.”
“Please, Jeremy,” I whisper. “Please tell me how much. I will get it.”
A long silence follows, and I almost think he’s hung up.
“Two million,” he finally says, voice casual as if discussing the weather. “That’s what it will take for me to disappear from your life. And Amélie’s.”
I close my eyes, gripping the phone so tightly my knuckles turn white. Two million pounds. It might as well be twenty million. Even with this week’s payday, I’ll only have half.
“One million,” I whisper.
“One million?” Jeremy’s laughter is sharp, cutting through the phone line like a blade. “Don’t insult me, Syn. Two million or nothing changes.”
I press my palm against my forehead, trying to control my breathing. “I can get you a million, Jeremy. I can get you one million by the end of the week. Full transfer in exchange for my daughter.”
“ Our daughter, and I’m forced to ask for her safety. Wherethe fuckdoyou think you're going to get that kind of money on such short notice?”
“I don’t owe you any explanations.”
“You do if you’re planning to steal it and hand it over to me. That makes me an accomplice.”
“I’m not going to steal it. I’m working for it. Okay? For Amélie.”
“One million from a whoring job?” His tone is incredulous. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe your lying mouth, bitch.”
I flinch at his words but steel myself. “Believe what you want. One million is what I can get you. Take it or leave it.”
“I want two.”
“I can’t pay you two,” I spit out.
“Then you’d better figure out a way to get it because that is the end of this. You asked, I answered. No negotiations.” He hangs up, and I choke back the sob of utter grief. I should’ve known he’d be so greedy. I should have thought it through. I should have offered him an amount first. I should’ve…
The howl of rage and desperation that comes out isn’t something I can stop. I don’t care if the alphas hear me. My heart is being ripped apart, and any hope I had has been dashed. Shaking, I throw the phone to the bed and curl up, distraught as my body shakes and my tears soak the sheets.