Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
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C ora
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M y gaze flips to Kian , but his attention is already on me, his glacial green eyes focused on the bare breast Sinclair has just unveiled. Under his gaze, my nipple feels as if it has a pulse of its own, beating maddeningly against my heart.
He drags his eyes from my nipple to my lips. I die a little death when he uses his thumb to wipe at the side of his mouth before discarding me again.
A crazy sensation flicks against my clit. The ache is unbearable, but I don’t move. I immediately try to cover myself again, but I stop mid-movement at the sound of Flinn’s voice.
“Don’t,” Flinn says. The dominant authority in his tone sends a dark thrill through me. My gaze snaps to him. If I thought he could be my ally, I was wrong.
I try to regulate my breathing, but I’m a heaving mess, sitting at their dining room table with one breast exposed and a painfully hard nipple that makes me want to cry.
My lips quiver, and I almost give in to the tears pooling in my eyes, but I don’t. I’m stronger than this.
It’s only then that I notice the meticulously laid table. The china alone costs more than I’d make in three years as a waitress at the fast-food restaurant where I work.
On the plate before me is a prime piece of steak, cooked to perfection. The rich aroma of the meat, buttery and charred, fills my nostrils. My senses are confused; part of me is fixated on the food in front of me, while the other desperately wants to cover myself.
I can’t cover myself, but I can eat. And I do. I don’t wait for permission to start. I’m barely aware as they each take their seats. Kian sits at the head of the table on my right, Sinclair sits next to me on the left, and Flinn sits opposite us.
They don’t deserve my etiquette. Besides, my hunger wins, and fuck manners. I rip through the steak; it’s soft and juicy, and the mashed potatoes and gravy on the side are just as delicious.
I don’t care that they’re watching me eat as if they’ve never seen anyone do this before. Again, I don’t care.
“Slow down, sweetheart. I don’t want you choking... well, not on that kind of meat,” Sinclair says, and I roll my eyes. I may be a virgin and not really know how to be sexy or seduce a man, but I read books.
“Why? If I’m going to sit here with my breast hanging out at the dinner table for your perverted amusement, I can eat this steak however I want.”
“Touché,” Flinn murmurs, but something else catches my attention. Did I hear Kian chuckle? No. The man is made of stone. Even the slightest hint of a smile would crack his shell and turn him to ash.
“Tell us about yourself, Cora,” Flinn says conversationally, as if this type of meal is absolutely normal for them.
“What do you want to know?” I ask haughtily, taking a sip of my water instead of the glass of wine set out for me. Although the urge to down the whole bottle of the expensive-looking wine is very tempting.
I repeat the words that have become my mantra: What I don’t have to do is play nice.
“Maybe I can start with my view on how barbaric this whole thing is. How terrible, beastly, and monstrous it is. Only something an utter brute of a man would consider doing. If you had any decency, you would let me go.”
The words pour from me, shaky and uneven, but I say them loud.
“Are you talking about the pleasure debt?” Sinclair asks, the grin on his face widening. I hate that he finds me so amusing, as if I’m his personal jester. “In that case, consider us the worst of all the brutes to ever exist.”
“The pleasure debt has been a form of punishment for the Nix mafia since the beginning of time,” Flinn says. “It’s a small price to pay, considering the alternative is the man’s life. A slice of his pride and joy is better than his untimely elimination.”
“Maybe that’s an indication that you need to rewrite your history. It’s archaic.”
“It’s our tradition,” Kian says darkly, warningly. “And again, a better alternative for a man who shoots his mouth off when he shouldn’t.”
Am I always going to be this shocked every time Kian says anything to me?
“It’s an opportunistic, egotistical trap created by sick men wielding power with atrocious ruthlessness,” I say directly to him. I force him to hold my glare. I’m not going to back down.
But inside me, I’m a quivering mess. His gaze doesn’t waver, he holds me, drowning me naked in all his maleness. My eyes glitter as tears stings the corners. I might be angrier but he’s more powerful. They all three are. But it doesn’t change anything.
I’ve known about this dynamic since the day I was born. I was born into it, dammit. Just men exercising their right over other men with no power on their side. I hate it. I hate them.
“Tell us how you really feel,” Sinclair coaxes, sitting back in his chair and stroking his jaw.
“It’s nothing but a twisted, salacious game, a sentence you dish out so you can fuck some trembling virgin and call it punishment against her family. How can you live with yourself?”
“Very happily, thank you very much, especially if our cocks are going to know what the inside of your sweet virgin pussy feels like. And that mouth of yours. Especially when we hear you scream our names as you come for us, sweet, beautiful Cora.”
Blood rushes to my cheeks so fast it makes me feel dizzy. I picture Sinclair’s coarse words, the three of them touching me all at once, tearing me apart, turning my universe into an inferno, and leaving me to burn. No. It will never happen that way.
“I will never scream your names. Ever.”
I’ve lost my momentum, my bravado. My voice is small and quivering.
“Do you know you’re a major contributing factor to why William Arlington retired?” Sinclair says as he begins to clear the table.
“He still had some honor in him. He resigned because he knew he would have let you go, and that would signaled a weakness in the leadership of consortium. But we’re not burdened with the same kind of conscience, Cora.
We’re not letting you go, so are you ready to deliver your statement of atonement?
We’ve been more than patient,” Flinn says.
Ah, yes, the statement of atonement. Words I’ve been forced to memorize, meant to be delivered to the head––now heads––of the consortium. Once I say it, there’s no going back. They’ll retaliate, take their vengeance in the form of pleasure with their cocks inside me.
What happens if say nothing? How far can I push them?
I shake my head and say nothing.
“So be it.”
I lose my breath when Sinclair pulls my chair out with such minimal effort I could have been weightless. Before I can protest, he picks me up and swings me over his shoulder. My world falls apart as he carries me to a desk, then sets me down on my feet.
My attempts to break free are futile. But my panic escalates when, seemingly out of nowhere, Flinn produces two coils of silky red ropes.