Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118042 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 590(@200wpm)___ 472(@250wpm)___ 393(@300wpm)
Flipping Henri onto his stomach, Victor pinned him down with his fists on his lower back. “Ready, mon ami? Ready to please me?”
Henri struggled. “Get the fuck off me.”
He kicked.
He grabbed a butter knife and tried to stab Victor in the thigh. “Fuck you. Fuck you!”
“Think you’ll find I’m about to fuck you.” Victor cackled. “Isn’t that what you said to Ilyana one night?”
Henri lost it.
He fought, but…he was no match.
Mostly starved, hopelessly beaten, weak, and tortured to the point of insanity, he didn’t stand a chance.
And it’s my fault.
All my fault.
He’d allowed himself to be abused because of me.
Hurt because of me.
Raped because of me.
“Stop it! Please!” I tried to get free from the chain imprisoning me on the wall. I scratched at my awful collar and sold my soul to the devil if only I could take his place. If only I could save him, protect him. “Take me instead!”
“You’re no better than a blow-up doll.” Victor smirked, running his hand over Henri’s bare ass. “He’s going to be so much better.”
I sobbed as he kicked Henri’s legs apart.
I suffocated on a scream as Victor wrenched down his trousers, fisted his cock, and—
I shot upright.
Panting.
Sweating.
Breaking.
Just a nightmare.
Just a dream.
Another one.
One of so many.
Every night, I screamed in my sleep.
Every morning, I woke hoarse from begging monsters to stop hurting him when I couldn’t utter a word in real life.
My sheets dripped with sick panic. My heart raced so fast it skipped and palpitated.
Falling back into my fear-damp sheets, I curled into a ball and sobbed.
I was so tired.
So, so tired of this horror.
Of watching Victor break my twin flame into pieces.
Pieces I did my best to gather up and hold safe but were slowly snuffing out.
I didn’t know how much longer I could survive it.
How much longer Henri could survive it.
A key slipped into my door.
The lock snicked open.
I huddled under my blankets as footfalls entered my room.
The guards were early.
It was barely dawn—
Someone wrenched my cocoon away, leaving me trembling in the icy light.
Before I could move, slender feminine fingers threaded softly through my hair. Someone bent over me; soft lips fed whispers into my ear. “It’s almost over, Ily. Christmas is in two days, and our presents are ready.”
She pulled away.
I sat up in a rush just in time to see Faiza grab the dirty towels where I’d thrown them over the chair and scurry to the door. The glint of a golden collar replaced her silver one.
She smiled as she caught me looking, her dark eyes bright and hopeful instead of despondent and depressed. “He made me a jewel yesterday. This is my last morning cleaning. But…” She hugged my towels and winked. “Christmas is in two days.”
With that cryptic whisper, she slipped out the door and vanished.
* * * * *
Christmas is in two days.
Christmas is in two days.
I couldn’t stop Faiza’s fervent whisper echoing in my head.
Constantly.
Morbidly.
Christmas is in two days.
Yes but…Victor punished all the jewels. I’d seen the scars on them. Seen how those still alive cowered by their Masters. How they barely lifted their eyes anymore. No one looked at me or Peter. Not a ripple of rebellion existed in the energy flowing in the ballroom night after awful night.
And yet…
Christmas is in two days.
I glanced at Peter across the huge banquet and prettily dressed tables.
He stood in his usual spot. Kept apart from the other jewels. Separated from their quarters. No longer allowed to talk to them.
He gave me a questioning look as I narrowed my eyes, trying to read his body language.
Did he know what was planned?
Did he know the jewels had rallied and kept going?
How did they? Why did they?
A second attempt would be suicide if Victor ever found out.
He shrugged as I studied him far too blatantly. We barely looked at each other anymore just in case Victor took offense and took it out on Henri. His collar remained hooked to a matching chain, our places on either side of the stage almost comfortably familiar at this point.
Out of all the jewels serving the many Masters, we had it easy.
We were the pawns. The collateral.
Henri was the prize.
Apart from a few pinches in private places, a few slurs, and a few leers…the Masters knew better than to touch us.
For the past month, while Victor dallied with Henri and Rachel steadily grew bigger with their baby, I’d caught a few Masters whispering about their leader. Men flew back to their families while others flew in to indulge in sin, yet all of them watched Victor with a glower that wasn’t there before.
Their secretive glances hinted they were no longer happy to leave Victor in charge. No doubt chaffing at his many rules and wondering why Victor could harm and brutalise a jewel, yet they never could.
Victor hadn’t noticed. Too wrapped up in his games with Henri.