Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 86717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86717 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
What will he do to me?
As my fingernails scrabbled at my aching throat, I did my best to settle my drum set bashing heart. It didn’t matter. It would never happen. Master A would never let him claim me for a full night.
No one had done that.
No one.
I was borrowed for brief interludes. Not rented for negotiated periods.
He won’t let it happen.
I’m okay…I’ll be okay.
I had no explanation for the swirling attack I suffered. I’d endured so much worse than Mr. Prest. Yes, he was the devil dressed in angel wings, but he had a refined venom that other monsters lacked.
He was terrifying.
“No fucking deal. I’ll find someone else to build what I want.”
“No one else has the contacts, and you know it.”
Master A snarled, “You’re not fucking my slave.”
“She’s a slave for that reason.” Mr. Prest’s voice never rose, staying royally calm and melodic. “And I will have her…if you want what I have to give.”
My body spasmed as I sucked in a noisy breath, hating the way my skin heated at being fought over. I never thought I’d be so wanted, so desired—even though it was for terrible reasons, I was priceless for a fleeting second.
“I’ve paid you a fucking fortune!”
“And I want something more.”
“No way.”
Mr. Prest’s fingers clamped around my nape, hoisting me unceremoniously to my feet. I couldn’t fight the pressure of his strong grip, shackled entirely to his mercy.
Standing didn’t help my impending panic attack. I wobbled in place as Mr. Prest forced me to look at him. My watering eyes wrenched up, drinking in his face as if he held the future not the end.
His hair glossed so blue-black and thick, it looked like tar pits—ready to snuff out my life. His gaze flashed with ebony rage. “Yes. And I’ll tell you why.” His voice dropped to a hiss. “I know you’re the one who beat her. I know her hand didn’t break from falling down the goddamn stairs. And I know you punished her for things I did last time I was here. I want her. You treat her like shit. The least you can do is give her to me so I can do the same.”
My knees buckled.
My girlish whimsy of actually being treated cordially pulverised.
He wanted…not to sleep with me…but to hurt me?
That was how he got his kicks? By beating already beaten women?
My anger pushed back my panic attack, giving me a pillar to hold onto while dragging air into unwilling lungs.
How dare he!
How damn dare he barter for my body, knowing full well he’d ruin it more than it already was.
Fuck you!
Master A straightened his shoulders, still fighting an already lost battle. “Are you forgetting what she is? She isn’t human. She’s a possession. My possession. I paid for her. She’s mine to do what I want with—including loaning her to those I approve and denying her to those I don’t.”
“I suggest you change your mind about denying me. Just because she’s yours doesn’t mean I won’t take her if you won’t give her to me.”
Dragging me forward, he encroached on Master A. “I’m a thief, Alrik, before I’m a deliverer of war. I could steal her, and you’d never know. But I won’t out of respect for our agreement.” He narrowed his eyes. “Deal or no deal. Either way, I’m not leaving without tasting her.”
Tasting me?
Master A knew he was beat. His gaze fell on me, turbulent and possessive. “You’re not leaving the premises with her.”
“Fine. I’ll stay the night here.”
“Where?”
“Does she have a room?”
Master A sighed. “Yes.”
“Private?”
He shrugged. “There’s no door but yes, private enough.”
“Put the door on, give me the key so we won’t be disturbed, and you have your agreement.”
I wanted to shout and demand they see me as a human. A woman. Not a transaction to be beaten for the night.
They wanted to hurt me.
That was all I was to them.
They both deserved to die.
Keeping my lips pressed tight, I curled my arms around myself, protecting my brittle chest and broken hand.
I’d be having sex tonight.
I’d be hurt tonight.
By Master A or Mr. Prest.
It no longer made any shred of difference.
.
“FUCKING FINE.” Alrik glared with all the hate he could conjure.
He had an obsession with his slave. Unhealthy. Dangerous. An obsession that deleted rationality.
And I’d just directed that possessive idiocy onto myself by demanding the one thing I swore I wouldn’t.
You weren’t strong enough.
I’d come here promising myself I wouldn’t fucking do this.
I’d vowed over and over again that I wouldn’t look at her, talk to her, even notice her. For the first part of the meeting, I’d succeeded.
But then my mind wandered to the quiet bruised mouse in the corner. Her silence tugged me, forcing my attention to wander back to her every time I yanked it away.
Now, I’d done something I already regretted.