Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
“I really wish Peter would stop encouraging that foolish enterprise.” Henri cupped my throat and dragged me into him. Fisting my breast, he painted an image of a Master groping his jewel all while we plotted anarchy. “I told him to stay simple. Fuel and fire. That’s it. He should be focusing on weapon collection.”
“Mollie and Rachel know their stuff. If they say it’s worth making them…then I don’t see the harm.”
He huffed and bent me backward, latching his teeth on my throat. “The harm will come if Victor catches one of them red-handed.”
I scrambled in his hold, giving off the impression of a jewel fighting her Master’s bite. “The kitchen staff have already placed a few knives around Joyero.” I struggled harder as he dropped his hand between my legs and shoved me high onto my tiptoes. The purple negligée and G-string I wore were no match for his questing fingers.
“Christ, Ily.” He groaned as he penetrated me, half for show, half because we always lost ourselves. “Do you always have to be so fucking wet for me?”
Whatever black magic existed on this island had well and truly cursed both of us.
My insides clenched around his touch, hypnotised and wanting, all while I snapped my legs together. A sudden flash of fear spilled from my tongue. “Do you…do you think we’re losing our minds?”
Henri froze, his finger deep inside me, his arm lashed tight around my back. “Losing our minds?”
I wanted to take those words back but…now I’d thought them, I worried.
Like…really worried.
“What if…” I sighed and kept pushing his shoulders for show. “What if we get out of here and we still need…”
“Need what?”
“This.” I beckoned to the mayhem and Masters. “What if we’re pretending too much? What if we’re infected like they are and—”
“I am infected. I’ve been infected my entire life.” He let me go and withdrew his touch. Pulling a leash out of his pocket, he snapped it onto my collar. “I know we’re playing a really dangerous game. And I’m aware that once we get out of here, we’ll need to stop. But…” He shrugged and pulled me onto the music-blaring dance floor. “You don’t need to worry that you’re infected too. I know you’re doing this for me, and—”
“Hang on.” I slammed to a halt, keeping my head down so none of the other Masters thought I’d been the one to rule Henri. “You think I’m still doing this because of you? Not because I’ve grown addicted to it too?”
He stepped into me, grabbing my chin to tip my head back. His gaze flicked from my mouth to my eyes, his face flashing with colour from the strobes. He looked as if he wanted to argue, but he finally sighed. “You want the truth? The fact that you get off on telling me no? The fact that you drip for me and come for me—despite being surrounded by bastards? That says you’re either an angel willing to do whatever it takes to free her friends or…”
“Or?” I shivered.
“You are as sick as me.” He licked his lips and rushed, “But when I get you out of here, I promise you, Ily, I’ll find a way to cure you so you don’t have to spend the rest of your life struggling like I do.”
I wanted so, so badly to hug him.
To soothe him.
Breaking his hold on my chin, I kissed his palm as quickly as I could before he pulled his hand away. “What if I don’t want to be cured?”
His eyebrows shot into his hair. “You’re saying even when you’re back with your family. Back in your sleepy little village. Back with your brother and life that you’ll want to remind yourself of this horror by playing slave with me?”
I shuddered.
The dark infection in me answered with a flush of desire. “If it’s consensual, then—”
“It’s still me hurting you when you don’t deserve any kind of pain. Especially after enduring this place.” He hung his head. “I’m sorry, little nightmare, but…once we’re free, I never intend to hurt you again. Needs or no needs.”
Yanking me deeper onto the dance floor, he deliberately kept enough distance to avoid talking again.
I followed, the leash our only contact.
My mind raced as I studied his powerful back, his white shirt glowing pink, then green, then blue.
I longed to be in our room, hidden beneath our blankets, plotting war.
Last week, Henri had commanded the cleaning staff to teach us the schematics of this citadel. He regularly dropped me off at the jewel quarters before heading to the library under the guise of writing, leaving me an hour or two to go over the mental blueprints each of us were learning. With every whispered room, nook, and portico, Joyero slowly came alive in our minds, dotted with the bombs already hidden.