I was nothing.
Why didn’t you call the police?
You had one chance!
The stabbing question ransacked me as Mr. Prest grabbed his phone and ended the communication.
My one opportunity to ring for help and I’d been an idiotic little girl desperate to speak to her mother.
I wanted to slap myself.
For a fleeting second, Mr. Prest stroked my shoulder before he settled back against the headboard. “Well, shit. I guess I won’t hear you talk, after all.”
WELL THAT FUCKING backfired.
I hadn’t planned to give her the option to speak to her past, it just sort of happened. One moment, my phone was something so common, a tool I used every hour, of every day. The next, it was the holy fucking elixir for this delicate creature who trembled as if it could turn into a portal and carry her far away.
My hands curled into tight fists. “Who did you call?”
Her head bowed deeper into the mattress. The hard as a bloody rock mattress. Not only was she beaten—shadows marking her face and every inch of her body—but her one place of comfort would grant yet more torture.
My mind ran riot with who she called. Her father? Brother? Boyfriend? Who the fuck hadn’t been there for her when she finally had the opportunity to ask for help?
Don’t be such a fucking hypocrite.
I had no right to despise her past loved ones for not saving her when I was about to do exactly what all the men in her present had done. I should give her another chance—let her ring the police.
Be better than those who imprisoned her.
That thought ought to stop me.
But it wouldn’t.
Not after I’d touched her breast and my skin had detonated like the weapons I dealt in. I knew myself, and I knew my limits. I could walk away from other temptations before it grew too strong to be ignored. But I doubted I could walk away from her without taking what I needed.
“Sit up…,gir—Pim.” I fixed my mistake. When I’d called her ‘girl’ before, her ripple of indignation had given me a clue. She hated being owned but wanted to belong to a name.
An interesting contradiction, layering her with yet more secrets I needed to steal.
I held my breath, waiting to see if her despair would override my command.
It didn’t.
Slowly, her spine unfurled like a fucking tempting flower, raising her shoulders, bending her neck, followed by her rageful, sorrowful face.
I hadn’t lied about being around other silent ones in order to gain talents elsewhere. I’d been initiated into such a sanction.
From the day I arrived to the day I left in disgrace, the masters never spoke, expecting us to know exactly what they wanted. I’d learned another language, becoming more than bilingual but multilingual, understanding the nuances of eyebrows, reading hints from muscle shadows. I called on those skills the longer I was in her presence.
Clearing my throat, I glanced around the room. It hadn’t slipped my attention that she’d stared at the corners as I fastened the door. This entire fucking house was rigged up to its window panes in security feeds and cameras.
I might have bartered for an uninterrupted night, but I wouldn’t get it. Alrik wouldn’t stay true to his word. And the thought of being naked and balls deep in his slave—vulnerable and surprised—wasn’t something I planned to let happen.
The moment Pimlico rested upright on her knees, I said, “Forget the phone. No one else exists but us.”
Her eyes flickered but she stopped her inner thoughts from shading her completely.
“In this room, there is no past or future, just the present. All you need to do is behave, and I’ll treat you better than the others.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Don’t believe me?”
The twitch of her chin gave her reply.
“You don’t have to believe me. I’ll prove it.” Shifting onto my knees, I mimicked her position. Unlike her, my joints didn’t pop with reluctance. My body was honed, trained, and treated like a priceless tool because that was what it was.
Yet you want to risk your health by fucking this girl.
Well, that and I wanted something more.
I wanted into her damn mind…and if I had to hurt her to achieve that.
I would.
I FROZE AS Mr. Prest balanced on his kneecaps before me.
His suit rustled as he reached out and placed large hands on my shoulders. His eyes dropped to my breasts as if the obstruction of the white dress didn’t hide what lay beneath.
I tensed, waiting for him to touch me there again. However, his fingers tightened on my skeletal upper arms, adding pressure until I teetered unwillingly.
I fought him, doing my best to ignore his push.
What the hell is he doing?
“First thing I want from you is…” He shoved me, smiling as I sprawled sideways with my hands splayed to catch my fall and legs locked together. “…stop sitting like that.”
Like what?
Like a woman who doesn’t have a choice?
Almost as if he heard my snark, he once again put pressure on my shoulders, forcing me onto my back. “Relax.”
No chance.
I squirmed upright, wincing at the pain and the throbbing bones in my hand.
I didn’t trust him not to punch me in the stomach or take advantage of my body when spread out.
He didn’t let me clamber up, pinning me to the mattress with his fingers around my throat.
Let me go.
I stopped breathing.
My muscles locked.
The provocation of touching me there hurtled me into a whirlpool of horror.
He’s touching my neck.
My lips parted for breath, fighting so damn hard not to sink.
He’s not Master A.
Ignore the trigger.
Ignore it!
Our eyes met—mine wide, his narrowed as his body hovered close.
Don’t.
I didn’t know what I asked him not to do. But he stiffened with his mouth only millimetres from my lips. “Keep fighting me, Pimlico, and we’ll have a fucking problem.”
His voice trapped me in a net, keeping me from floundering in the despicable dark.
How could he tell I was fighting him?
How could he hear my silent retorts?
I had nowhere to hide with him.
I hated it.
Suddenly, he sat back, removing his hold on my neck and swiping a hand through his hair.
I sucked in a lungful of relief.
“Something you should know about me, girl.” He bared his teeth at the abhorrent word. “I’m not your master. Like I said before, I see more than he does. I know more than he knows. And I hear every refusal you think.”
Remaining on his knees, towering over me, he murmured, “I know you fear I’ll hurt you like him and take advantage of you.”
Won’t you, though? That’s what this is all about.
I looked at the wall, cutting him off.
Mr. Prest grabbed my wrist, tracing his thumb around the bony joint. “Look at me.”
I didn’t.
His voice dropped to a hiss. “Look at me.”
We made eye contact.
Something charged and grew and collided. The electricity became worse, humming with power.
Shit.
Drop your eyes.
Do it!
But I couldn’t.
Like cement, his gaze kept me imprisoned, unable to break its hold.
His lips spread over perfect white teeth. “Ah, finally…a response.” Smiling coldly, he said, “I guessed right, didn’t I?”
No.
“I did. You don’t have to refute it.” Shifting, he reclined alongside me, his body not touching mine but his heat scalding me all the same. His fingers never dropped from my wrist, stroking with tiny whirls of his thumb. “How about we start this again?”
He brought my hand to his nose, i
nhaling my knuckles. “You can sit however you like, but whatever you do, I’ll do. And whatever I do, you do.” His thumb pressed hard into the delicate flesh between the bird-brittle bones of my wrist. “Deal?”
No deal.
His fingers pinched harder.
He held me in such a non-sexual place but my skin burned beneath his touch. I stopped breathing as more electricity sprang hot and so difficult to ignore.
“Do you want me to keep squeezing?” His eyes hooded as my fingertips turned white with blood loss. “Because I will if you don’t agree.”
If I were half as obedient as I thought I was, I would nod and let him manipulate me into whatever he chose. But something about the way he held me made me think of things I’d never been given.
I’d never enjoyed sex or kisses or caresses.
I doubted—after the life I’d lived—I would ever find enjoyment in such activities. I knew that to the depths of my soul. But the way this foreign man held me made desperation and hunger for things I didn’t understand toil inside. Things not related to sex and domination but equality and friendship.
God, I wanted a friend.
No One had kept me company, but my scribbles weren’t enough.
Nothing was enough anymore.
He chuckled under his breath, his thumb pressing on the mismatch of bones where arteries and veins flowed. His pressure increased as he inched one, two, three centimetres up my arm, making me shiver.
“You’re going to tell me what I want to know.”
My body jerked as his fingers coiled around my elbow, sending another flood of goosebumps.
“You’re going to speak to me.”
Speak?
My hazy eyes tracked to the ceiling, searching for where Master A would be spying. Did his cameras have listening capabilities, too? Did he see me lying beside Mr. Prest and believe I spoke in a way I’d never spoken to him?
My heart opened a trapdoor and dove into an abyss.
If he believed I conversed with a man he despised, he wouldn’t just kill me. He’d tear me into excruciating tiny pieces.
Listening devices or not, I couldn’t afford to let any image hint that I answered questions.
I shot upright, not caring my broken hand burrowed into the mattress. Not caring that my forehead cracked against Mr. Prest’s, granting agony and black popping stars. All I cared about was getting away from whatever he wanted because the thought of talking wasn’t awful in that fleeting tempting second.
But nice.
Groaning, he reared back, holding his forehead the same way I held mine. “Goddammit.”
Ouch!
I rode the wave of pain, slowly blocking it out.
However, Mr. Prest beat me. Rubbing his skin, he shook his head. “I knew you’d be hazardous to my health, but I didn’t think you’d try to knock me unconscious.”
I blinked, eradicating the final shower of stars.
Serves you right.
“I didn’t deserve that.” His black eyes narrowed. “I didn’t hurt you.”
Yes, you did.
Taking a deep breath, he repositioned himself into our original position of knees. His slacks tightened around powerful thighs, straining against the seams. The bulge between his legs seemed larger than Master A, which sent a horrifying cloud through me.
Shedding whatever had just happened, he crooked his finger. “Get up. Seeing as you prefer sitting this way, do what I do.”
What was he trying to achieve? How could I pre-empt his next mind game when he didn’t know himself what he’d make me do?
I felt like a puppy following its leader as I copied his deep breath, sat on my knees, and recentred myself as much as possible. However, I couldn’t stop the jittery feeling he’d conjured inside. I wanted nothing to do with the throbbing interest that was as alien to me as regular meals and going outside.
“Remember, Pim. New rules. What you do, I do. And what I do, you do.” With elegant fingers, he spread the expensive material of his blazer to the sides, revealing the black t-shirt clad torso beneath. Slowly, he shrugged out of it, tossing it off the bed as if it held no value, all while watching me as if I was a priceless seductress.
What does he see in me to justify putting his life on the line?
I ought to wrench my eyes away. To stop looking. But he wanted me to look.
I can’t deny I want to look.
It didn’t matter that I found him an oddity and confusing. It didn’t matter that he cornered my mind by forcing me to stay present. Master A just took. He gave me the grace to turn off my thoughts and abandon my body to do whatever he wanted.
Mr. Prest did not.
Along with rebellion, he brought life and awareness and even though that awareness made me focus on my smarting forehead from his hard skull and the unwanted tingle in my belly, I couldn’t switch off because the night was both long and short.
Soon, it would be over.
Thank God, it will be over.
He’ll leave.
He’d…leave.
My shoulders slumped a little before I remembered I wanted him to leave. I hated him because of the consequences he lumped me with when he’d walked out the door.
Master A would most likely kill me—that was all I had to look forward to. A clean death rather than endless punishment.
Unless my plan works and Mr. Prest steals me.
What did Mr. Prest have to look forward to? An empire he ruled, a kingdom I could only imagine, in a palace I could only dream.
Tearing my eyes away, I did my best to silence unwanted thoughts and fall back into my lifeless position.
“You can look,” he whispered. “I have full intention of looking at you.” His shoulders bunched as he reached over his head and grabbed the back of his t-shirt. With a dark glare, he wrenched the fabric off, undressing a torso I’d only seen in my fantasies.
For a man with mixed authenticities, his body wasn’t confused as to what made him excel in this world. Long, lithe arms with perfectly proportioned biceps and tight forearms. Broad but not too broad chest with pectorals and obliques and a washboard stomach that seemed too strong for his skin.
But none of that mattered as my eyes drifted toward the sweeping masterpiece.
I sucked in an awed breath.
His ribcage was visible. His flesh open, revealing a dragon hidden beneath the bones.
That can’t be.
But it was.
My fingers itched to prove it, to insert my hand into the chamber of his chest and stroke the hissing reptile within.
Somewhere inside me, I knew it wasn’t real, just excellent trickery. Whoever had done the ink had made it look so three dimensional, so realistic, I swore I looked into his body and witnessed his heart beating all while the slithering dragon exhaled smoke, protecting its master like the gatekeeper to his soul.
Mr. Prest didn’t move. Sitting on his heels, he allowed my inspection as I swayed forward, fooled into thinking if I turned left or right, I’d see his spleen, liver, and kidneys. The tattoo was so lifelike, so deep in detail, I squirmed at the thought of real bones pressing against me rather than encased in human flesh.
“It’s not real.” He ran his palm over his side that looked cavernous and gaping. His fingers whispered over his muscles with no blood from an exposed ribcage or being bitten by the hissing dragon in his cavity. “See?”
Dropping his hand, he cocked his chin at my frozen form. “What I do, you must too.” His eyebrow rose, finishing his sentence. Remove yours.
I stiffened.
Being naked in front of him didn’t scare me. Nakedness was just another dress code. Master A had cured me of private places or secret spots on my body.
But that was before I saw his beauty, both natural and adorned.
All I had to offer were muddy bruises and sun-deprived skin.
Mr. Prest lowered his jaw, his eyes darkening. “Obey.”
The word rippled from his mouth to my ears. Making me angry and it
chy and dazed.
He wants to look?
Fine.
The longer I spent in his company, the more I sensed hesitation on his part. He wasn’t like others who would’ve spun me around and taken me over the bed the moment the door was in place.
He wasn’t here to take me quickly.
He wasn’t here to take something physical.
What does he want?
And what will happen if he gets it?
Sitting upward on my knees, I cocked my chin at the corner of the room, searching once again for the portal where Master A watched. Gritting my teeth, expecting the door to soar open with shrapnel and cannon fire, I grabbed the hem of the white dress and jerked it over my head.
The air-conditioned breeze licked around my flesh. I prickled with awareness as Mr. Prest sucked in a breath, his vision tracing paths from my lips to nipples to core.
The way he watched me frothed my stomach.
I wasn’t beautiful like him.
But for some reason, he saw something in me that I’d lost so long ago.
Leaning forward, he snatched the dress from my hands and threw it on the floor. “Fuck, it’s worse than I thought. So much bloody worse.”
Worse?
Any confidence he’d granted ripped into tear-filled bubbles.
Worse!?
How dare he say such a thing!
With nothing to hide myself with, I wrapped my arms around my body, doing my best to shield my nakedness that he called the worst he’d ever seen.
Anger swatted at my dismay. This wasn’t what I chose. I didn’t want to be this skinny and broken. How dare he destroy me so callously?
I almost wanted Master A to appear. At least, no matter how ugly and beaten I was, he always wanted me.
Mr. Prest shifted, his large hands cupping the bulge between his legs. “I’d planned on finding pleasure from you tonight.” He wasn’t subtle as his cupping turned to grasping—the outline of his cock a thick rod in his trousers. “I’d planned on fucking you because, despite your awful fashion sense and wild hair, you turned me on.”
Turned me on.
Not turn me on.
I should be grateful his attraction was past tense. It meant whatever these mad few minutes had been, it was over before Master A stormed in.
He glanced at what he stroked. “Does that scare you?”