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“You’re making a mistake, Angelica. And I’m begging you to leave this club and never come back. You belong tucked up in your safe, very normal life. This one, I promise you, this one will destroy you.”
Before she could ask what the hell he meant, he moved past her back in the direction of the bar.
Angelica didn’t know what to think. His words seemed to suggest she was in some kind of danger, or at least she would be if she stayed here.
For a long beat, she considered following after him, but the moment had passed. She’d given him plenty of opportunity to engage with her, but instead he wanted her to go away.
She moved forward toward the open front doors of the club. The cool ocean breeze cleared her senses as more customers flowed into the large foyer.
She couldn’t believe she’d kissed him. She’d wanted to shake him up, and she was sure she’d succeeded, at least a little. But apparently not enough for him to ask her to stay.
Walking toward her car, almost in a daze, his words kept playing over in her mind: that this club or maybe this part of society would destroy her. But what bothered her the most was his reference to her safe life.
As she reached her modest Camry, a very safe car, she drew her keys from her clutch but got no further. She didn’t want to go back to her usual routine, to her normal life. That’s what went through her head, and it made it impossible to put the key in the lock.
She knew the kiss had touched him, opened him a little. She couldn’t be wrong about that.
She also thought it possible that if she left now, she’d never see him again, and that was the last thing she wanted. She had to break through his icy barrier, get him to talk, and maybe at the very least to explain why he thought she was in danger.
She put her keys back in her purse and turned around. She had to make one last attempt to reach him.
The parking lot was well lit with lots of people coming and going. Though there were two rather large, imposing men at the end of her row of cars, she had no reason to feel at risk. There were just too many people around for anything to go wrong.
She moved quickly in the direction of the club, and at the same time the two men pivoted toward her. A jolt of fear went through her, an instinct that almost turned her feet around once more. But even if they meant her harm, what could they possibly do with so many witnesses nearby?
She therefore straightened her shoulders and kept on going. However, just as she drew near, she swore the air around them grew oddly distorted, the way heat would look on sun-blasted asphalt.
She blinked and the next moment one of the men grabbed her arm, hauled her against his chest, and held her tight. The other pressed a cloth over her nose and mouth. The smell nauseated her, and she struggled hard, kicking and screaming, certain that someone would come to help her or, if not, at least call the police.
But her mind started spinning, she couldn’t feel her feet, then she was falling.
Three days later Brogan Reyes sat in a very different kind of club deep in the Como cavern system, his nerves on edge. Sex slaves of every human ethnicity worked the club table-to-table, while a live stage performance kept the customers on the verge of release.
From the earliest time he could remember he’d survived by playing a role, and tonight was no different. But if all went well, he’d get the one thing he wanted above everything else: an invitation to become a member of the Starlin Group.
Just a few nights from now Starlin would host another gala event, and if he played his cards right, he was in. He’d purchase his first sex slave and become part of the inner circle of one of the most heinous slavery rings in his world.
Once inside the organization, he intended to bring the whole damn thing down.
So he played his role, watching the live stage show and behaving as though he liked that the woman screamed in pain. The dom, covered in leather, used a variety of implements to draw blood. He knew the progression of torture well; given her pallor, she’d drop into unconsciousness soon, then another slave would be brought out and the process would begin again.
Part of him wanted to rush the stage, grab the woman, and get her permanently out of this hellhole. If he did, however, he’d destroy decades spent building a reputation as a man fully into the lifestyle. He had to perpetually think beyond the present moment, to the thousands of women and men who lived caged in this part of the world, serving the sadistic needs of a hungry, perverse, but well-paying vampire clientele.
The club appealed to high-end slavers, with black marble on the walls layered with swaths of emerald crystals. Soft lighting hung suspended over numerous linen-covered tables, creating an oddly intimate atmosphere for the horror taking place not just on stage but all around him.
Many of the clientele brought their own slaves with them to perform fellatio while they enjoyed the evening’s entertainment. Ecstatic moans occasionally rolled through the club as waitstaff kept the drinks coming.
This club was at the dark end of the lifestyle, where the slaves lived constantly with the threat of torture. But other clubs were worse, involving a snuff element. Those, he avoided. He’d sacrificed a lot to create his cover, but he drew the line at watching slaves murdered for the purpose of sexual gratification.
He lifted his now-empty glass to a passing female slave, toggling it slightly. She came toward him on a quick step, eyes flaring. With that one brief signal, he knew her type: She might have entered the world as a slave, but she’d fully embraced the lifestyle and learned the fine art of turning pain into pleasure.
On his periphery he saw that two Starlin men sat at a nearby table, no doubt assigned to observe him. He therefore had his own little performance to give, and this slave would be perfect for what he needed to do.
She was Asian, with straight black hair to her shoulders, and wore a costume made up entirely of chains crisscrossed over most of her body. The chains left nothing to the imagination, revealing bare br**sts, bu**ocks, and a narrow black landing strip.
“What’s your pleasure, Master Reyes?” She held her small round service tray toward him.
With one hand he placed the tumbler in the center, but with the other he grabbed the chain that ran from the middle of her chest, downward between her legs, then rose to connect high on her back. He pulled, one hard tug.
She gasped, her chin quivering.
He watched her face as the pain transformed into something sweeter, and in a slow rhythm he worked the chain up and down. “What I want right now is your mouth on my dick.”
With her dark eyes glittering, she set her tray on his table, then dropped to her knees.
