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He drank his whiskey in slow sips and after a few more minutes, from his peripheral vision, he watched the Starlin spies leave their table. They would make a full report. If the gods smiled, he’d get that f**king invitation.
He needed to get the hell out of the club, take a hot shower using plenty of soap, but he remained where he was just in case there were others tracking his movements and reporting, spies he didn’t know about.
After another hour, and another whiskey, he was about to leave when a slave brought him an embossed envelope. He recognized the Starlin insignia, an S with a chain in a circle around it.
He strove to calm the surge of adrenaline that rocketed through him. This was it, what he’d been working toward all these years.
Breaking the gold seal, he pulled out the card and read. The Starlin Group extends the warm hand of fellowship and requests your presence at all future events. Congratulations and warmest wishes to our newest member. Your fellow slaver, Master Engles.
He glanced up at the male slave, whom he knew to be one of Engles’s many assistants. Engles was the man to impress and Reyes had apparently gotten the job done, but it had taken years. “You may tell your master I am most grateful.”
The slave, his face also a familiar mask of impassivity, nodded once, then left.
Reyes remained another half an hour, a powerful euphoria flowing through his veins. His forearm rested over the invitation, the physical reminder of what he’d accomplished.
His gaze sought out the slave he’d used earlier. As she dropped to her knees in front of yet another slaver, a woman this time, he promised himself he’d get her out along with all the others who had served him while he built his heinous reputation.
His plans were finally falling into place. The next auction would take place on Friday, followed by several gala parties. On the block would be beauties gathered from every corner of the world, and to cement his reputation he’d buy his first slave, or even a group of slaves.
When the woman on stage finally passed out, the dom tossed her over his shoulder and hauled her away. A round of applause rippled through the audience, along with calls for more drinks. Another group of slaves entered the stage to clean up.
Reyes finally rose to leave.
Pulling a well-packed money clip from the pocket of his pants, he dropped several thousand on the white linen, then headed home.
Angelica lay on a hard mattress that smelled of blood and urine, her hands bound behind her. She couldn’t keep her eyes open and her head felt as if spikes had been jammed through the top of her skull. Mostly her arms were killing her in this position.
She sensed that considerable time had passed since she’d last seen Reyes at Briggs’s Ocean Club, but she had no idea how much. Days, at least.
She also had vague recollections of being awakened, forced to drink things she didn’t want to, then shoved back down on the same mattress to sleep for long periods of time.
Her arms hadn’t always been bound like this—only after she’d tried to claw one of her captors’ eyes out.
She still didn’t understand where she was, what was happening to her, or how long she’d been in what she could only describe as some kind of jail cell set in a cave, a very large cave.
“How’s Sleeping Beauty?” A woman’s voice reached her, sweet and melodious. A spurt of hope swept through her.
“Coming ‘round, mistress.”
“Well, get in there, strip her down, and let me have a look. The Starlin acquisition team said she’s worth at least two million.”
“Yes, mistress.”
Hope crashed.
Angelica tried to sit up. She wanted to fight whoever it was that intended to follow the woman’s orders, but she’d only made it to her elbow when a hand grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet.
“Hey.” Her protest came out slurred.
For this one word, she received a hard slap across her mouth.
“How many times have I told you not to hit the face? Humans don’t heal fast.”
Angelica processed this statement, but couldn’t make sense of it. What did the woman mean by humans not healing fast?
“Sorry, mistress.”
“Bring her closer.”
Angelica’s face throbbed as her captor dragged her to the front of the cell, then pulled her upright for inspection. Between the pain in her head from whatever drugs she’d been given and the new blow to her face, she could barely open her eyes.
“Closer.”
Blinking, she had a blurred view of the bars of her cell and a figure beyond.
“Aw, why are you crying, sweetheart?” The woman clucked her tongue. “He didn’t hit you that hard.”
“Not crying,” Angelica managed through thickened lips. She might have been, she wasn’t sure, but like hell she’d give this she-devil a reason to think small of her.
“Well, at least you’ve got some spirit.” The woman tilted her head—that much Angelica could determine, but her vision still wasn’t working right.
“Get her clothes off. I need to see the goods.”
At that Angelica’s instincts took over. She thrashed in the man’s hold, kicking at him and screaming. Of course she couldn’t do much with her arms bound. Still, she fought him hard.
Something struck the back of her head and all went black.
She woke up with a pungent smell wafting beneath her nose. Again she came up fighting, but she didn’t get far since restraints held her down, flat on her back.
And she was naked.
She breathed hard, trying to twist, but her ankles were pinned as well.
“You need to relax, princess.”
The woman of the melodious voice had returned, only now she was inside the cell.
She drew close to the bed and sat down on a stool beside the putrid mattress. She put a hand on Angelica’s throat, stroking down the side of her neck. “Your blood has a wonderful smell, very rich. I’m tempted to sample you myself. Unfortunately, we always promise pristine, never-before-bitten goods to our clientele.”
Angelica rocked her head back and forth. “Get the hell away from me.”
She could finally see, despite how badly her head ached.
The woman smiled at her, but her dark-blue eyes held a cruel glint, truly malevolent, despite her otherwise angel-like appearance. She looked like something out of an old painting, with light-red hair in a mass of curls, pale skin, small pink lips, and large cornflower-blue eyes.
Angelica couldn’t battle the woman, but maybe she could reason with her. “Listen, I don’t belong here. There’s been some kind of mistake.”
