Page 17 of Retrograde

“Alright.” Attila downs the rest of his drink and then puts the cigar out in the empty glass.

“Bring me a girl whilst you’re at it, will you?”

Surprise flashes through Attila’s face. “Any preferences?”

“Short, petite, brown hair not too long.”

His eyes narrow, and he stares at me, assessing me. Not reacting to his scrutiny, I take a leisurely drag on my cigar, chasing it with the rest of my whiskey.

“Freckles and a camera around her neck?” He raises his eyebrows with a sardonic smirk.

“Dickhead,” I snarl.

As one of the few, he’s allowed to speak to me this way without getting his teeth knocked down his throat. But he’s fucking pushing it.

I pull a wad of banknotes from my pocket and hand him a few.

“Get me three packets of condoms, too.”

“Three packets?” he repeats, disbelief slamming into him when he sees I’m serious. “For one night?”

I only shrug in response like I have no idea what he’s on about. I don’t bother explaining to him that the piercing at the tip of my dick shreds through the rubbers like they’re made of paper.

Let him draw his own conclusions.

6

RILEY

“Aren’t you coming in?” I shift my weight, gravel cutting into my feet.

My whole body is bruised and achy from lying on the rocky ground. I’m so cold it’s like there’s ice underneath my skin, and hungry in a painful way—my stomach cramping with acids.

The lights are on. Aron is on the outside of my cage, plate in his hand and a blanket thrown over his arm, just like the last few times he’s come down here. Except for whatever stupid reason, he’s just standing there staring at me.

My mouth is watering, and my teeth are chattering so hard they might crack.

Fuck him. Fuck this.

My hand shoots forward through the bars. I try to grab the blanket. But he just takes a step back—out of my reach—snickering. The sound makes my blood boil.

“Careful, you’ll make me spill your tea.” As always, there’s a steaming mug on top of the plate, and I need it now, even more than the slice of bread and two triangles of cheese surrounding it.

Why won’t he let me have it?

“You fucking asshole.” The insult echoes shrilly throughout the cavern until it sounds like the whole cave is mocking me.

“What, did you want these?” He indicates the plate and the blanket, taunting me.

“What do you think?”

“I think you need to learn a lesson, Hotshot,” he drawls maliciously. “You need to learn that these are a privilege. A privilege you can lose if you don’t behave.”

“Fuck you!”

He tuts, setting the plate and the blanket down before stepping back to the bars. I want to bolt, but I’m weak and slow. His hand is around my throat before I know what’s happening. He runs his thumb over my pulse, his eyes darkening with warning.

I bet he wouldn’t be pleased to know how nice the warmth of his touch feels.