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“On what?”
Reaching for the lighter in my pocket, I unhook the oil lamp that hangs midway along the stone wall to my right. Lighting it, I rest it back on the hook then turn to face her. “On how you behave, Zero…”
My voice trails off, stunned momentarily by her thick, wavy hair. My fingers itch to stroke the strands. In the darkness the colour was dulled, but now I see it in all its glory—a crown of red tresses, highlighted with oranges and golds as it tumbles down her back—I imagine it wrapped around my fist, her lush mouth choking on my cock.
Fuck. Focus, Konrad.
“And if I don’t behave?” she asks, surprising me with her forthright question.
She can’t help but glance at me sideways beneath the curtain of her hair. Her eyes trail slowly upwards, taking in my appearance and widening at my choice of mask. It’s different to the plain black one we wore to kidnap her in. This is a full face mask, with larger slits for the eyeholes and a gaping mouth with pointy gold teeth. Both it and the sharp cut of the suit I’m wearing now is another form of camouflage, designed to intimidate the type of clientele we entertain. Not that we really need to. Our reputation precedes us. When you’re in our home, you obey our rules or end up a rotting corpse in the lower bowels of the castle. Everyone knows that. Stepping towards her, I tip my head to the side, fully aware of how menacing I look.
“We’re men with very…particulardesires. Fail to follow orders and you’ll soon learn what it means to betrulyowned by The Masks.”
“I think I already have a good idea,” she mutters sarcastically, turning her gaze away, her long red hair hiding her face from me once again. Her response isn’t typical. There’s normally tears, begging, anger and rage, but never sarcasm. Her will is strong. It impresses me.
“Whatever you think you know about us, think again. You can’t even begin to understand who we are, Zero.”
“Stop calling me that. My name is Christy.Christy,” she repeats.
“No, it isn’t. That person is gone. You’ll do well to remember that.”
“And what if I choose not to? What if I choose to remind you every day who I am? What if I choose to fight back?”
“Then the fun really begins. We’re more than willing to play that game, but know this,” I say, crouching before her. “The Masksalwayswin.”
Reaching out, I grab a strand of her hair, rubbing the silkiness between my thumb and finger, recalling the way it had spread out across her pillow as she’d slept peacefully in her home, unaware of the danger she’d been in. I swear to fuck, when we’d crept into her room and I laid eyes on her, she took my breath away. Her hair was a splash of red, stark against the white cotton. Her plump lips, so pink and full. Her long, dark lashes fluttered against her perfect porcelain skin as she slept. Leon had remained impassive as he injected her with the drug that kept her under the first time around, and Jakub appeared uninterested, unaffected by her beauty. But me? I’d been entranced.
Truth be told, for the few hours we’ve spent apart, I’ve been wondering whether the silky strands would burn me as much as a naked flame would. An abstract thought that has no basis in reality, but one in which I indulged nonetheless. In all honesty, her fight in the van, her beauty, and the strangeness of her eyes, has enraptured me more than I’d care to admit. It’s not as if I haven’t been around beautiful women before; every single Number my father had collected before that motherfucker, Beast, killed him, is stunning. It’s just that there’s something so…alluringabout her that I can’t put my finger on. Something I wish to explore further.
Reaching into my inside pocket I pull out my flick-knife. My fingers run over the ivory, smooth now from years of use. With a snap of my wrist the blade slides free, the sharp edge glinting in the firelight from the oil lamp. Zero stiffens, her fingers digging into her arms as her courage wanes. Without saying a word, I cut away a length of her hair, placing both it and the knife back in my pocket.
“Do you always take what isn’t yours?” she asks, the shackles rattling as she reaches for the spot now missing six inches.
“Yes.”.
“Next time you try and take something that doesn’t belong to you, don’t expect to keep your fingers.”
I laugh. Her defiance is both amusing and tries my patience. “Keep turning me on like that and I might just forget the pact I made with my brothers and lock you up down here permanently.”
She has the good sense to keep her response to herself, even though I can tell that’s hard to do. Her whole body is strung tight, wired and ready to react, to fight, and whilst it would be so easy to indulge, to forget the promise I made to Leon and Jakub not hours before, I won’t. That doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun though. Reaching over, I press my fingers against her hand.
“You’re cold,” I observe, expecting her to flinch away from my touch. She doesn’t.
“I’ve been locked in this cell for hours with no heat, no light, no blanket to keep me warm. Of course I’m cold,” she snaps back. “If you wanted me dead, then you’re going the right way about it.”
I laugh, drawing my hand away, impressed by the disdain in her voice and the fight that comes out through her gritted teeth. It fires me up inside. She doesn’t realise how fucking attractive it is. Taming the wild ones is my speciality after all.
“That can be rectified.”
“How?”
“I couldfuckyou warm.”
Her head snaps around and this time her gaze meets mine. For a moment I’m rendered speechless by the opposing colours of her eyes and the fire that burns within them.
“You could try!”
“I could. Ican, but fucking you chained up like this isn’t on the top of the list of things I wish to do to you right now.”
