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“Perhaps,” I reply, holding my nerve, aware of how close his face is to my crotch. “Or perhaps it will be me who’ll be breaking you.”
Looking up at me from his kneeled position, Leon puts his mask back on, securing it behind his head with swift, sure fingers. “You seem very certain of yourself,Nought,” he says, trailing his fingers over my ankle and up my calf as he peers up at me. His hands are cool, not warm. Smooth, not rough. His touch is gentle, not cruel. There’s no ownership in his touch, just exploration. It surprises me, knocks me off-kilter. “But do you know whatI amcertain of?”
“No, what?” I ask.
“That despite your fight, your apparent strength, you’repliable. Inside that tough outer casing is someone who’s longing to be touched, kissed,fucked. You’ve lived a sheltered life. You’ve had no lovers, no friends except your dear old aunt and uncle, andGrim,” he spits out, throwing her name out like a curse. “Admit it, you like the excitement. You crave it.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t long for anything bar escaping here!”
“Like clay, we can mold you into what we want, what we need,” he continues, brushing off my half-truths like confessions in a church. “And you’ll love every second of it because deep down, you’ve alwayswantedto belong to someone. Well, now you belong tous. Don’t we all just want to belong in one way or another?” he says softly.
Something lurches inside my chest. Something unwelcome. Something I don’t want to acknowledge. All those nights I’ve dreamt of The Masks, seeing them in my visions, all those days these mysterious men have fought their way into my waking thoughts have finally come to fruition. For two years I’ve lived with these men inside my head, knowing that I couldn’t change my path. So why do I persist in trying to do that now? Shouldn’t I just accept what’s going to happen?
Licking my lips, I flex my fingers uncertain what to do. Fighting someone who is trying to hurt me, who physically restrains me, is easy, but his gentle touch and the truth of his words makes keeping him at arm’s length more difficult. I know this man isn’t to be trusted. Every cell in my body is telling me as much, yet the way he stares at me, touches me, soothes me with his melodious voice, lulls me into a false sense of security.
His gentleness makes me weak. The irony of that isn’t lost on me.
“Get your hands off me,” I say, doing the only thing I can in the moment, and whilst my voice is heavy with warning, it’s empty of conviction because deep down I know he’s right, at least partially. Ihavelonged to be touched, kissed, fucked. I’m a virgin in every sense of the word. I haven’t lived, not really. I work,workedwith the dying because I didn’t have to share the fact I wasn’t living. I’ve been cared for by my aunt and uncle, by Grim, without even trying to stand on my own two feet. Until The Masks kidnapped me, I hadn’t even stepped a foot outside my village, let alone seen any of the world. I’ve hid, not just because of my physical deformities, but because of who I am and what I can do.
“Am I right?” he asks, refusing to slow the steady creep of his hands towards my virgin pussy.
“You see what you want to see,” I lie.
“No. I see thetruth. I see the tremble of your body as I touch you. The flush of your skin as I edge closer to your pussy. I see the hardness of your nipples despite it being warm in this room. I see your pupils widen with lust. You’relyingto yourself.”
“I tremble because I know I can’t win against a man who’s physically stronger than me, even though that won’t stop me from trying,” I counter. “My skin is flushed not because I want your touch but because anxiety is tearing me up inside. My god damn nipples are erect because I’m afraid, not turned on. You’re making assumptions based on how my body reacts. Why is that?” I counter. “Does it easeyourconscience telling yourself that I want this, that I want you?”
He continues to slide his hands up my legs, gently, reverently, and I find my breath catching. I’m caught in his pull, just like I had been in the van with Konrad, and in their sitting room with Jakub. It’s no different with Leon, and I hate myself for it.
“You’re forgetting one thing, Nought. I have no conscience to ease,” he says, his hands stilling.
“You did once,” I mutter.
“What did you just say?” His eyes narrow at me and I swallow hard.
“No one is born evil, corrupt, twisted,” I reply quickly, not wanting him to suspect that I’ve found out anything about his past. “What did your father do to you to make you this way?”
“Sold me to The Collector when I was four to pay off his debts,” he says casually, as if he hasn’t just shocked me to the core.
“Wait. What? But you’rebrothers.”
“We are in every single way that matters. But I’m not a Brov, only Jakub holds that title. We are, however, The Masks.”
“Konrad too?” I ask, meaning the part about being sold.
Leon meets my gaze and nods. “Yes, Konrad too. Jakub was born the year after I arrived, and Kon was brought here a year after that. He was six when his family sold him to The Collector, the same age as me when he arrived.”
“I—”
“Not what you expected?” he asks, his fingers circling over my skin. Soothing, distracting. My traitorous clit throbs.
“No,” I admit, trying to figure out if that knowledge changes anything. He may have been stolen too, but he’s still the man who kidnapped me, threatened me, chased me and captured me. He’s still the man who wants to hurt me despite the gentle way he touches me now.
“You said that you’re my mirror, so let me see my reflection in your gaze when I slide my fingers into your wet heat,” he says, his voice low, sensual. Full of challenge. “Let me see who’s right, me knowing that you want this or you lying about the fact that you don’t.”
“I don’t,” I whisper, but even as I say that I can’t seem to move, to breathe even. I’m caught in a place of shame, and shocking arousal as his finger traces along the seam of my pussy, and his hot breath flutters against my core.
“You’ve laid down the gauntlet, Nought. I’m not one to back down from a challenge. The sooner you learn that about me, the better.”
