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Chapter 16
CHRISTY
I’ve often wondered whether pain is relative. Do we all feel it the same way? Or are others just able to endure more? You see, Ifeelthe sharp sting as Konrad whips my arse. Ifeelthe intense heat that follows. Yet, I’m removed from it. Detached.
It’s as though it’s happening to someone else.
Thwack!
Thwack!
Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
My heart thunders, my pulse races, my skin crawls and my legs turn to jelly, but I don’t scream or cry or move. I float somewhere away from my body, feeling everything and nothing all at once, a strange kind of euphoria settling over me. The haunting tune might have stopped playing but the rush of listening to such extraordinary music remains. I find myself wanting to meet the pianist, One.
“Climb up onto the table, Nothing,” Jakub eventually says, cutting through the tether that held me adrift and yanking me back to reality. His voice is oddly calm, as though he’s controlling something inside. I can relate to that feeling. “Nothing…” he prompts.
I obey him, not because I’ve lost the will to fight, because that burns as brightly as I’m sure my arse does now, but because I’m still in that place where peace lives. Where nothing and no one can touch me. Pushing up onto my hands, I climb onto the table, painfully aware that my arse is still on display. The table is so large that I don’t disturb the place settings as I crawl across the centre, but it’s slow-going. I might not feel the pain, but my body is reacting to it nevertheless.
The Masks watch my every move, and when my dress falls past my arse, covering me up once more, I half expect them to tell me to lift it back up. They don’t.
“Stop there,” Leon commands, the flickering flames of the candles dotted about the hall are reflected in his eyes as I lock gazes with him.
Twisting my body, I sit with my legs crossed. My arse stings, but I switch off the pain, compartmentalising it until I can deal with it later. “Am I dinner?” I ask, an almost hysterical laugh bursting free from my lips.
Leon tips his head to the side, ignoring my question and asking another. “Didn’t that hurt?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you scream, cry, make any kind of noise?”
“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. I really don’t know how I do it, much like I don’t know why I have visions. It’s a mystery.
He nods, seemingly satisfied with my response. Konrad takes a seat next to Leon and I hear the sound of a chair sliding across the stone floor as Jakub sits down at the head of the table, but I don’t turn my head to look at him. Instead I concentrate on a flickering candle on the other side of the hall, its light glowing brighter as it floats towards us.
A beautiful, raven-haired woman wearing a black lace dress with no bra or panties glides across the room, appearing out of the shadows like a ghost. Her expression is impassive, neutral, but her dark eyes are sharp and intelligent. She stops behind Jakub, her hand resting on the back of his chair. I have to twist my head to the side to look at them both. They make a beautiful couple.
“This is One,” Jakub says, introducing me to the woman who played such beautiful music only moments before. I still feel its effects lingering on my skin like a lover’s caress. “She is the matriarch of The Menagerie. She has lived here the longest and has earned her place by my side at this table. One, meet Nothing.”
One tilts her head in greeting, acknowledging me. “What can she do?” she asks, her voice heavily accented, sexy, the vowels roll off her tongue in an expressive kiss.
“She’s a ballerina. Other than that, not much else.”
My nostrils flare at his dismissal, but I bite my tongue.
“A ballerina,” she murmurs, eying me. “For the show?”
Jakub nods his head. “I’m considering it.”
“Considering it? What is she here for if not for that?” One asks.
“She’s here for us. She’sours,” Jakub retorts pointedly. There’s a possessiveness to his tone that doesn’t go unnoticed. One’s dark eyes narrow, and despite my appreciation for her music, I’m immediately wary of her.
“She is certainly very…pretty,” she says, her observation not meant as a compliment given the look of disgust on her stunning face. I can only imagine what she’d think if she saw the real me, if my prettiness is as unattractive as her reaction implies. The respect and awe I have for her musical ability is quickly replaced with dislike. Anyone who puts more worth in a person’s appearance isn’t someone I’ll ever get along with.
“Sit, One,” Jakub barks impatiently, keeping his gaze fixed on mine. “I’d like to introduce the others and get this evening underway. I’m suddenlyveryhungry.”
“Whatever you wish,Master,” she preens, her fingers sliding along the high back of Jakub’s chair and brushing down his arm in a move that is more dominant than obedient. He flinches, his jaw tightening, but he doesn’t tell her to stop or punish her for the intimacy. Perhaps he fucks her? The way she looks at him certainly suggests as much.
