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Chapter 21
CHRISTY
Jakub’s knuckles rap against the thick wooden door before us, the sound cutting through the silence that we’ve been cloaked in ever since he led me from his room of curiosities. We wait, me still on a leash, and Jakub refusing to look anywhere but ahead of him. “Thirteen, hurry up!” he demands when she doesn’t open the door right away.
The faint sound of footsteps approaching moments later seem to appease him as he side-eyes me, his anger evident in the tightness of his jaw and pursed lips. I keep a straight face even though I’m smiling internally, knowing that I’ve won at least some of my self-respect back. He’d meant to debase me, humiliate me, fuck my mouth and make me choke and gag, but instead, I’d made him confess something personal. Unbeknownst to him, it was something that I already knew. I’d stolen a part of him, just like he’d stolen from me.
“You’re still Nothing,” he says cruelly, reading my expression, sensing my triumph.
“And you might hide behind your mask, but you're more transparent than any man I’ve ever met,” I blurt out, unable to help myself. I’m not sure why I insist on poking the bear, but it feels good. No, it feels better than good. It feels great.
This time he turns to face me completely, smirking whilst Thirteen, apparently, takes her damn time to open the door. “What men? Beast? Your uncle, Frank? Because we both know they’re the only men you’ve got to compare me with.Pathetic,” he goads.
I scowl, pressing my lips together at his scathing look. “They’re both more of a man than you’ll ever be!”
“Don’t presume to know me, let alone lump me in with them. Just because you’ve sucked my dick doesn’t suddenly make you an expert on who I am. Both your uncle and Beast are under the thumb of their women. That willneverhappen with me,” he retorts. “I will never be controlled by a woman who so easily falls to her feet at a compliment filled withlies. You think I’m actually attracted to you? You stupid, naive little girl.”
“Oh, yeah? Didn’t seem that way a few minutes ago!” I retort, anger rolling off me to hide the hurt that insists on settling in my stomach, as if I actually care what he thinks of me.
He tips his head back and laughs, reminding me of so many people who’ve done the same over the years. I raise my hand, ready to strike him but the door swings open precisely at that moment, preventing me from acting on impulse.
Thirteen coughs, dragging our angry gazes to her. She stands before us hazed in white light from a huge window streaming sunlight into the room behind her. She looks almost ethereal, giving off a sense of serene calm, like an ocean breeze gently cooling heated skin. Instantly I relax, relieved to have another person capable of stepping in and stopping The Masks, or at least respected enough to be listened to. She’s dressed in a simple pair of brown slacks with a white t-shirt that dips between her breasts in a low V, her feet bare. In her hands she holds a sprig of rosemary. Its distinct smell rises up to greet my nose.
“Thirteen,” Jakub says in greeting, his voice as tight as his body. You wouldn’t think he’d just come down my throat.
She smiles warmly, her kind eyes flicking between us both, before resting on my face. There isn’t any disgust or pity as she absorbs my birthmark. I’m grateful for that at least. Jakub yanks on the leash, pulling me forward. She doesn’t say a word and betrayal seeps beneath my skin at that.
“Nothing will be staying with you until the Ball,” he says, filling the silence. “I’m going to speak with One in a moment. I’ve decided shewillperform in The Menagerie. She needs to be put to good use.”
Thirteen raises her brows in surprise but remains quiet whilst her eyes doing all the talking. They’re very expressive. If I didn’t know any better, she’s questioning his decision.
“She won’t be available to our guests. She’sours.” Jakub explains, not bothering to hide the possessiveness of his tone. I snort, unable to help myself. He couldn’t even cope with a member of staff looking at me, how the fuck is he going to deal with hisclientsdoing the same?
Jakub’s jaw jumps, but he doesn’t respond, clearly trying to save face.
Thirteen nods, the slight tightness around her eyes relaxing, but still she doesn’t say a word. She simply takes the leash from Jakub so he can unclip the necklace holding the key to my chastity belt.
“Take this. Look after it. Do not, under any circumstances, give it to Leon, Konrad or myself. I will take it back the night of the Ball.”
Clasping it in her hands, she fastens it around her neck, the key nestling between her breasts. Jakub locks his gaze on it and for a moment we all just stand, waiting for something to happen. I half expect him to snatch it back from her, given he seems so controlling, but he doesn’t. He simply nods, glares at me one last time, then stalks off down the corridor grunting at Seven who appears out of a door further along the hallway. He baulks, stepping out of Jakub’s way before casting a surprised look at me.
Once he’s turned the corner at the end of the hallway, Thirteen removes the collar from around my neck and slides her cool hand into mine. Relief washes over me as I rub at my skin. Thank God I don’t have to wear it any longer. Squeezing my fingers gently, she guides me into her bedroom, shutting the door behind us.
“Who are you to these men?” I ask, not bothering with niceties. I need to know if she’s a friend or a foe. I’m confused by her relationship with them. They trust her, that much is obvious, and yet they probably shouldn't have, given what she did to help me.
Shaking her head, she lifts a finger to her lips and guides me further into her room. It’s well kept, large and as beautifully decorated as The Masks’ apartment, but way more feminine. Her room has a soul,purpose. Plants of all different species hang from hooks fixed to one of the walls, some are completely dried, others are in the process, their scent filling the air and reminding me of the meadows filled with wildflowers back home. Below the drying flowers is a huge worktop that stretches from one wall to the other. On its worn surface are all manner of glass containers filled with herbs and vegetation. Seeds and husks. There’s a pestle and mortar situated in the centre of the table, mixing bowls, spoons and knives, and jars filled with strange coloured liquids of varying consistency. At the far end, by the open window, is a tabletop gas burner. Its flame is lit and a medium sized copper pot sits on top of it, steam rising up from the liquid.
“What is this place? Who are you?” I ask again.
She drops my hand, turning to face me, shaking her head and tapping her lips with her forefinger. I frown, not understanding. “Is this place bugged or something?”
Smiling, she shakes her head, her pretty grey eyes lighting up from within. Clearly I amuse her. I’m not sure I’m in the mood to be the brunt of such hilarity.
“Then why aren’t you answering me…?” I ask, frustration and anger leaching into my voice. She taps her lips again, urging me to understand, and then it dawns on me, she can’t speak. “You can’t speak?” I repeat out loud.
She sighs, shaking her head.No.
“Youcanspeak?”
