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My body slackens under his stare as he traps me in his mind manipulation. My insides scream, my heart threatening to explode. Fuck. I didn’t expect him to get into my head. I should’ve known better. I wasn’t injured, so there was no need to drink his blood. He probably came by for that reason. He always gives us his blood before private affairs. I’m so stupid.
Alexander’s eyes turn solid silver, glowing against his ashy complexion. “Hayley, are you lying to me ab—”
“Ruby, I forgot...I’m sorry, Mr. Aris. I forgot that I was still holding the wine. It’s as exquisite as she is. I remember it fondly.” Sawyer stands in the doorway, holding a glass of red liquid that he hadn’t had before.
He offers me a smile and wink, straightening his shoulders when Alexander releases me from his gaze and turns around. The two of them have a silent staring match, and I heave a few breaths, getting myself under control.
“May I watch her enjoy my gifts? I hope this isn’t too much of an intrusion.” Sawyer lifts an eyebrow, daring Alexander to say something otherwise. I don’t know what kind of arrangements they have, but it’s something that Alexander doesn’t want to fuck up, because he shockingly nods his head.
Straightening his suit jacket, Alexander forces his tight mouth to smile. “Perhaps one sip won’t harm her. I don’t usually allow alcohol before a private show.” Or at all. I’ve never had anything slightly intoxicating. Or flavored. Water is the only thing I get plenty of.
“You’re very generous to allow me such a treat.” Strolling forward, Sawyer trains his eyes on me, drinking me in as I stand in only my towel, my hair now on display. It’s like he needs to memorize every inch of my makeup-less face even more so now.
He closes the space completely but doesn’t hand me the glass to take. Instead, he holds up the fragrant glass to my mouth and whispers for me to take a soft breath to truly enjoy it. The strong smell overpowers my senses, and I can already imagine what the wine tastes like, the subtle hint of something sweet in the notes almost hypnotic.
Tipping the glass, Sawyer offers me a sip with a smile. The liquid warms my insides, the intoxicating taste lingering on my tongue even after I swallow.
“Thank you,” I murmur, offering him a smile. A real one. Something about how he stayed nearby and intercepted what could have been a terrible beating awakens something inside me. “This was very kind of you.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Stroking his finger along my shoulder, he gently touches my burning skin. His finger coats in my blood as he carefully picks out a piece of glass. “I’m sorry if I put you in an unfortunate position with your master. I do hope he realizes how lucky he is to have a woman as stunning as you around.”
Alexander growls under his breath, his muscles tensing with Sawyer’s jab. “She is my most prized performer, which is why I am strict. I care about her wellbeing.” Biting his arm, he steps closer and holds it out to me. “Perhaps this is something for you to think about before offering gifts that could hinder her performance.”
Things go from uncomfortable to painful as the two of them act as if this situation isn’t about to explode any second. I clasp Alexander’s arm and suck his bite mark, saying a silent prayer that nothing happens with me in the middle.
Someone claps their hands, startling me, and I release Alexander and meet Opal’s gaze. The other performers stand behind her, devouring the drama unfolding, and I manage to get a couple feet between me and Alexander, taking a second to slide into my vanity chair.
“Take your discussion out of my dressing room. My gems need to get ready.” She narrows her eyes at Alexander. “Your clients have checked in at the lobby and require your presence. I’ll see to it that we’re all set and ready to go upon your call.”
Alexander snatches the glass of wine from Sawyer and squishes the bag of food in his grip. “I’ll see to it that Mr. Noble’s gift waits in your room, baby doll. And don’t wear your wig. Our guests want something more natural.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Alexander disappears before I have a chance. I’m left staring at my reflection in the mirror. He’s punishing me because he can. He’s taking the one thing from me that gets me through these private shows.
Now I have nothing. I hate him more than ever.
***
“I’ll leave you in my baby doll’s hands, Misters Grey.” Alexander offers a short bow and vanishes through the suite door.
I twirl my arms, faking a smile at the gentleman across from me. “I’d love it if you allowed me to show you one of my new dances.”
The leader of the Grey Coven grins and nods his head, swiping his sleeve over his blood-stained lips instead of using a napkin. “That sounds like an excellent idea, baby doll.” His use of Alexander’s pet name for me skeeves me out more than it should. “I’ve been dying for a close up of your magnificent body.”
His coven brother with curly, wild black hair chuckles from his place. He holds up his palms to me and pretends to grab my boobs. “I think your hands are too small for those tits. Maybe she should give me a go first. I could give her a ride that’ll put her out of commission for a few days.” Extending his fangs in excitement, the bastard winks at me. “What do you say? You look like you could use a vacation.”
I blink, trying not to react. All I want to do is gag and run out of here. I’m used to men treating me as an object. I am an object and plaything to them, but Alexander failed to mention his stipulation of what is acceptable.
I run my fingers through my golden brown hair, hating that it’s too short and thin to cover my body like the long tresses of my wigs. I can barely hide my reddening face. “As fun as that sounds, Master Aris has rules in place, and I hope you understand that I can’t break them.” I tilt my head and show off my neck. “How about you take a taste instead? I’d love to feel your lips on my skin.”
Mr. Grey turns to his wild-haired brother and narrows his eyes. The two of them share an obvious conversation I can’t hear, and I slide my chair back, preparing to get to my feet. Moving faster than I can follow, Mr. Grey towers in front of me and locks his fingers through my hair, yanking my head back and forcing me to look at him. I clench in pain, my eyes watering, and I press my hands to his chest, trying to keep space between us.
“Mr. Grey, there is surveillance in this room,” Quartz, the silent male performer, says from his spot in the corner. “I hope—”
Mr. Grey’s strong grip releases me, and I struggle to realize what’s unfolding in front of me. Quartz hollers, his yells echoing through the room, and Topaz screams. Blood splashes over her light-colored, leopard-printed costume, staining it muddy-red, and I reach for my fork, my fear instincts raging wild and unbidden, stealing away my good senses and turning my body to survival mode.
“Stop!” I scream, rushing across the small living area. “Stop, you’re going to kill him!”
Mr. Grey snarls and whips around, spitting out a hunk of Quartz’s flesh. The performer crumples to the floor, and screams ring through the air. Jabbing my hand, I surprise Mr. Grey by stabbing him in the eye with my fork. I screech and scramble away, dodging out of his reach as he charges me. Fear tightens my chest, and I slam into the hard chest of one of his other coven brothers.
