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What the fuck am I doing?
This would not end well. I was supposed to get the final paper copies signed, Selix to post to my lawyer, and set sail in a few hours.
I wasn’t supposed to be spending the night with a girl who almost hyperventilated herself into a coma because I’d claimed her for a few hours. I couldn’t trust myself. I’d already gone too far by touching her.
A man like me had rules for a fucking reason.
My fingers pressed together. I forced myself to forget about the silky strands of her hair against my skin. Her skull had been so small beneath my touch, imprisoned by claws that’d murdered men for my gain and stolen from those who’d wronged me.
Scrubbing his face with both hands, Alrik muttered, “Give me twenty minutes to find the door. It’s up to you to reattach it. I won’t fucking help.”
“I can manage.” I swallowed my temper. “And don’t bother searching. I don’t want you to claim you can’t find it and for us to battle again.” Looking at Pim, I smiled thinly. “Tell me where it is and Pimlico will help.”
The slave girl stiffened, her shoulders stark and sharp.
Once again, her silence was full of sound. If I closed my eyes and listened with every sense rather than just my ears, I might be able to pick up the general curse words she no doubt hurled and the pleas for compassion she tried to hide even from herself.
Pleas didn’t work on me.
Never had.
Never would.
Alrik huffed, pulling a few keys on a silver ring from his back pocket. “You don’t give up, do you? You want a night with her? Fine. Get it fucking over with.” Tossing the jangle of metal at me, he snarled, “She knows where the door is. It’s in safe keeping with a whole bunch of stuff she’s lost the privilege to use.”
Closing the distance between himself and Pimlico—still swaying in my grip—he grabbed her cheeks, pinching hard.
Her lips formed an innocent bow as he glared into her eyes. “Now, sweet little Pim. Mr. Prest is gonna have his fun with you. Just like all our other friends, got it? I don’t want this to happen, and neither do you. So think of me, and don’t you dare fucking enjoy it.”
Her body jerked as she fought the instinct to bolt and obedience to stay.
I looked away in disgust.
Why the fuck had I argued for one night with this girl? She’d been abused far too much to want me. It didn’t matter I would treat her better than the assholes who’d ruined her. In her mind, I was just the same: someone to tolerate, fantasise about their death, and turn off her soul while they thrust between her legs.
Nothing was sexy about stealing from her.
Nothing was right about what I was about to do.
So fucking stop it and just go.
I ignored the thought because that was impossible.
I had to get her behind closed doors. I had to remove her from my thoughts if I was to find peace again.
Already, I felt the corruption inside me clawing for more. One taste, one touch, one kiss, one fuck.
One was all I was permitted.
And if I wanted to use my allotment tonight, that could happen. Because I had no plans on ever setting eyes on her again.
Alrik pecked her forehead like a father would his daughter heading to something she feared. “Behave but don’t make me jealous. Otherwise…remember my previous promise about the past few nights being easy.”
My gut clenched.
He was so fucking deluded; he didn’t even try to hide that her multi-coloured bruises were from his fists. Some, however, were from other wounds…a shoe, perhaps?
My gaze dropped to my own ludicrously expensive footwear. What colour would her skin paint if I used such craftsmanship in the same way? Would her bruises be pretty or uglier? Would I be kinder or more brutal?
So many things to find out.
If I let myself be a monster like him.
Which I wouldn’t.
I think.
I’d hurt many people before but never for selfish pleasure. Would punching her feel different from punching a man trying to hurt me? Would sleeping with her be any better than paying a high-class escort who generally enjoyed her job when treated right?
So many questions that I needed answers to so I could move the fuck on with my life. And once I’d gained those answers, I’d end it for her.
Death would be the kindest gift I could give.
However, could I take her final fight, knowing I’d kill her in return? Was I that cold-hearted? Or was I a selfish fucking bastard who would use her without the stomach to murder her afterward?
I guess time will tell.
Alrik clapped his hands. “Go get the door, Pim. Don’t make me ask twice.”
The girl immediately shot from my hold, dashing from the lounge and into the corridor where I’d given her my jacket and seen her mistreated tits for the first time.
