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If Trigger Laperro was the prince of darkness and Jethro was the prince of light, then the man standing in front of me was Lucifer himself.
Fabio Crellid.
Their leader.
Their father.
My living nightmare.
Fabio stood in the doorway, looking more imposing than ever. "The last time we spoke, you were adamant that you wanted nothing to do with her. If I recall correctly, you gave her to your brother." A faint smile ghosted his lips. "Have you changed your mind, son?" Malice glimmered in his cold eyes. "Has the bastard prince returned home to claim his whore queen?"
Pain; it was more potent than the oxygen filling my lungs. Queasy, I blew out a pained breath and tightened my hold on Trig's hand.
Please, Trig.
Get me out of here…
"Nothing has changed," Trigger replied, ripping his hand free and stepping away from me. "He is welcome to her."
2
"No!" A pained sob escaped me and I dropped my hands to the floor, head bowed, hope lost, painful memories bombarding me. "Trig."
"Jethro!" Fabio Crellid barked, calling his son to him. "Looks like you have a problem, son."
Moments later, the sound of Jet's voice filled my ears. "Ashton." His tone was gentle and laced with disappointment. "Get off the floor."
Sniffling, I climbed to my feet and turned to face him. I wasn't afraid of what Jet would do to me. We'd been friends all through childhood, and I knew in my heart that he wasn't a bad man. I should have been grateful that he was willing to claim me, that he had managed to delay my initiation by an extra year, but I couldn't be. Because I was afraid of his weakness – a weakness in direct contrast with the relentless strength and dominance that oozed from his older half-brother.
Jet's weaknessterrifiedme. His need to please his father. His inability to command and control. His soft heart. He wasnotthe man to be tied to in this world.
In a world where the male gender reigned supreme, a woman needed to find her alpha. Jet, as much as his father willed him to be, wouldneverbe the alpha son. He was the kind of man who would allow terrible things to happen to his woman and then try to soften the betrayal with gifts and smiles.
When the chips were down, Jethro Crellid could not and would not protect me.
He was useless to me.
"Naughty girl, Ashton," Fabio mused, stroking his jaw. His cold, dead, blue eyes trailed down my naked body and I saw a mild hint of interest in those soulless depths. "I think she needs to be taken care of sooner than expected, Jethro," he announced with a jerk of his chin. "Let the initiation begin."
"You cannot be serious!" I heard Trig snap. "She cannot be initiated – wait, dammit!"
Too little too late, Trig.
Fabio's henchmen manhandled me through the adjoining door and into the king's lair. I knew the man was evil. I'd known it all my life, which was why, when my eyes landed on the woman strapped to the bed in the middle of his dimly lit lair, I didn’t bat an eyelid.
This is it, Ashton.
This is the day you die.
Let your mind slip.
You won't need it after today.
Three men entered the woman in all of her openings as several of Fabio's associates stood around watching. They were spreading her, testing her, preparing her for work.
I, of course, would not be working for Fabio. My father's name both saved me from that fate and thrust me into a far worse one. A high-born woman would serve the men of The Order by bearing their heirs.
In other words; shut up, look pretty, and pop out their high-born spawn until they grow tired of your body and dispose of you.
