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“I’m not interested,” I muttered.
My father sniffed beside me. “You will do your part, Aslan. As we discussed.” Grinning at the madame, he added, “Now, Elif, please show me the rest of your fairies. I heard a prominent American businessman is paying us a visit next week. He’s requested a private viewing of at least three girls that could fit into his uses back home.”
“Of course.” Elif bowed. “This way.” Stomping to the door, her purple dress swirled and twinkled.
“I’ll leave four guards outside, Aslan.” Cem clapped a hand on my shoulder. “To protect you.”
“Thank you, baba.” I nodded. “Very kind of you to keep me safe.”
“Always.” He squeezed me affectionately, then let me go.
The snick of the closing door sent prickles down my back. The silence in the small but decadent room thickened as my gaze fell on the naked girl, and hers rose to me towering over her. Blonde hair, blue eyes—
Crystal-blue eyes. Sea-glass eyes. Sky-blue eyes.
Neri’s eyes.
I swayed a little; I clutched my cane.
The girl noticed, her stare narrowing on my walking stick. “So you’re the one who’s going to rape me first?”
The twang of English.
The foreignness of a language that I used to speak so fluently but now sounded so wrong.
It didn’t belong in this country.
She didn’t belong in this country.
Every awful nightmare I’d had of actually letting Cem bring Neri here to rule beside me popped like dirty bubbles.
I could never.
I would never.
Fuck, I could never do that to her.
This was what I was.
A peddler of skin, a plyer of drugs, a murderer of innocent men.
“You fucking asshole.” She shot to her feet and balled her hands. “You probably can’t even understand me. You’re nothing more than a savage. Well, do your fucking worst. I’m done fearing you pricks. Karma will get you one day. One day, you’ll be sold into slavery. One day, you’ll be so fucking hurt you’ll wish you were dead. And when that day happens, I’ll be there. I’ll be a ghost watching you suffer, all because of what you did to me.”
My ears rang as my mind slowly remembered the nuances of English and the syntax of righteous hate.
I’d forgotten how that tasted.
How fury burned the tongue.
How rage ached the teeth.
How anger blistered in your bones and sliced dangerously through your blood.
The tiniest shroud of my conditioning fell away, all because of this hot-tempered American girl. This feisty, angry girl who would most likely be sold and screaming by tomorrow. She’d last a week, a month, a year before she was tossed away like a broken toy, replaceable and forgettable.
My knuckles whitened around my cane.
Fuck.
