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"You've punished me enough," I said, refusing to look into his grey eyes. Even in this dimness they were like magnets to draw me in to my doom.
"You think a kiss is punishment? It's no wonder your kind place low value on human life." He was wrong. I didn't think less of anyone who was civilized.
Angry, I pulled my head free of his hold. "You and your kind are the ones who murder for fun." He hadn’t made his homeland appear any better than the horrible people my family and all news outlets said they were. At best, he wore a suit and looked different than what was to be expected. That made him a worse sort of monster than I’d been warned of.
His arm curled around my lower back. "Someone needs to demand justice for the crimes committed." Were these more people who wronged Katya? Or maybe another sister or family member of his? But how many may have been innocent?
Inside, I felt this ping of anxiety. There would be other women who received his ire for small deeds. Would he be publicly fucking them? Would I be part of a harem of women he punished? Stupidly, I asked, "And what justice will you demand from other women you’ve captured?"
He clicked his tongue in chiding. "No need for jealousy." The statement ended just as we heard a muffled scream. Torture, though almost silenced behind a wall, I could still hear. That abuse became my concern instead of pointing out how wrong he was if he truly believed me to be jealous. I would never envy any woman he decided to claim as a personal fuck-toy. Of course, that might have me tossed to be used by his goons.
"We should hurry." He turned and pressed a solid black door that slid open. The bright light that poured into the passage was accompanied by a loud and enraged male voice that spoke Armon's foreign language. The step in felt a bit like walking into a James Bond movie with secret places that had been revealed. Ahead were several heavily armed men, and many more people were lined up to die.
And the group being killed? Even the body slumped in a pool of blood had the same clothing my murdered brother and his friends wore with pride—military uniforms I had killed them in. Just like my garage, the ages of the fifteen men ranged from nineteen or so to fifties. And then there were three women. One older, but two were college aged, like me.
The feel of a hand to the small of my back caused me to jolt. “See, no need to be jealous. They aren’t near as beautiful as you.”
What the fuck did beauty have to do with it? Violent sex offenders didn’t care about how a woman looked; they just wanted a cunt to abuse in order to feel powerful.
The blond man holding the pistol looked older than Armon, but late thirties at most. By his appearance, he didn't come from the same background of wealth as Armon had. This stranger looked every bit a hardened criminal who spent too much time in the elements. The yellowed front tooth lined in black at the gums made his vicious snarl more repulsive.
He and Armon spoke indecipherable words before Armon wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me to his side possessively.
The blond spat a slur as he glared at me.
My knees locked, unwilling to move any closer to what these bastards would consider a productive night.
"Come, Sweet One," Armon said against my ear, fingers roving downward as he still held me tight against his side.
"You don't need me close while you murder people." I remained in place when he moved forward toward the bruised and bloodied people in gags. They all looked at me with either judgment or desperation. I couldn’t be certain which, but either was horrible. Just like me, they were without hope of escape.
“I won't bemurderinganyone,” he replied. But his blond friend would certainly be doing it. I could tell that by looking at the vile man.
I chanced calling him the slur used for his arrogant countrymen of rapists and murderers.
In return, he called me a whore and marched my direction. Larger and several inches taller than Armon, the blond came within a foot of me, spit landing on my face as he spoke. “You will regret that, cunt.” I could hardly understand the words since his accent was so strong.
Armon said something sternly to his accomplice, who backed away but continued to glower at me. Next, Armon's attention was on me. "I can't have everyone seeing how disobedient and vulgar you are acting," he whispered as he reached and unbuttoned the shirt I wore.
I stilled, strewn hair puffing outward with my breath. "No." Not stripping me. Not letting that hostile blond hurt me. I wanted none of it. "Let me go." A tremble went through me.
"We can make the same deal as before if being let go is so important to you. You can choose who lives and dies." He guided one side of the shirt off my shoulder to kiss it.
A shiver escaped at the touch of his lips. "No." I wouldn’t. Never again. He could spend all night playing this game and I wouldn’t make any choice of which person lives or dies. This was sport for him, and he wouldn’t win in his cruel games any longer. He had me. That should be enough.
"No?" He moved the other side of the shirt to glide down my arms, so I stood in nothing more than the red, lacy undergarments. His mouth dipped to my collarbone as he spoke. "Why not?" When his body pressed firm to mine, he was disturbingly already erect.
"I don't want to be tormented any longer." If I could have pulled away, I would have.
“My sister probably felt that way.” Kindness left his tone. “Though I doubt you have any understanding of what true torment is aside from passively watching it.”
My punishment. This would always return to my punishment. And he would make me feel guilty because I hadn't experienced what Katya had.
I said nothing. I didn't want to see the enraged man I got a glimpse of earlier. His sister seemed to be the only thing to provoke him. Within seconds, the hostility decreased, and he was back to planting his mouth on my shoulder. If only his touch didn’t ignite me from within, I could retain my sanity. But he knew how to manipulate a reaction from my body, making him all the more dangerous.
His forefingers hooked beneath the straps of my thin bra, and he lowered them as he spoke, "I want you to suck my cock, and I won't order for a single one of these people to be killed."
I hesitated, doubting he told me the whole truth.
