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Sasha
Delight seemed to dance in Armon's eyes. "Come, Sweet One." His hand already squeezed mine. He spoke in that same comforting tone as the night we met. More of his games.
I looked at the eye mask with a shake of my head. Solitude had always been my mother’s punishment of choice used against me through most of my life. I wouldn't let him do that to me.
"I never made Katya be alone when I was able to be there for her." I awaited the wrath that always followed his sister's name.
Silence. Not even a movement came from anyone in the room. The people watching were easier to look at than the man in front of me. His breath became louder with the fury of my mention of her, and it was quickly followed by his release of my hand. Most likely so he could purposefully intimidate me as he stood straighter.
"Out." His growl had me desperate to scurry to obey, but he wasn't giving that order to me. The man and women in the room shuffled out.
"You think solitude was a source of Katya's suffering?" he spat. "You think using her as nursing practice or being in the room was some heroic guardian angel deed?"
"Clearly not to you." It had been the only thing I knew to do. I was meant to be the one to suffer by caring for her injuries. She was hurt worse because of my defense of her. The defense wasn't good enough for him. It wouldn't be good enough for her. Maybe it shouldn't have been good enough for me, either. But there was no denying he had shed more blood than anyone in my household had. "I had a horrible family that I let die because I didn't know how evil you were, but you have your perfect life of luxury and are still worse than anyone I've ever known."
His terrifying glower warned of retribution. Maybe I'd stepped over his line, and the hate he bore toward me would have me tossed out to the wolves. Maybe he was too enraged to respond without breaking his word never to hurt me.
My wet eyes narrowed on the mask that would be used as my punishment for supposed wrongs against him. "I never expected anything better from a man in my life anyway, certainly not from someone like you."
He fisted the plunging neckline of the maid outfit and jerked me to him. "Someone like me?"
My body reacted to that hold, and his response excited me, foolish though I may be. Even if it was caused by the mental games he'd played to have me desperate for his company. For the man at the coffee shop who had freed me from my misery.
"Tell me more about myself."
My head tilted high, just to meet his furious stare. Should I say anything and further his rage? More likely, it would thrill him for me to tell him that he was a murderous monster from a homeland of warmongers. He might smile with pride to be told that he was a deceptive bastard capable of charm.
"Speak." His fist tightened in the fabric.
"I'd rather wrap my head in a hundred face masks and be alone tied to your desk for a week." It was the truth in comparison to satisfying him.
"Oh, I'll mount you on my desk," he growled. "And my bed. And my fucking kitchen table for dessert."
Heat pooled between my legs. The twisted bastard wouldn't get a bit of me, though. He wouldn't have the satisfaction of a win from his games to break me.
"But before I do give you that gratification, you're going to tell me what makes me so much worse."
"You're a murderer." The words didn't escape me with a hint of hostility, though. I attempted a step sideways, but his hold on the front of the dress was too tight.
"I kill bad people." He snapped the response defensively.
"You lied to me and made me believe I would be safe with you." I swallowed hard at the way his eyes narrowed in response.
"I made you believe nothing untrue, and you have been kept safe." But he was wrong. He was able to act charming and kind that night. Terrifying, but somehow so different from a man who had been determined to hate and punish me.
"So, you just smile and lie to your pregnant wife who falls for it as you pretend I'm just a charity case instead of a personal fucktoy to be used on nights she's not interested."
"I haven't fucked my wife since before your rapist, murderer brother and his pathetic friends killed my brother without cause." His teeth were bared, and his voice was a low growl. "And I let you live in his home."
I would have loved hearing that he hadn't slept with his wife on the night he was away from me, but not when it came with this new fury and a reason to hate me worse than he already did. A new wrong that had been committed against him.
His eyes searched mine, but for what, I was uncertain. An apology for the wrongs committed by my family? Maybe for an admittance that I shouldn't have called my brother to warn him that Armon had come? Or maybe just to intimidate me; to make sure I knew my place as someone else who deserved his wrath, however he see fit to dish it out. I wouldn't know what to say in response that would satisfy him.
The front of the maid's dress loosened, drawing my attention to where he had held me against him. He turned and strode to the door. Opening it and motioning for people to enter, he spoke, "Do as they ask, or I will not hesitate to bind you to my desk for days and bring a dozen of your wretched countrymen back for you to shoot in the head."
And I believed him. Without a doubt, I knew he would do those things, and probably worse. His final glance was the last opportunity to say something, but I didn't know what to say. I'd never consoled anyone, nor did I know whether I should apologize. I was the captive; it wouldn't seem like anything more than lip service anyway.
After Armon left, the three people laid out a mat on the table and had me lay on it. After several areas of my body were shaved, a laser device was used to lessen the hair growth. This wasn't a short-term service. It would be done over the course of a year, making it seem all the more real that I remained with Armon in his dead brother's house. I had several services performed on me, making me wonder how much Armontoleratedmy lower status appearance. Were these the same people he hired to perform services on his wife?
