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Her mind buzzed.
She was in trouble.
Kross glided to her. His hands slid over her breasts and down to her navel. “What did I tell you the first time we met.”
Her stomach tightened.
She said nothing.
Kross grabbed her by the throat. “Tell me.”
“You are my owner.”
“That’s right, baby. I’m your owner.”
“I belong to you.” Her voice trembled.
Kross’s fingers tightened on her throat and then they released. He drained the liquor and then crashed the glass against the wall. Jewel yelped as the fragments shot into the air and scattered everywhere.
“That brother you love so much? What’s his name? The birth certificate says Lucien, but you have another title… ah Juney?”
Jewel stiffened.
Kross rubbed his chin. “Should I make him mine too? That should make things interesting…”
“No!” Jewel shrieked. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t touch him.”
Kross smiled, a primal, victorious smirk. “Then… let’s begin.”
15
Finn watched Jewel wrestle with her words. A part of him warned that he should leave her alone. She looked more distressed than he’d ever seen her. Rehashing the past was causing her a new level of damage.
He wanted to care.
But he didn’t.
He needed to hear this story. If only for his own sanity. He needed to know why anyone would willingly work with a sadistic killer.
Jewel’s words earlier had only confirmed his worst fears. Kross hadn’t kidnapped his sister. She’d gone willingly.
When the police had told him their suspicions, Finn had fought against it. Just because they hadn’t found signs of a struggle or brute force didn’t mean Courtney had followed her killer willingly.
A handsome face.
His sister would never fall for a con as simple as that.
Courtney couldn’t come back from the dead and explain what had happened and, until he got his hands on the scum, Kross wasn’t a viable option.
Jewel was all he had.
Finn had snapped her out of the haze once. He could do it again.
He was just about to kneel in front of her and coax her back to life when Jewel glanced up. Tears glistened in her eyes and streamed down her dark face. The orange bulb overhead cast a warm sheen on her skin.
She looked like an angel.
A tortured one.
