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It’s so strange seeing him again. He looks older, more mature than the time I was first thrown into the hell where his father tortured me. I can’t tell his age, but I would guess he’s nearing thirty. All the visitors that have attended parties were older — men with gray hair and beards and women whose faces were wrinkle-free, but the rest of their bodies showed their real age.
“Thank you.”
He smiles, crinkling the corner of his eyes, and the color of the sea twinkles. His almost-black hair is short, but there are some strands hanging over his forehead, reaching his eyes. The darker hair suits his tanned skin, making him almost human. His lips are a dull pink, but they’re full, plump. My eyes travel over the black suit he wears, which hugs his muscles.
Perhaps he’s not real. An apparition in my mind. And just maybe I’m imagining him being here. It’s been four long years, and the last time I laid eyes on him, I was bleeding out.
The one thing I learn by assessing him is that it’s clear he doesn’t like the man who’s taken me, but what I don’t understand is why he’s having dinner with my owner.
I notice his hands next. Long fingers, with a tattoo peeking under the cuff of his shirt, and I wonder if he has any more ink that I can’t see. The two men stare at each other for a moment before my owner glares at me.
“Take that dress off,” Mr. Thanos orders me in a tone which scrapes against my skin, reminding me that I’m here because he’s allowing it. Not of my own free will. For years, this has been my life. It’s ingrained in me, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
Drake’s eyes burn into me as I lift the hem of the dress they’ve put me in. Once it’s over my head and pooling on the floor beside me, I meet those blue eyes that pierce me in a moment of heat.
He trails his gaze from my bare feet up my thin legs, stopping at the apex between my thighs. I know he sees the bruises. It’s not like I can hide them. I don’t cower. He lifts his stare up to my small breasts, over the lashes, scars, and black-and-blue marks on my flesh. The ink only hides so much. It’s visible only for the occasions when I’m dressed up like a doll for the parties I am forced to attend.
When he meets my eyes, there’s an emotion I didn’t expect. Guilt. He didn’t do this, but for some reason, he looks even more remorseful than the man who inflicted the wounds on me. He lifts his hand, causing me to wince, but he doesn’t strike me as I thought he would. Instead, his fingers pull a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. He taps one out, pressing it between his full lips, his eyes never leaving my face.
The lighter flicks to life, allowing the flame to dance wildly as it ignites the tip of the white stick. The silence from the man inspecting me is heavy, hanging in the air like a weight. He pulls a long drag on the cigarette, inhaling the nicotine, then a cloud of smoke billows around him.
“She’s perfect.” Two words, and my heart stutters. “I’ll make the payment right now,” he says. He’s here to buy me.
“Good. Would you like her to do anything else? I want all those secrets she’s hiding in her pretty little head, Savage,” my owner says.
Savage.
The name may mean violence, but the man before me is far from it. He looks nothing like a barbarian. Far too poised, too calm and collected. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from pleading for him to take me now, before Thanos changes his mind.
“Put your dress on. We’re leaving,” Drake grunts around the smoke hanging from his lips. His one eye narrows as he regards me in a sideways glance while he pulls on the cigarette.
I don’t respond. I obey him.
“You should’ve stayed for the meal,” Mr. Thanos utters, his tone tight with confusion. Something shifts in the air as the material slips over my slim frame. Once I’m clothed, Savage pulls his phone from his pocket, and I realize it’s been vibrating.
He puts it to his ear, then utters one word. “Now.”
Suddenly, the dining room doors fly open, and I’m on the floor in an instant with a heavy body cocooning me. A cry is wrenched from my throat. All I see is a swift movement of black, heavy boots thud on the floor. There’s a grunt, screams from the staff, and I feel dizzy. Everything moves too fast for me to figure out where the blood that’s drenching me is coming from, but the slick fluid is staining my skin.
