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I glowered at him, hatred seeping from my pores. This was what Zayne Wilson brought me back to life for—to be raped and tortured, sold to the highest bidder for a night. Over and over.
Ashkov stood, throwing the girl to the ground. She whimpered as he walked toward me, dragging the chain and her behind him.
“You have a short dick,” I said with a snort. If he were going to do his worst, I would at least speak my mind. At this point, I had nothing to lose. “Is that why you have to buy women? Because once they see your little nub, they laugh and leave?”
He raised an open hand and slapped my cheek, forcing my neck to snap back. I closed my eyes, allowing the sting to carry me away from this hell for a fleeting moment. A gasp escaped me as my pussy was gently touched, sending slivers of pleasure coursing through me. Glancing down, my attention ended up on the girl while she peered at me, her tongue lapping at my sensitive flesh. She was priming me for him.
She spread my lips apart, and my sex responded without permission. My chest heaved while she skillfully played with my body as though she’d owned it herself.
I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, unwilling to cry out as my orgasm uncurled in the pit of my stomach, and I tensed and trembled with bliss. The worst part of being raped was the guilt ripping through me if I unwillingly gave way to the pleasure. That only happened if the sick fucks wanted to play with my head, too—screw with me mentally.
Ashkov laughed as he walked behind me and spread my ass cheeks. He first dipped his fingers in the juices of my orgasm, then shoved one in my puckered hole, causing me to suck in a breath as pain shot through me.
“Ever hear of lube, motherfucker?” I’d officially lost any sense of self-preservation. Ashkov was right. There was nothing special about me—except that I had fight and fire.
“Lube is for the weak, my little ballerina.”
My nostrils flared with the sound of the pet name. I hated being referred to as … a scream filled the air as a sharp wave of sickening agony speared me, and the skin on my lower back pulsed with heat.
Ashkov moved a knife in front of my face, the blade burning a bright orange. The tip neared my nipple, and I sucked in a breath. “Please don’t. I’ll do anything you want, but don’t burn me again.” My body trembled against the restraints as Ashkov strolled in front of me like nothing was wrong, as if he hadn’t just burned my back with a hot blade. Sweat beaded on my spine and slicked between my breasts. My pulse whirred with fear. I gasped for air, struggling not to vomit from the horrible throbbing sensation at the base of my spine.
“My beautiful ballerina, you have the most amazing scream I’ve ever heard. I want to hear it again and again as I carve up your perfect body, lick the blood from your skin, then rub my cock in it before I fuck you over and over. But before you take me inside that tight cunt of yours, I have something special, just for you.” The tonelessness of his voice petrified me as he looked in the distance.
I followed his gaze, and tears streamed down my cheeks. “A gl-glass soda bottle?” I choked out.
“I promise to make you come again. After all, I’m a gentleman and always take care of the ladies’ needs first.” His soulless laugh filled the air as he pierced my skin, then dragged the tip of his knife between my breasts, blood seeping and creating a thin line down my stomach.
“Oh yes.” He ran his tongue over the cut, grunting as the girl on her knees massaged his balls.
The restraints barely moved as I jerked my body in desperation, trying to escape his knife while he made multiple cuts across my skin. He dropped to his knees as he carved into my flesh and my screams of horror tore through me. If I lived through this, I swore that I would hunt Ashkov down and kill him … slowly.
Black dots danced before my eyes, the pain excruciating as he continued. Dull razor blades slicing my skin open would have felt better. I clung to that vision of him dying, begging and pleading for mercy as I ended his life.
He walked away, only to return mere seconds later, his tongue licking over his lips in a salacious manner. Without warning, Ashkov shoved the bottle inside me, scraping my inner walls and stretching me beyond what I thought imaginable. As he raped me, I struggled to find something to use as a distraction, to connect with any thought that might help me keep my sanity. But only one man’s face came into my mind. As much as I loathed Zayne Wilson, he was becoming the salvation for my scarred soul. Yes, I hated him with every fiber of my being, but there was also something else. As hard as I’d tried to ignore it, from the moment of our introduction, I knew he was different than any other man I’d been around. I just couldn’t trust him yet, but something kept drawing me to him.
As my consciousness teetered on the edge of oblivion, I tapped into my imagination and brought my bodyguard to the forefront, desperate not to be mentally present while Ashkov hurt me.
Agony ripped through me, tearing me away from that guarded place with Zayne. Screaming again, I was no longer able to focus. Unable to remain coherent, I welcomed the darkness when she cloaked me in the safety of her arms.
11
Zayne
The gloomy morning that had settled over Spokane didn’t help my mood one bit. After I’d seen my friends, I couldn’t push the negative thoughts out of my head about Giselle. Donovan was a piece of shit, to say the least, and his treatment of her made me want to poke around into who that douchebag really was. Other than having a hot spot for assholes who manhandled women, something continued to nag at me about the whole situation, but I couldn’t put my finger on it yet.
I pulled the company-owned Mercedes into Donovan’s driveway and parked in front of the garage. Having Westbrook Security provide a car for me wherever a job was made being rootless even that much easier. After ensuring that I had my phone, wallet, and keys, I climbed out of the car and locked it. My distrust of this man was bone-deep. Smoothing my black company polo shirt and khaki slacks, I went to the mansion’s entrance and rang the doorbell, fully expecting Marty to answer.
The door swung open, and my gaze landed on Donovan. His concerned expression piqued my interest. “Good morning.” Donovan adjusted his navy tie. “I apologize. I didn’t realize what time it was, and I should have called you sooner. Giselle has fallen ill, and I need to take care of her.”
Was this guy for real?“Are you sure? I’ve been around plenty of sick people. My immune system is pretty good.” I folded my hands in front of me, eyeing Donovan behind my sunglasses.
“I suspect it will be a few days. I’ll call when it’s okay to return. I would feel bad if you came down with whatever she has. The doctor will check on her today, so I’m sure she’ll be better soon.”
Unease peppered my skin. Donovan was lying. The first few minutes that Pierce and I had spent with him, I spotted his tell—he fiddled with his tie, then the cuffs of his shirt. He would make a horrible poker player unless he wore a T-shirt.
“Okay. I’ll wait for you to reach out.”
“Of course. Again, I’m sorry that I didn’t call before you showed up. Hopefully you’ll enjoy the time off.” Donovan glanced at his watch, attempting to disguise the unsettled look that had registered on his face.
