by Caris Roane
But Engles was safe from him. He’d long since made his decision and would stick with his plan, despite the fact that his nerves had grown ragged with waiting. He dreaded seeing Angelica walk down the runway.
The bids had already started and he feigned his interest in each woman, knowing that as the newest Starlin member he would be watched for a long time. Even sex slavery had a probationary period.
Many would be curious about him. Others, like Engles, would want to know how his loyalties fell. He had an organization to protect so no doubt everyone, including Reyes, would require continual surveillance and monitoring.
How did Reyes know? Because he would have done the same thing, left nothing to chance. Engles struck him as the same type of man, in complete control.
Reyes finished his whiskey, then ordered another, just to keep the edge off. The parade of captive women disgusted him. They were frightened by what was happening to them, and more than one had stumbled in her stilettos on the way down the polished wood runway.
He just had to get through the night, win his bid for one of the groups of five, then get the hell home.
But when the gavel came down to indicate that number nineteen had just been sold for one-million-five, his stomach twisted into a knot. The new owner lifted her off the stage and carried her to a dark corner. A muffled scream followed.
Reyes struggled to suppress his rage, reminding himself for the hundredth time to take the long view, that one day this organization would be toast.
Then Angelica appeared at the top of the runway and he fell to a place of intense stillness. Time flowed to a stop as he stared at her. He forgot for a moment where he was. He saw only her, the shape of her brown eyes, her straight nose, her full lips. She was an incredibly beautiful woman and carried herself like none of the others. He’d been right about her: even now her spirit showed.
Suddenly he wanted to be back at the Ocean Club, but instead of warning her away, he wanted her in his arms, wanted to take her home, to make her his. He could have protected her then, if only he’d known what was in store for her.
His gaze drifted down her body, to full breasts peaked in the cold room, her narrow waist, and the elegant line of her hips and legs. She had a narrow landing patch.
Unlike all the others, she at first refused to move, which caused the tension and interest in the audience to rise. But two doms with whips nudged her, and she finally moved forward.
Time resumed when the auctioneer started running through a list of assets, including her womanly dimensions and how many sex partners she’d had.
She moved slowly, glancing around the tables. No other slave had done that. Her expression slowly filled with disdain, her upper lip curled, her cheeks drawn back.
He wanted to warn her that these outward displays would only enflame the audience, but there was nothing he could do. He could only stare, like everyone else.
Her hair had been piled high on her head, revealing her long tapering neck, while a very long, leopard-patterned scarf, just a few inches wide, trailed from a feathered headdress over her right shoulder, partially covering one breast. She held the scarf in place by wrapping it around her arm as though she kept this one part of her body sacred.
She had no idea that an attempt at modesty and the look of defiant disgust in her eyes would have the opposite effect, making her more and not less desirable.
He felt the interest of the vampires around him like a wave through the room as the tension level ratcheted up.
She paused halfway down the runway and threw her arms wide. “You’re all a bunch of fucking perverts. What’s wrong with you people? Can’t you see that what you’re doing is vile? That it goes against every honorable code of humanity?”
The crowd erupted, not in disapproval, but rather in a sudden flood of bids. She looked confused now, not understanding what was happening.
But Reyes did. She’d just set herself up as a sadist’s dream, an innocent, worthy woman ready to fight.
The auctioneer shouted above the din, “I have two hundred thousand, do I have three? Three, do I have four?” The number kept escalating, and quickly.
He saw her mouth move and extended his hearing. Her voice had dropped to a confused whisper. “What’s happening? I don’t understand.”
He glanced at Engles, who was now on his feet, his face red as he called out a bid that launched the number to two million.
Two million. So fast.
Slowly, Angelica lowered her arms. She searched the crowd, trying to make sense of her surroundings. She pivoted, looking perhaps for one person who would stand with her against this terrible crime.
Reyes rose to his feet and moved next to the runway as so many others had, needing to see her defiance close up. He now stood no more than three yards away from her.
When she met his gaze, her lips parted. She shook her head several times. “No,” she murmured. She looked at him with a question in her eyes; then the answer seemed to dawn on her and her gaze grew cold. “So you’re one of them.”
He nodded slowly, still staring at her as the bids kept climbing toward four million, Engles leading the way. She searched his eyes and he saw profound disappointment, but she couldn’t possibly know what it would cost him to support her right now.
He had a role to play and lives to save. He had his cover to protect.
But even as he made up his mind, a different kind of drive rose up in him, one that involved getting her off the stage so that all these other men would stop looking at her.
In a strong voice, and against every ounce of reason, he shouted, “Five million.”
“I have five million from one of our newer bidders, Reyes of the Venezuelan system.”
The crowd fell silent.
“Do I hear five-million-one-hundred-thousand?”
Engles suddenly called out. “Reyes, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Reyes glanced at Engles. “I want the woman.” He even offered a show of fangs, just to let Engles know he meant what he said.
Engles met his gaze, staring at him hard, but Reyes kept glaring back. “My bid stands. You offering more?”
Engles slowly shook his head. “You’ll regret this one day.”
Reyes turned in the direction of the auctioneer. “Five million,” he reiterated in a loud voice.
That old saying, a pin drop, fit the moment. No one contradicted Engles who didn’t have a death wish.
The gavel came down in a hard crack. “Sold, the human Angelica, to the bidder Brogan Reyes.”
He moved swiftly toward the stage and held out his hand to Angelica.
“Fuck that.” She turned away, moving toward the stage proper. The two doms now stood at the top of the runway, whips in hand, ready to take charge of her if needed.
She topped in her tracks. “Shit.”
His decision to buy her might have been impulsive and incredibly stupid, but if he didn’t want to lose the entire game, he knew exactly what he had to do. He had to make her submit to him right now, in front of his peers.
Rising into the air, he levitated in her direction. Her eyes opened wide as she stared at him. “You’re flying. Are you on wires or something?”
She didn’t even know the truth about the world she’d entered. As he landed, he caught her around the waist in a grip so tight that she cried out in pain. “You’re hurting me.”
A slight roll of laughter moved through the audience. “Just the beginning, sweetheart,” a voice called out.
“Fuck you,” she shouted at the crowd.
But he gripped her harder until she turned to stare at him and felt silent. “Let’s get something clear right now. You belong to me from this night forward. You’re my slave, Angelica. Got it?”
He hated that this worthy woman would also have to learn the art of adopting a hated role, but it couldn’t be helped. He’d just saved her life, although that was something she probably wouldn’t understand for some time yet. But more than anything, he ne
eded her to submit to him in front of his fellow Starlin members.
She turned to stare at him, her eyes wide with horror. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I just bought you at auction, you’re my slave, and you need to learn your place. I want you to show these fine people that you understand your new role.”
Using a pressure point between her shoulder and neck, he pinched hard.
She cried out in pain. Inwardly, he recoiled, disgusted at himself for hurting her, but it couldn’t be helped. He pushed down on her at the same time so that she began to lower to her knees.
A spattering of applause rolled through the club.
He kept up the pressure until she’d landed on the wood runway, her hand gripping the back of his leg for support.
“Stop, please stop.”
“What do you call me, Angelica? Use the correct address, and the pain will go away.”
She looked up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I can’t believe this is who you are.”
The look in her eyes of pain and disappointment tore at him, but he couldn’t stop now. He’d already made an enemy of the one man he’d needed to keep on his good side; if he didn’t uphold his cover now, he’d never get inside the Starlin inner circle, find the name of the man who ruled this group.
“Then I guess you never really knew me.” He smiled, still pinching her hard. “Now what’s my name? What do you call me from this moment forward?”
He increased the pressure so that she cried out again.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what to call you.”
“It’s simple: master. You call me master. Say it, loud enough for everyone to hear.”
“Master.”
“Louder, slave.”
“Master. Master.”
“One more time. What do you call me?”
“I call you master.”
“We finally understand each other. Good.”
He released his hand from the slope of her neck and she fell forward, facedown on the runway.
Applause resounded from the ballroom, letting him know he was on the right track.
Turning to the doms, he called out, “I want shackles brought to me right now, for both wrists and ankles, preternaturally charged.” When they stared at him slack-jawed, he shouted in a resonant voice, “Do it now.”
The men leaped like he’d struck them, though they were thirty feet away. Angelica remained prone, only partially conscious. Half a minute later the doms returned, levitating in swift flight down the runway. A few seconds more and the job was done, the shackles sealed and cutting into her skin.
A third burst of applause sounded and he knew he’d finally done his job well enough. Though he would be wise to stay and parade her around, Angelica was in serious pain now and he’d had enough.
Leaning down, he gathered her up in his arms.
She moaned softly, regaining consciousness. “My arms and legs hurt and I think my wrists are bleeding.” Her speech was slurred.
He hated that he’d hurt her so much. Unfortunately for her, things were about to get even more complicated. For one thing, he intended to shift into altered flight, a form of teleportation that would allow him to pass through solid matter. He’d be moving fast to get her out of the building, but that level of speed always hurt the average human.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “But this next bit is really going to cause some pain.”
Without trying to explain further, he flew her straight through the cavern wall. Her screams echoed in his ears, but she might as well get adjusted to her new reality as soon as possible.
Within his mind, he formed a picture of the two-story mansion he’d had built not far from the Starlin headquarters and like a homing beacon, the location drew him in. Within seconds he landed in his foyer.
He was about to explain that they’d be heading to Engles’s after-auction gala, but Angelica pulled from his arms, whirled, and threw up all over his entry rug. She shook head-to-foot, the long scarf trailing in the vomit.
Holding her arm in a strong grip, he held her upright.
His housekeeper appeared. “Master Reyes? What’s going on?”
“Mathilde, we have an addition to the household, a human. I just flew her in and she’s airsick.”
Mathilde frowned as her gaze took in the shackles. “Master, what have you done?”
“Just fix her some tea and get her a robe. Do it now.”
“Yes, master.” She left the room, heading back to the kitchen.
Angelica groaned and tried to lift a hand to her head, but the shackles prevented her. She stared at them. “You’ve bound me with chains? Oh, God, my head hurts almost more than I can bear. And my arms feel like they’re on fire.”
“You’ll be fine in a few minutes.”
He reached up and unpinned the headdress, letting it fall to the carpet away from her feet.
A moment later Mathilde and several of her housekeeping staff returned to help with Angelica. The women bundled her up in a robe and led her away. Even one of the maids turned and scowled at him. They’d all been slaves at one time or another and each knew exactly what preternaturally charged shackles felt like.
Of course, they couldn’t know he’d just saved Angelica’s life by buying her at auction.
For five million.
His turn to groan. What had he done? What impulse had led him to throw so many careful plans to the wind?
He could have saved five women tonight and cemented his position in the slavery community at the same time. Instead he’d used up a helluva lot of goodwill to rescue just one. And he’d made an enemy of Engles, the one man he’d needed to placate.
A string of obscenities flew through his head.
Mathilde returned. “We can’t get the shackles off. Master, where did you get this woman?”
Two of the servants returned with buckets of water and sponges to work on the rug.
He moved past his housekeeper, a woman who had been with him for two decades now, and gestured with a wave of his hand for her to follow him. Part of him felt a compulsion to tell her the truth or at least some part of what had happened, but more than anything he needed to salvage his efforts to get into the belly of the Starlin Group.
Which meant he needed to figure out what to do with Angelica.
He moved into his library and waved her in, shutting the door behind her. “This woman is my slave and will be until I tell you otherwise.”
Mathilde glared at him. “Your slave? I can’t believe it. You, of all men, when you’ve been so tolerant.”
“The past doesn’t matter. She’s my slave now, this is my domain and you’re my servant. And you are not to question my decision or to speak of this to anyone outside my employ. Do you understand?”
“Yes, master.”
“You’ll be receiving a large parcel from Starlin in the next few minutes. I want everything unpacked as soon as possible.”
“Yes, master.” She pinched her lips together. “I just don’t understand how you could do this. I lost a most beloved sister to slavers.”
He kept his face impassive, but her horror and disgust mirrored his own. “I will treat her kindly, Mathilde. She will come to no harm on my watch, you for one should know that. I will only tell you that had I not bought her, Engles would have had her.”
She gave a small cry, a hand pressed to her chest. Engles had bought Mathilde’s sister at auction, and by all accounts she’d died in the middle of one of his sessions with her. Afterward he’d dumped her in the nearest ocean graveyard.
Tears touched her eyes. “These are terrible times in our world.”
“Yes, they are, but she’s to be my slave now.”
Mathilde nodded, but her shoulders sagged. “Very well, but the shackles have hurt her. Can you at least have them removed?”
“Of course. I’ll do it now.”
Chapter Three
Angelica lay on a bed in what the housekeeper had told her was Reyes’s
guest suite. The kind woman had taken the pins from her hair, removed her ridiculously thick false eyelashes, and wiped her face. For all of that, she found herself grateful. Despite the amount of pain she was in, she wanted out of this horrible costume, every bit of evidence removed and destroyed that she’d ever been on that disgusting runway.
“The master will be here soon to remove the shackles. I’m sure of it.”
Tears streamed from her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to cry, but she was in physical agony from the steady pulse in her head as well as the horrible sensations flowing up both her arms and legs. A painful sensation, like an electrical charge, emanated from the point that the shackles pressed against her skin.
And Reyes had done this to her, the man who just a week ago she’d wanted to take home with her, the man she’d kissed, the man she’d thought was the one.
Now she had an entirely different view of him. It seemed he wasn’t a man at all, but a beast, an animal, just like her jailers and all those people who’d participated in the auction.
She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the tears to stop.
She realized that she had truly known nothing about the man she’d craved for months. The darkness she’d seen in him, which she’d understood as some kind of black ops background, had been far worse than anything she could have imagined.
Brogan Reyes was a slaver.
A slaver in some kind of alternate world that she found herself trapped in. The way they’d flown here and all the oddities she’d witnessed during her captivity confirmed it. When the housekeeper and the other servants left the room, she would have started looking for an escape route if she hadn’t been in so much pain. As it was, she could only lie still and endure.
The door opened and her captor entered the room.
“Angelica, turn toward me and I’ll get the shackles off.”
Cringing at the sound of his voice, she rolled on the bed, unable to pull the robe around her; once more she lay exposed. The shackles were heavy, and a short chain between each set prevented much movement.
He looked damn serious as he knelt beside the bed with a tool in his hand that sort of looked like a screwdriver.
“Is this going to hurt more than it already does?”