In the Land of Gods and Monsters, Part One

by Carmen Jenner

  “Fuck!”

  “He can’t see us here, Ares.” My brother grabs my shoulders, drawing me in until his forehead rests on my own, something we always used to do as kids. “It will ruin any chance we have of getting—”

  “You think I don’t fucking know that?” I snap.

  “Get packing,” he slurs. “I’m having one of Texas’s men drive us.”

  I nod, and follow my brother to the door. Slamming it firmly behind him, I take several deep breaths. Pet moves off the bed and sinks to her knees at my feet. “Sir?”

  I glance at her pretty face, gently tilt her chin up to me. “What is it, Pet?”

  “Who is Vladik?”

  Ruination. “You don’t need to know.”

  “Of course.” She bows her head and says, “It’s just when the devil looks at you with fear in his eyes at the mention of a man, it gives a girl cause to be curious, don’t you think?”

  “You think I’m the devil?”

  “I think you’re God and the Devil combined.”

  I’m neither of those things, but my ego inflates with her opinion of me. “Get up. Get dressed. We need to be long gone before Vladik gets here.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  ***

  We pull out of the drive as a black, stretch limo pulls in. The windows of the town car are tinted, and thank god, because one look at Hermes and me, and every member of the vehicle would be shot on sight, all except Pet. He’s far too opportunistic to kill a slave girl he could earn top dollar for, or worse, one he could add to his own staff.

  Once we’re several miles from the estate, I breathe easy, and both my brother and I stop looking over our shoulders. Hermes sits in the front beside the driver, and I put the divider up between us because I don’t like the way he’s scrutinizing my every move. He makes Pet uncomfortable, and I feel this strange sense of responsibility to protect her heart, now that I know it belongs to me.

  I’ll be breaking it soon enough.

  Pet curls in my lap. I toy with her hair and whisper, “Did you mean to leave me, Pet?”

  She shifts, turning her face up toward me though she can’t see through her blindfold. “Yes, I did. It was that or murder you in your sleep.”

  I give a humorless laugh. “And now, do you wish you had run?”

  “Sometimes.”

  I press a kiss to her hair, and trace my fingers lazily up and down her spine. “Me too.”

  She should have run. She should have fled as fast as she could, because soon we’re both going to regret that she didn’t.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Ares

  Later, when Pet’s sound asleep, I steal out of her room and walk through the house, finding my brother in the surveillance room. He’s going through old footage of my time with Pet in her cell. Pausing, rewinding, and freeze-framing the camera outside, the one positioned by the greenhouse.

  “What the fuck is this?” I demand.

  “You tell me, Brother.”

  “You don’t trust me.” It isn’t a question. I know my twin better than anyone. We shared a womb, and I can read him like a book. The problem with that is he can read me too, just as well.

  “You’re too fucking close to her.” He shakes his head, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up. “I should have seen it all along. I should have vetoed this shit the second you suggested it. How many times did you watch her dance before we took her?”

  “Enough to know that a pretty little ballerina like her is worth a fuckload at auction. Enough to know we’d finally have a slave worthy of bringing down Vladik.”

  He exhales the smoke, filling the space between us with the foul, putrid stench. “Bullshit. Have you forgotten why we do this? Have you thought about her at all? Even once?”

  “I know what’s at stake.”

  “Then I suggest you try to distance yourself from your little Pet, because it’s almost time, and I don’t need to tell you that if this goes south, it won’t just be Vladik that you will be running from.”

  “Get the fuck out, and let me do my job,” I say through my teeth.

  He holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m going. Just remember that that’s what she is: a job. A slave to be sold. She’s not your pet. She’s a commodity. And soon, she’ll be the end to all of our problems.”

  He brushes past, blowing smoke in my face, and knocks my shoulder as he leaves. A moment later, the front door slams behind him. I upend the chair in front of me and kick the shit out of it. Then I run my hands through my hair and take several deep breaths, watching Pet on the monitor.

  Her body is curled in a fetal position, her black hair splayed across the pillow like a spill of ink on parchment. She hasn’t moved since I left her. She’s too good. Too perfect, and far too tender-hearted to be my plaything. To be Vladik’s. He’ll break her in ways that I would never dream of. My gut twists in knots, and bile rises in my throat. I’m losing my fucking mind. My grip on reality. Hermes is right; she’s a slave. Soon she’ll be someone else’s slave. And the idea of that eats me alive.

  I pour myself a drink from the decanter on the desk and set the chair to rights as I watch her on the monitor. So fucking precious. So fucking mine. I pull up the computer screen and find the camera I want. I hit the pause button, and the footage of her room turns to black-and-white fuzz. Satisfied, I get up, knock back the rest of my whiskey, and head back to her. No doubt Hermes will have questions as to why I stopped the recording, but he can kiss my ass.

  I scan my handprint and walk through the door. Pet doesn’t stir, so I stride toward her and pull back the sheet.

  “Wake up, Pet,” I say, as I straddle her hips, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her awake.

  She groans and attempts to sit, but I slide my hand into her hair and crush my mouth to hers. She makes a startled sound, and I shove my tongue inside. It quickly turns to a moan. Fuck. I’m breaking all the goddamn rules, and I don’t give a shit. Like a good little slave, she keeps her hands by her side because I haven’t given her permission to touch me.

  I break the kiss and slide off her body, tugging the sheet from the bed. I roll it up and bind her wrists together, securing them to the headboard. I shove her knees towards her breasts and lower my head to her cunt. She’s so fucking wet for me. So hot, and so mine. I slide my tongue over her, one long, dirty lick from asshole to clit. I seal my lips over her clit and suck, and when her legs are quivering, her hole clenching, I bury my face in her and lick, suck, and bite. I eat her pussy like a starving man, until she is screaming and begging to be released. I let her come on my face, and then I tear off my jeans and plunge into her. She milks my dick. Her breaths are sharp and shallow. Her pussy muscles grip me so fucking hard I could blow my load in three seconds flat, but I grit my teeth and draw on everything I’ve learned in my time as a Dom about patience, stamina, and the importance of not giving into instant gratification. I take her hard. I fuck her rough, and when she begs to come again, I make her fucking wait for it.

  “Ares,” she whispers my name like a prayer. I should reprimand her for that. Instead, I kiss her deeply, knowing she can taste her sweet cunt on my tongue, wanting her to be as consumed by this need, by her pleasure and pain as I am.

  I fuck her until we’re both grunting, panting animals so consumed with need and carnality. I fuck her hard and deep, until we’re both raw, and I can’t come anymore.

  I fuck her for the last time, and when I’m done I wrap her in my arms because she’s mine. My Pet. And I don’t know how to give her up to someone else.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Pet

  I wake to a finger trailing softly along the line of my hip. I arch back into his touch. I love it when he wakes me like this, with reverent strokes, his erection at my back, and caresses that trail all the way up my body to my hairline. I let out a sleepy moan and snuggle farther into the bed and his warmth behind me.

  “Time to get up.”

  “Please, Sir, just five more minutes,” I
beg in a sleepy tone, closing my eyes and snuggling closer. His hand snakes around my waist in a vice grip.

  “I said, it’s time to get up, bitch,” he hisses in my ear.

  My hair stands on end. The hand cupping my breast feels alien as he pinches my nipple. It’s careless, lacking finesse, and not at all familiar.

  I swallow hard and attempt to roll over, but he won’t let me. His hand shoves between my thighs, stroking me with brutal abandon. More careless touches that I know now could never belong to Ares. His arms are covered by a long-sleeve button-up, and I see now there’s no ink anywhere in sight.

  “What’s the matter, Pet? You don’t like my hands on your cunt? You only like it when my brother touches you?”

  I elbow him in the ribs. He gasps for breath, clutching a hand to his chest while his mouth gapes open. I’ve winded him, and I use the precious seconds to spring free of the bed. “What the hell are you doing here? Where is Ares?”

  His eyes blaze with anger as he recovers. “He’s out running errands.”

  My face pales—I feel it. All the blood drains away at once.

  “That means you’re all mine for the next hour, at least.” He stands, towering over me.

  “I’m not yours; I’m his. I belong to Ares.”

  His laughter is loud, cutting, biting into my flesh, my ears, like a knife. “He hasn’t told you yet, has he?”

  “Told me what?”

  “You, princess, are a means to an end.” He tucks the hair back behind my ear. “You’re not his slave; you’re a slave. You’re to be sold.”

  My gut clenches, my mind reels, and my vision starts to spin. I back up against the armchair and heavily fall into it. Nausea rolls through me. I’m dizzy, and my heart must be cracking in two, because that’s the only reason I can explain the pain in my chest.

  “No,” I sob.

  “Yes.” He laughs again, but the pitying look he sends me has tears pooling in my eyes and falling over my cheeks unchecked. He crouches down in front of me and cups my face. “Did you really believe he would go to all of this trouble just to keep you? This room? You’re just one of many girls who’ve occupied it. What makes you think you’re any different? I bet he made you think you were special. You’re not. You’re a commodity, a pretty pussy to sell off to the highest bidder.”

  I swat him away. “Don’t touch me. You’re lying.”

  “If I’m lying then why are you shaking right now? Come on. You can’t possibly be this stupid, can you? Of course he was going to sell you. Ares can have any woman on her knees, but he’s spent months training you. You think that was just for his benefit? Don’t be so naïve, little girl. You’re nothing but a fuck toy who’s going to fetch a pretty price for us at market. That’s all.”

  I swipe at the tears on my cheeks and swallow the lump in my throat. Hermes’ eyes widen a fraction, and a cunning smile so familiar, so intrinsically Ares, plays across his face. “Oh, you sweet, stupid cunt. He doesn’t love you. My brother doesn’t give a fuck about you beyond getting paid. If he did, he would have let you go by now. Maybe he would have told you so you could be prepared. Either way, you’re nothing but a hole to fuck with a million-dollar price tag.”

  His words are like a slap in the face. Didn’t Ares prove as much at The Ranch? Maybe he didn’t disclose the fact that he planned to sell me, but I should have known with Israel, his Achilles.

  “You best get some rest, sweet pea. We can’t have you looking ragged, now can we?”

  “Fuck you!”

  He simpers again. “You wish, though I have to say, shoving my cock down your throat when you thought it was him was a whole lot of fun. We should do that again before you’re sold off.”

  He stands and walks toward the door, and presses his hand into the key pad. It lets out a strangled beep and opens. He walks through, and the door snicks softly closed behind him.

  I bow my head and sob into my hands. I was an idiot. To fall for my captor, a man who only cares about the price tag on my head. He let me fall in love with him. He let me think he felt something for me too. Not love—never that—but affection, certainly. He made me feel as if in his arms was the safest place in the world for me. Stupid, now that I think about it. How wrong that I should find comfort in the arms of the man who stole my life from me.

  I have to get out of here. I have to find a way out.

  I glance up at the ornate ceilings and know there’s no chance of escaping from this room, but perhaps in my closet, I might find a way into one of the ducts. I can’t believe I haven’t thought of that before now, but then, I guess I didn’t have a reason to leave before now. Ares made sure of it. I was fed, cleaned, clothed, and pleasured often. I had every one of my needs met. Every one. Sexually, he’d turned me into a masochist. Someone who not only enjoyed pain but who craved it. Every second, every blow, every lash. I loved what he did to me. I loved the way he destroyed me, and made me whole again.

  I sniff back my tears and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand, glaring at the room around me. The light by the door, the one that keeps me awake at night with its blinking red eye, is green. Green.

  I scramble off the chair and tiptoe as quietly and hurriedly as I can toward it. There’s no handle on the inside, but I dig my nails into the edge between the door and frame, and it swings back. I must stare at it for a full minute before comprehension sets in. It didn’t close. When that door closes, and the locks slide into place, it’s a heavy metallic sound, final, and despairing. I glance at the keypad. It’s blank where usually it emanates a soft blue glow.

  I take a deep breath, trying to process this new information. At any second Hermes or Ares could come walking through the door. There isn’t time to think. There’s no time to put on clothing or shoes. Or to set my birds free. I hate that my heart feels crushed by this weight. They’re just birds, and yet for the second time I pause so long on the precipice of freedom, I’m not sure I really want it at all. Hermes could be lying, but deep down I know he’s telling the truth. I think I knew the second I saw Israel.

  “Did you mean to leave me, Pet?” His voice in the car on the way back from The Ranch echoes through my mind. I’d never heard Sir sound so strange, so desolate, and the way he woke me last night, with needy hands and kisses? He was saying goodbye. Well fuck him! I will not be sold off like chattel.

  Just as I’m about to take a step forward, Hermes walks past, a phone pressed to his ear. He’s talking loudly, engrossed in an argument. He hasn’t noticed me or the partially open door. He thunders down the hall like a man hell-bent on silencing the person on the other end of the line with his fury alone.

  I tiptoe after him. I’ve only seen this hallway once before. I remember the darkness, how I ran right into Hermes and struggled for my freedom. Not this time. As silently as I can, I pick up a vase from the console table and follow quietly behind him. Then I leap through the air, smashing the vase over his head. He crumples to the floor. My hands burn and sting with the impact. I glance down at them. Cut to pieces. Red rivulets of blood mar my pale forearms. My whole body shakes from shock, fear, and adrenaline.

  He’s not dead. Get to the door, my mind screams, but I stand still. I can’t do anything but stare at his inert body. A creaking sound comes from the other end of the house, and I glance up. The hall is empty save for Hermes’ unmoving form. My feet propel me forward and I rush towards the front door. The one I almost reached in my first escape attempt. Sure enough, it’s armed with another of those fucking key pads. I glance up the hall. I need Hermes’ hand, but there’s no possibility that I could drag him all that way. I yank on the door handle, slamming my fist against it.

  “Come on, come on.”

  Behind me, I hear footsteps. I can’t turn around though. I would rather spend my last few seconds on Earth trying to escape than accepting that I’ll die in this damn cage.

  A hand slams against the door, and I shriek, but when I look at the long fingers, and the ink I’ve spent hours studying, both
terror and bittersweet rage war within me.

  Ares.

  “Going somewhere, Pet?”

  I sob and lean against the door as he pulls my hair away from the nape of my neck and presses a kiss to the soft flesh there. He snakes an arm around my waist and draws me back against him. I flinch at his touch, struggle in his grip, desperate to get away.

  “Shh.” His breath brushes the shell of my ear.

  “Y-you lied to me.”

  “I lied to us both.”

  “You’re going to sell me.”

  “No,” he whispers, and my heart seizes, but before I can ask what that means he slams his hand down on the keypad. It beeps, the lock unlatches, and the door opens.

  I turn in his grip. “What are you doing?”

  His jaw is tight, clamped shut. “Go,” he bites out the word.

  “What?”

  “Fucking go, Pet! Go before I change my mind.”

  I hesitate, my eyes glued to his, my feet cemented to the spot.

  He grabs my arms and forcefully shoves me through the doorway. “RUN!”

  My heart hammers against my ribs. The cold seizes my chest as I gulp in huge lungsful of air, and I turn and run down the icy stairs and onto a tree-lined street. Snow drifts line the sidewalk. Winter sinks deep into my bones, numbs my bare feet, freezes my heart. My senses are on overload. I don’t know what to do, what to look at first. People pass by without so much as looking at me. Oh my god, this whole time I’ve been in fucking Manhattan? I halt on the sidewalk, unable to breathe. I glance back at the doorway. Ares is no longer in it, but stalking down the steps toward me, as if he’s changed his mind. “You have three fucking seconds to disappear before I catch you, Pet.”

  I suck in a sharp breath, turn on my heel, and run, past a restaurant, a theatre, through an intersection. The streets are full of people. I don’t have time to stop because I can sense him right behind me. I tear through the streets, the pavement slick with ice. The adrenalin and fear keep the cold at bay for the most part, but my eyes and cheeks sting from the bitter wind. I dodge people in coats and scarves, rugged up against the bitter winter of New York. Some of them turn and look at me, others are quick to move out of my way. Everyone thinks I’m crazy. I can see it in their incredulous gazes. Why wouldn’t they? I’m dressed in only a pale pink slip, no shoes, no coat, running for my life as the devil chases me.