Debase

by Rachel Van Dyken

  I barked out a laugh. “What the hell does that even mean?”

  “It means, one day you’re going to lose it, and it’s going to be ugly, and you’re going to hurt whoever is on the other end of your rage, I would hate to hear that it’s that pretty girl who looks like she’d rather play with Serena and Junior than talk with the wives. A girl whose strength is completely born out of necessity, and whose eyes hold no hope whatsoever when she looks at you. That, would be tragic.”

  Her brother had done that to her, not me. I wasn’t the guilty one. I hadn’t taken her innocence, and I never would.

  “Calling the kettle black a bit, aren’t you?”

  “I own my darkness.” Phoenix stood. “I embrace it with both arms. You, my friend, justify it.”

  He hung up on me.

  I wanted my knife.

  I wanted to justify throwing it into his back.

  Phoenix just had to offer up his advice, didn’t he?

  I wondered if she knew that I’d made a pact to keep the families safe, that I would die to protect the wives, the children. That I had two jobs: figure out how to take down this club, the last club my father owned, once and for all, and make sure that the wives were never left unprotected if anything happened to their husbands.

  I secretly loved them.

  I secretly respected them.

  And I would take that secret to my grave. My intense need to protect them from a fate she’d already faced.

  It’s why I’d taken time out of my busy schedule to warn Luc of Chase’s darkness, of his need to kill every last remaining De Lange.

  I tried to save Luc.

  And I almost failed.

  “You did good, tonight, six thirty-two, very good.” I reached for her, put my hand on her thigh only for her to jerk away from me.

  “You should have told me from the beginning… that I’d traded one owner for another, one master for another… you shouldn’t have cleaned me, shouldn’t have fed me. You should have let me bleed while I serviced you. He was right you know… I’m nothing but a whore.”

  “Stop the car.” I was barely in control of my rage. “Stop the fucking car!”

  The car jerked to a stop along the highway. I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her out to the gravel road and slammed her against the side of the vehicle.

  She squeezed her eyes shut.

  And turned her head away.

  I cupped her chin, forcing her to look at me as I reached for her breasts, shoving my other hand inside her coat and running it down her hips until I gripped her ass.

  She let out a shriek before I slammed my mouth against hers, I wasn’t thinking beyond teaching her a lesson as I dug my fingers into her hair, deepening the kiss, forcing her to open her mouth while I drank.

  I jerked my head away and whispered coldly in her ear. “A whore would have moaned, not shrieked, a whore would have given me a price. A whore would have spread…” I gripped her thighs and stepped between her legs spreading them apart. “Just like this.” I rested my head against her neck. “You’re not a whore. I just needed them to think you are.” I stepped back. “Satisfied?”

  I didn’t see it coming.

  Because I didn’t expect her to fight.

  Not until I felt the sting of her slap across my cheek as her fingertips burned into my ice-cold skin.

  “Now I’m satisfied,” she hissed.

  We locked eyes; hers were filled with barely restrained blue fury as she stared me down.

  “I can’t decide…” I trailed my gloved finger down her jaw and dragged it across her bottom lip. “What I enjoyed more. The kiss or the slap.”

  “I can demonstrate the slap again if you want.”

  I smirked. “No, that’s okay.”

  Her lower lip trembled.

  Shit.

  I hung my head and muttered. “Get in the car, Alice.”

  It wasn’t until we pulled up to the club that I realized, I didn’t say “six thirty-two.”

  And as the door opened to let me out, I realized.

  I’d suddenly done the unthinkable.

  And made it personal.

  Fucking Phoenix.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Alice

  MY HANDS WERE shaking as Andrei led me back into the club, back to the prison, back to the place where he’d most likely take advantage of me just like my brother did, then toss me when he got bored.

  His kiss proved nothing.

  It was to punish me.

  To show me his place.

  To remind me of mine.

  And I hated that I liked the way his lips felt.

  The way my body responded when it absolutely shouldn’t have. It’s why I slapped him, because I was angry and embarrassed that he would use it against me when he had to know what it cost me to give it.

  What it cost me to even reveal it.

  I kept my stare straight ahead as he grabbed me by the hand and led me past couples making out in the hall. The women all wore black and red, and on their ankles were the little lock tattoos, something every single one of them had in common.

  A reminder that they were owned?

  Chained without actual chains?

  “The tattoos,” I whispered. “Do I get one?”

  Andrei stopped walking, causing me to crash into his back. I recovered just in time for his icy blue stare to lock on mine. “Is that what you want?”

  I gulped. “What I want is to be free, and I don’t like pain so no I don’t want a tattoo. I’m just asking so I can mentally prepare myself.”

  He let out a sigh that sounded more annoyed than angry. “We’ll discuss this later.”

  “No.” I stood my ground.

  A muscle twitched in his jaw as he raised his right hand and gripped my chin, the leather gloves felt hot against my skin. “I said,” he whispered coldly, “we’ll discuss this later.”

  I didn’t realize people were staring until he dropped his hand, and then he flashed me a smile so seductive, so endearing I almost turned around to make sure I wasn’t mistaken that it was for me.

  I frowned.

  Only encouraging him more.

  “Come.” He pulled me roughly into his arms and kissed my neck.

  I sucked in a breath as his hot kisses moved down to my collarbone, pulling my fur to the side while he toyed with the material of the dress. My knees almost buckled as he assaulted me with something so simple.

  A kiss.

  He sucked on my collarbone, his tongue swirling along my skin and causing goose bumps to erupt up and down my body.

  I trembled in his arms, and then his lips were on my ear. “Remember what I said… they need to see ownership, or you’re fair game. And if you’re fair game, you can expect one of those ugly tattoos within the hour, so decide…”

  “Decide?” I said it too breathlessly.

  He chuckled darkly. Bastard. I hated him. I hated him.

  “Are you mine?” He pressed his body against mine and walked me backward toward a wall then grabbed my hands, pinning them over my head as he continued his assault on my left shoulder. My fur coat dropped to my waist as he used his teeth and tongue to kiss along my other collarbone.

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “It’s me or them,” he hissed, then bit my skin enough to leave a mark as he stopped kissing me and pressed his forehead to mine. “That’s as bad as it gets with me, dorogaya.”

  My body swayed as he pressed against me, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. He was solid muscle and radiating sex like he was used to getting exactly what he wanted and knew all the tricks to get there.

  “Come,” he snapped, releasing my hands and wrapping an arm around me. We walked through the VIP section of the club, past a security guy with dark hair and light blue eyes. He looked from me to Andrei and then stepped in front of Andrei when he tried to open a solid silver door.

  “Boss.” He crossed his arms. “We have men entertaining in the vault.”

  “Better sh
e see it now than later, better she know now,” he muttered. “Open the damn door.”

  “Right away, Boss.” He pushed away from the door and slid a card over it. “Did you want me to bring you champagne?”

  “We won’t be staying long, Ax.”

  “Hmm.” Ax eyed me up and down again and then nodded. “Am I adding to my list of secrets and favors, Russian?”

  “May as well.” Andrei grumbled. “We all die someday.”

  “That we do.” Ax sighed. “Blood in, no out.”

  “Sangue in non mai fuori,” Andrei repeated.

  Blood in, never out. His Italian was flawless, like he’d been born speaking the language.

  I gaped and then was pulled through the dark corridor and into a small space with nothing but windows overlooking a huge concrete area. The glass looked super thick, and when I looked to the left and right there were several other boxes that looked like this one, like something you’d see at a theater, with full red curtains ready to pull in front of the window.

  “That,” Andrei said in a lethal voice, “is what you get with them.”

  He pointed down at the cement looking stage.

  “Nobody’s down there.”

  He sighed, grabbed a small silver remote with two buttons, and hit the red one twice.

  Slowly a curtain was pulled from the back of the stage and a woman hung there by her wrists bound over her head, wearing nothing but a ripped dress. She had a gag in her mouth, and the man in front of her had a cat tail whip in his hand.

  Rock music blared in the sound system as the woman struggled, blood streamed from her face, making a trail all the way down her body as it dripped down her toes. Her eyes were wild as the man hit her across the thighs again and again, then dropped the whip and pulled off his blood stained shirt and jerked his pants down.

  He had a similar remote to Andrei and hit a button, the woman was suddenly lowered, her hands still tied above her head.

  The man walked up to her and flipped her around and started thrusting into her, as her blood caked his hands, the same hands running up and down her body.

  “Enough.” My voice shook as tears slid down my cheeks. “Make him stop!”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that, dorogaya. He’s paid for his time with her, and she’s signed a contract she can’t get out of.”

  “But he’s raping her! He’s going to kill her!”

  “We have good doctors.”

  “That’s what you say?!” I roared. “That you have good doctors? Are those doctors going to sew up her broken heart? Are they going to give her back her decency? Take away her humiliation? Her shame? Are they going to wipe her memory of this, so she doesn’t wake up every night screaming?”

  “No.” Andrei pressed the red button as the curtain started moving around the window blanketing us in near darkness. “Our doctor will make her comfortable as she takes her last breath.”

  “You’re a monster,” I hissed, hating that I’d enjoyed his kiss and the way I felt in his arms when I’d already seen my fair share of horror at my brother’s hands.

  What the hell had I been thinking?

  Letting this man touch me?

  With blood on his hands.

  This man who owned a place where women were sexual objects and looked forward to death!

  “Make your choice, six thirty-two.”

  “Wh-what?”

  “You have three seconds.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Monster.” He gritted his teeth and took a step toward me, then pointed at the window. “Or man.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath, squeezed my eyes closed and whispered, “Monster.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Andrei

  I COULD FEEL her trembling next to me even though I wasn’t touching her. I had to show her what her choices were, and yet, I still didn’t give her the third option.

  Death at the point of Chase’s gun.

  We made it back to my apartment quickly.

  I shut the door.

  I locked it.

  And I watched as she dropped her fur coat on the back of the couch and then leaned over it, visibly trembling, like she needed to catch her breath, maybe say a prayer to a God who clearly wasn’t listening all those times she was being touched by her brother.

  A God who never listened when I begged for my own death, for solace every birthday.

  We were a pair of souls that were never heard, lost, forgotten.

  More in common than not.

  As much as she would hate to know that.

  “There is one more option…” I walked up to her and rested a gloved hand on her right shoulder slowly turning her body toward mine. “One that I haven’t given you.”

  “What?” Her voice was hollow, her eyes dead as she stared down at the floor. That’s when I knew: her brother hadn’t stolen all of her hope. No, I had done that, I had stolen the last piece of hope in her body in order to keep her safe, in order to make her mine.

  In order to save a life she seemed to not even want.

  “Ask me,” I whispered, my body straining to do something other than rest a fucking leather glove against her skin.

  Like kiss her.

  Tell her the words no one ever told me.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  “It has to be.”

  Because that would be a lie.

  And I couldn’t do that to her.

  Just as much as I couldn’t live with the lie on my lips, released into the universe manifesting itself, twisting around us in its dark ugliness.

  A tear slid down her cheek.

  I caught it with my finger and cupped her face. “Ask me.”

  “If I die, he wins, and I can’t let him win. You gave me his tongue after all… I’ll see it through.” She swayed toward me, I caught her with both hands and held her there, afraid of what would happen if I was pressed against her again, if I had to smell her, if I tasted her. It was ruining my calm facade, because she was so fucking good.

  And I wasn’t, was I?

  I had a sex club where men killed women for pleasure.

  And even though I saved who I could.

  I fully damned the rest.

  I was that man.

  I wasn’t a savior.

  I was the monster she believed I was, and it would be cruel to make her think otherwise.

  “And after you see this through, dorogaya?”

  “What does that mean?” she snapped. “Whore in Russian?”

  I would take that to my grave.

  My very early grave.

  Because a part of me, the part that still craved… something, couldn’t call her six thirty-two all the time. But I couldn’t utter her name again, not out loud, not when it felt so innocent falling from my lips.

  And wrong, so wrong that I would do anything to protect her from what it meant… when a man like myself said a name out loud.

  She finally lifted her head, glaring at me. Her anger was back. Good. It would help her survive. “Are you calling me a whore again?”

  “That depends, are you spreading your legs for me?” I gripped one of her thighs with my hands. “It’s an easy answer, since you’re willing to bite off my ear before letting me pull any part of you apart, and believe me when I say, you’d enjoy it… immensely.”

  Her eyes searched mine. “I can’t.”

  “Can’t what?”

  “Enjoy anything…” She gulped as her cheeks flushed. “That way.”

  My nostrils flared as I leaned in and whispered, “He should die for that.”

  “According to you, he will.”

  I leaned back. “I’m not calling you a whore. It’s a term of endearment.”

  Her eyes widened. “What sort of—”

  I covered her mouth with my hand. “Your questions are exhausting. You,” I said pointedly. “Even more so.”

  The fierceness of her gaze would feed me for days, the way she stiffened beneath my touch, ready to bite m
y fingers off.

  Her fight.

  It was her fight, wasn’t it?

  That and the way she lay on her bed like a fucking queen taking court, waiting for her loyal subjects to serve her.

  She was magnificent, and she didn’t even know it.

  Better that way.

  Better that she couldn’t reach pleasure from a man.

  Because I wasn’t a man capable of giving her that.

  “Tomorrow,” she said in a quieter voice. “Are you just going to keep me locked up in here indefinitely? Now that I know I don’t spread my legs for the great Andrei Petrov?”

  I hated my last name.

  Hated the memories it conjured up.

  Men addressed my father by Petrov.

  They addressed me by Andrei.

  Putting the two together put me in a completely shitty mood, and I was already all the way there.

  “Do whatever the hell you want, just stop asking so many questions. My trigger finger’s been feeling… aggressive.” I smirked.

  She scowled and looked down.

  I wanted more than anything for the fire to be directed at me, not our shoes, but I was all out of demands to give and I knew if I kept engaging her, she’d never stop, and I needed sleep.

  With a sigh, I stepped away and walked down the hall to my private room. I heard footsteps stomping after me around one second later. I made it as far as my door before I leaned against it and uttered. “What the hell could you possibly want?”

  “A job.”

  I stared at the wood paneling and wondered if I’d ever been stunned into silence like that in my entire life.

  And then I stared some more as I looked over my shoulder at the fire in her eyes. “A job?”

  “I can’t just sit around, that’s what my brother and father did, they locked me, they—” Tears filled her eyes. “I’m not stupid, if I’m not your whore that means that I’m something, that means I’m either already dead or you’re keeping me hidden to use me later, I get that, but until later happens, until I breathe my last breath, I’d like to do… something, anything! And if you say clean the kitchen…”

  I smirked at that. “What? You don’t like cleaning dishes?”

  “Your dishes are spotless, and you know it.”