“So pink already. I see Atticus and Violet went easy on you.” He pokes at one of the bruises Violet left with her cane. I wriggle on his lap, trying my best to escape his prodding fingers without drawing attention to it. “Too fucking easy. Amateurs.”
Heat scalds my cheeks. I don’t know if I’ll be punished for seeking out another Master in my Sir’s absence.
“I bet you liked that, didn’t you, Pet? You liked the fact that Atticus was a sucker for your pretty face, and this beautiful ass.” He grips my cheek hard. I yelp and resist the urge to squirm. “Did he fuck you in this perfect ass? Did you come for him?”
I don’t say a word. I’m too afraid my voice will betray me. I have my Sir back. He came for me. He took me because he wants me. I should be deliriously happy, but the shame and humiliation he brings to the forefront tortures me as surely as his hands do. Tears spring up in my eyes. A hard slap on my ass has it stinging. I cry out.
“Answer me, Pet.”
“Yes, Sir. He fucked my ass. Yes, I came for him, and her. Always.”
“How many times?”
“I don’t know, Sir.”
“You don’t know?” His tone is disapproving.
“No.”
“Then how will I know how many times to punish you?”
“I didn’t want anyone else. I didn’t want anyone but you. But you left me!” Tears stream down my face, thick and fast, as if a dam has broken and now, I’ll never be able to stop it.
He rains down blow after blow on my tender flesh. My skin is hot, my body on fire with both the need to come and the desire for him to stop. I put my hand back to protect myself, but he grabs it and hooks it behind my back, threading my fingers with his.
“I let you go, Pet. Because I couldn’t stand to see you sold. Not for you to go and find the first fucking Dom in a five-mile radius and offer up my pussy to him.”
“You let me go.” I sob.
“Careful, Pet. I could always send you away again.”
“No.” I attempt to sit, but he holds me firmly in place with the hand at my back. “Sir, Please? I’ll do whatever you want.”
“I know,” he says, stroking my razed flesh. “My sweet, sweet, Pet. You don’t know how hard it was living without you. How angry you made me when you slept with that piece-of-shit excuse for a Dom. The cop I could forgive. Your father had you locked away in a tower like a vestal virgin. It’s understandable you were lonely, and Maximus was there, ready to protect. Ready to fuck my sweet cunt in my absence. Did that bumbling idiot know where to find your little button, Pet? Or did you have to show him? Did you play with yourself? Did you touch my pussy?”
I sniff through my tears and raise my head, though I can’t see him. “Every night, Sir.”
Laughter follows. “Of course you did, you greedy little whore.”
He rakes his blunt fingernails across my ass. It burns. Goosebumps break out over my body. I shiver and writhe on his lap, deliberately bumping against his erection. If I have to suffer through this, then so will he.
His hand comes down on my cheek. “Stop fucking squirming, little one. I know what you’re doing.”
“Sorry, Sir.”
“You want my cock inside you, is that it? You want me to fuck that precious needy cunt until it squirts all over this bed and your new dress is sticky and covered in my cum?”
“Yes Sir.”
“You’re not getting my dick, Pet. That’s your punishment for giving my pussy to other men.”
“Sir?”
“I meant it when I said you were mine. I let you go, but that didn’t mean you could fuck other people.”
I scramble off his lap and turn to face him. “So, I was just supposed to wait forever for you?”
“Exactly,” he says through clenched teeth. “That’s the point of you being mine.”
“You threw me away!” Silence settles between us. Ares’ eyes are dark and livid. “I wasn’t yours anymore.”
“Don’t you ever fucking say that again.” He lunges for me and slides his hand into my hair, yanking me forward. My hands fly to his wrists. My nails dig into his flesh and he grunts, but his face is mere inches from mine. “You are mine. You will always be mine. Until your heart stops beating and even thereafter, you belong to me, Pet.”
Then he surprises me by kissing my lips. His tongue plunges deep into my mouth until I can’t get enough air, only Ares. He’s all I breathe. He has been since the day he took me. Since the first time he touched me.
He pulls away, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as my own. “I belong to you too, Pet.”
I search his gaze, those dark eyes so full of anger, fear, and yet so full of truth.
“I belong to you, and it scares the fucking shit out of me.” His hands tremble against my face. My tears swell and spill over his fingers, and he presses his lips to my forehead and draws me in against his chest.
I don’t know how long we stay like that, our bodies so close, without the live wire of sexuality, of Dom and submissive, connecting us. Right now, in this moment, we’re equals, and it frightens us both.
***
When we finally land, I’m emotionally spent, and I pray Ares will let me rest when we make it to our destination. I’d forgotten how tiring subbing on a permanent basis can be, how emotionally fraught it makes you. I’ve had playdates with Atticus and Violet, but afterward, I’ve returned home alone, where I was the one in charge of my life, my body, and my apartment. I’m out of practice, something I know my Sir won’t be happy with, but if he hadn’t let me go in the first place, I wouldn’t need conditioning again.
I begin to worry when the plane taxis toward a small hanger.
“You have a passport for me, right?” I assume he wasn’t fool enough to bring my own, because Agent Stahl will be all over us in seconds if what Ares said was true and they are still following me.
“It’s taken care of.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you need to learn to trust your Sir.”
“Yes, well, I’d like to trust him from the comfort of a house, not a jail cell.”
“Oh, Pet.” He laughs without humor. “You’ve been gone so long you’ve forgotten your manners. I’m going to have to beat that out of you, aren’t I?”
I wince and shut my mouth before I earn myself more punishment. Never mind that my insides are tightening, and my pussy aches for more of his touch.
An agent steps onto the plane and moves through the cabin toward us. I close my eyes, terrified that this is it. The last time I’ll see my captor, my lover, my tormentor, but the agent shakes hands with Ares, and sits in the seat opposite mine as the two carry on a conversation in Spanish of which I understand nothing.
The agent appraises me with interested eyes, and I school my features and lower my gaze to the floor the way Ares likes.
Ares’ tone is cutting as a stream of Spanish flies from his mouth. All of the previous joviality is gone, and when I glance up at his face, his expression is as livid as it was in the bedroom an hour ago.
“Lo siento, señor. I meant no disrespect.”
“Si, now, don’t you have some real criminals crossing your borders to catch?”
“Si, si.” The agent gets up. I follow his movements, still uncertain. “This one.” He points to Ares. “Always such a slave driver, huh?” He winks, and I’m so stunned I don’t know what to say in reply, so I say nothing at all.
After the agent leaves, the stewardess and captain both come to see us off the plane, and then we’re ushered into a black vehicle, and we drive away. No lines, no customs—as easy as that.
“What just happened back there? What did you say to him?”
“I said that he should keep his filthy fucking eyes off my Pet or his annual donation from us will cease to exist. I may have also mentioned that the Swedish might get a hot tip about his lovely illegal wife.”
“She’s an alien?”
“She’s a slave, Pet.”
> All the color drains from my face. A slave. Like me. Someone he stole.
“You kidnapped a woman and bartered her away as payment to help you smuggle sex slaves across the border?”
“Are you actually looking for an answer to that question?” He glares at me, and though I’ll likely pay for it later, I glare back. “Yes, I traded one life for the passage of many. Hedda is well taken care of. She’s not a prisoner in her home.”
“You can’t know that. You took her life from her.”
“What would you have me say, Pet?”
“That you’re sorry. That you feel one iota of remorse for all the lives you’ve destroyed.”
“You want me to feel remorse?” He wraps his hand around my throat and squeezes, not hard, but just enough to remind me who’s in charge. “I don’t regret a single one. How could I regret them when they led me to you?”
My breath saws in and out of my lungs. The rapid rise and fall of his shoulders tells me he’s breathing heavily too. His hand slides from my neck to cup my cheek, and I lean into the touch. He’s right. He’s never been more wrong. How can I say that all of those who’ve come before me don’t matter? I’ve been them—scared, tortured, terrified of what my Sir would do, and torn because I liked it. Even now, I’m complete, I’m fulfilled, but I’m still afraid that he’ll cast me out, afraid that he’ll send me away, and maybe even afraid he won’t.
“I hate that I love you so much,” I whisper to the darkened car.
“Lo sé, mi amor, lo sé.”
“I didn’t know you were Mexican.”
“My father is Mexican; my mother was Spanish. She grew up in America, but she was an history major, and utterly obsessed with the Pantheon. All she ever wanted was to see Greece and the Temple of Athena Nike.”
“And did she?”
“No. She met my father and saw the inside of a grave too soon.” He says all of this with his usual, cool detachment. As if nothing affects him. Once upon a time, I may have believed that his heart lay dormant, frozen with bitterness and rage. I’m no longer sure that’s the case.
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be done for it now, Pet.”
I press my cheek to Sir’s chest. I never thought I’d touch him again, feel his arms around me, or breathe in that sharp, spicy masculine scent. I love him. There’s no question about that. I can’t exist without him. But a part of me worries what my life will be now, knowing I can never go home. I can never see Dimitri or visit my favorite city. I can never set foot on US soil again without being tried as an accomplice for sex trafficking, and will Ares stop now? Or will I be forced to stand by and watch him take other girls, fuck other girls and men in front of me? I know I could never condone it, but will I stand by and allow it to happen, turn a blind eye because living without him means ripping my heart right out of my chest for a second time? Living without him is not an option.
“We’re here.”
I lift my head and peer out the window at the tall iron gates. “Here?”
“Home.”
“Home.” I roll the word over my tongue. Has anywhere ever felt like home before? I suppose at some point the house I grew up in was, and then my apartment with Parker. It’s strange that I remember so little of my life before, and when I attempt to forge the fragmented pieces into one, nothing fits right. Not like it does when I kneel at Ares’ feet. Not like it does when I submit to my Sir.
We drive onto the property. The house looms up in front, but it’s not a house, not by a long shot. It’s a palace, high on the hill above San Miguel de Allende with a rich terracotta façade, ornate fixtures, and more terraces and balconies than I can count at first glance. A chill breaks over my skin long before the driver opens the car door. I slide off Ares’ lap and exit the car, my legs protesting the long flight and drive.
A tiled mosaic over the front door depicts a woman against a night sky wearing a dress made of stars.
“Casa de La Estrella,” I read the script under her image.
“House of the Star,” Ares, whispers. “Estrella was my mother’s name.”
I inhale a deep breath, unprepared and totally taken aback by this new candid version of my Sir. “Is this where you grew up?”
“No.” He shakes his head and presses his hand to the small of my back to usher me forward. “My father’s estate is much, much larger than this.”
“And what does he do?”
I expect him to silence me the way he always does when I ask too many questions, but he just grins and whispers, “Nothing good.”
I swallow hard and step over the threshold.
Like father, like sons.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Pet
I wake to a loud smashing sound and startle upright. Ares is sound asleep. I shake him, but he doesn’t budge. I climb out of bed and head to the wardrobe. After wrapping myself in a silk robe, I pad softly downstairs.
No. Not him.
He stands in the kitchen, swaying, half-naked. His dark hair, normally so well presented, is a disheveled mess. Just as I pause there on the bottom stair, about to slink back into the shadows, he lifts his gaze to mine. A dark chuckle escapes him. Ice slides down my spine. The last time I saw him he was unconscious on the floor of the terrace they kept me in, blood pouring from the gash in his forehead. A gash I created when I slammed the vase over his head.
I want to run, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of showing him my fear. Instead, I swallow down the dread burning in my throat and stomach and step into the kitchen as if I’m going to get a glass of water.
“So Ares’ little Pet returns.” He finishes his liquor and slams the glass down on the counter beside the near-empty bottle. “I assume because you’re no longer cuffed and on a leash, it means you came of your own accord.”
“I did.”
“So fucking stupid. You think my brother falls in love? He doesn’t. He’s not capable of it.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Am I? You’ve known him . . . what? A few months? Most of those, you were his captive.” He unscrews the cap on the tequila. “Forgive me, but I don’t see this ending in a happily-ever-after.”
“Is it me specifically you have a problem with, or is it just the idea of him being happy with anyone other than you that makes you hate me so?”
“You were supposed to be sold.”
“And he set me free.”
His eyes widen from their narrow slits. The fury in them is terrifying. “What?”
Oh god. He didn’t know. Ares must have told him that I escaped on my own. Hermes picks up the bottle and smashes it against the sink. I take several steps back. I might be cornered by the rest of the kitchen and unable to make it to the stairs before he can, but there’s a butcher’s block of knives on the counter behind me, and I won’t let this asshole end my life by going down easy.
I slide one from the block. It’s not a knife at all, but a sharpening steel. I grip the handle in my sweaty palm as he edges toward me.
“You were to be sold. You were the last chance we had to bring down Vladik, and he set you free?” He bites out each word as if it was a curse. “I should kill you for that.”
“Why? Because your brother didn’t go along with your plans?”
“Because now we’ll never get her out!” He knocks the weapon from my hands. It clatters to the floor, and Hermes grabs my throat and shoves me up against the wall. The broken bottle digs into my neck. My breath saws in and out of my lungs, as his gaze razes me.
“Who?” I pant, sucking in what little breath his tight grip affords me. “Get who out?”
“Let her go.” Ares’ cool tone comes from the stairs. He’s naked as he walks to stand near his brother, seemingly unfazed by his nudity.
“Like you let her go? Secrets out, Brother,” he spits the last word as if it were venom. “Your little Pet here didn’t break out; you let her out.”
“I did. I set her free because I couldn’t stand the th
ought of Vladik ruining her, breaking her.” The moonlight eking in through the large windows glints off the gun in Ares’ hand. A gun that’s pointed right at his brother, and incidentally, also at me.
I gasp, and Hermes turns his head to stare at Ares. “You’re going to shoot me, Brother? Over a fucking slave?”
“Drop the glass and get the fuck away from her. Brother or not, you harm a fucking hair on her head and it will be the last thing you ever do.”
My eyes widen and I stare slack-jawed at my Sir.
He grins. “Don’t look so surprised, Pet. It makes me think you doubt my fondness for you.”
“You let her go, and now any chance we had of getting Athena back is gone.”
“Athena?” I glance between them, wondering who she is, but my thoughts are cut short by the glass digging harder into my flesh. Blood, hot and thick, trickles down my neck. I stop breathing.
“You don’t get to speak her name, whore.” Hermes’ breath on my face is hot and rancid, reeking of alcohol. The glass cuts deeper. I cry out.
A shot rings out, and I squeeze my eyes tightly closed. The noise is too much, too terrifying in the small space. When I open them, Hermes is lying on the floor groaning as he clutches his arm. Blood pours from the wound, running down his forearm and hands, dripping off his fingers and onto the tiles.
“You fucking shot me!”
“I fucking warned you. You made my Pet bleed; it’s only fair I return the favor.” Ares steps over his brother’s writhing body and stands in front of me. He cups my cheek with one hand and inspects the cut, pressing his fingertips to the wound to stem the blood. It isn’t flowing fast, and though it stings like a bitch, I doubt it’s deep enough to scar.
He exhales and lowers his head, his tongue darting out to taste my blood. It’s fucked up, and strangely erotic that he wants to consume every part of me. My blood, sweat, and tears. They all belong to him, and he revels in it.
“You son of a bitch, you shot me,” Hermes murmurs again, and Ares glances at his brother.
In the Land of Gods and Monsters, Part II (Gods & Monsters, #2) Page 10