by Nora Flite
I'd refilled their glasses twice, never once for myself.
The more loud they got, the less I wanted to lose any of my wits.
I'm already struggling to pay attention with HIM fucking with me. Narrowing my eyes, I dug nails into my knees under the table as another teasing wave ran through my pussy.
“So, Leonide.” Feliks emptied his glass, cheeks ruddy from alcohol. “We know who the bride is, but what lucky man are you marrying her off to?”
I breathed in sharply; sat up tall.
Leonide was looking everywhere but at me. He'd never said the name of the man I was going to be sent off with. “Vitaly Holender.”
The name meant nothing to me. Marat, who had been morose since the earlier confrontation, chuckled with grit. “Vitaly? So the man of many tastes has finally chosen to take a wife.” Those sinister eyes fell on me curiously. “He chose this one? How has the work been, Leonide?”
Under that stare, I might as well have been wearing nothing. Marat was cutting through to my marrow, my heart going erratic. He knows the man I'm marrying. What the hell does that look mean?
Leonide finished his drink in one gulp. “I get the impression you know something about his hobbies.”
“He's not been subtle about what he likes, not even for someone of his stature.” Marat wouldn't stop scrutinizing me. Turning carefully, I fixed my attention on my empty plate. The vibrations were ever present, but my stomach was knotting from fear and overwhelming them. “It's widely known that he likes his women wild. Is she, then?”
I looked up just enough to see Leonide's hands on the table. They were half-bent, relaxed. “Is she wild? What do you think, Marat? That after all these years, I'd match someone with a bride who could not satisfy them?”
“I think you invited us over to show her off. Are you trying to coerce me into paying for your matchmaking services later?”
Leonide waved his palms in mock helplessness. “You're the only one here who hasn't.”
Opening my fists, I saw I'd cut half-moons into my skin with my nails. All of them have bought women from him. Peeking up through my lashes, I glanced at each of them, burned their wolfish mugs into my brain. All of them are part of this. Happy fucking clients.
Next to me, Marat's chair scraped an inch backwards. “Convince me it's worth it.” The air filled with the tang of danger. It made my mouth taste funny, copper mixed with static. “If you know Vitaly, if you're training her for him... then you know he won't mind.”
“Fine,” Leonide said. I shot my chin up, gaped at him in horror. He offered me no protection in his blank stare. He would not be my savior. He was going to throw me to the dogs.
Oh god, oh god oh god oh god!
“Stand, Celeste.”
Tremors lived in my veins. Everyone watched me, made me conscious of my breathing and how the gossamer dress clung to my curves. Leonide was in reach, not moving while he looked on.
“Face them,” he commanded. Lord help me, I did as he said. I imagined they were a firing squad, preparing to judge me and rip me to bits. “Lift your dress, sweet girl.”
Crushing the material at my waist, I willed it to stay glued to me. I can't, I can't do this! Turning my head, I pleaded at Leonide with my eyes.
Flat, onyx irises narrowed. He turned up the strength on the vibrator, but in my heart, it was his casual disinterest that made me fall. Shouting, covering my mouth, I tumbled to my knees and shook. I couldn't look up, didn't dare see the way I knew the men were hovering over me.
Let me vanish. Just let me melt into this rug and disappear.
Panting, I was halted on the edge of orgasm. Leonide switched the toy off abruptly, phantom ripples still invading my skin. “She doesn't listen so well yet,” he sighed. “It's the first time she's been in front of other people like this.”
“I'm not complaining,” Feliks chuckled. The others made soft, agreeable sounds.
The hand that touched my head was not one I knew. “How long until he expects her?” Marat asked. His fingers pet me lightly, stroked my ear. I didn't hear Leonide answer. Marat breathed out in sympathy. “Your silence hints you're on a short rope.”
I willed myself to be calm, fighting to keep my food down. Is that right? Is there not much time left? Nausea yearned to overtake me.
Marat cupped my chin, tilted my eyes up. “If you stay down there, I'll want to use that pretty American mouth of yours.” Stumbling, I climbed to my feet. Marat beamed, scooping up my fingers in his. “You are gorgeous, though. Maybe the sexiest woman Leonide has shown us.”
“My wife is very pretty!” Feliks huffed.
“Pretty,” Marat agreed. He swept his pale brown eyes from my hips to my chest. “But not sexy. I can feel the waves of heat coming off. Leonide, what do you have on her?”
I moved to step back; the strange man trapped my hands tighter. Unable to see Leonide's face, I worked to understand the mildness of his voice. “Lift up her dress and see for yourself.”
For a moment, I debated running. On the table beside me, a dinner knife glinted. I could stab him. Marat tilted his head like a hawk. I could cut his smirk out and run. They'd catch me. But I could stop him.
The man dug his claws into my wrists, crossed them together. “Give me that cloth napkin.” Feliks tossed it over, and Marat stared me down while he bound my hands into uselessness. He didn't mention if he suspected I had wished him harm, yet the malicious burn in his stare spoke volumes.
Unable to protect myself, I tightened my mouth and shut my eyes. Fine. Let them all see. Let them look at the sick things they're responsible for. What they allow to happen in this house.
All of these men... married to women Leonide had found?
All of them except Marat...
And Leonide himself.
“Oh my,” Marat laughed, pulling my hem to my waist. I fought the urge to look, welcomed the darkness behind my lids. “You are preparing her for Vitaly.” He nudged the front of my panties, felt the solid shape of the device hidden there. “I heard he had a number of wicked toys made just for him—ah, she's soaked.” Probing fingers explored the wetness coating down the insides of my legs.
“She's blushing,” Feliks observed.
The men spoke, murmurs or admiring comments. Only one person remained silent other than me. What is Leonide thinking? I feared he'd let this stranger do whatever he wanted.
Marat pushed his chair back. His shadow made my vision blacker, hands pulling my arms over my head. “I don't care if you don't watch, just keep these in the air.”
My failure was instant; he touched my breasts, my elbows came down to hide them. “Stop!” I shouted, eyes flying wide; I didn't muddle my rage.
“Too much fire in her still, Leonide.” Violently he spun me, yanked my spine to his chest. Marat bent my elbows to my ears, my bound fists pressed to the nape of my neck. I dreamed of kicking him with my heel. Marat yanked me into his lap, dropped into his chair. His ankles crossed over mine, spreading my knees wide and trapping them like that.
It left my head reeling.
But now, I was facing Leonide.
The man was leaning forward in his seat with a casual calmness. Fingers were linked over his mouth, eyes brooding where they rested on me. Marat slid his free hand around, cupped my left breast.
Leonide's knuckles went bloodless.
“I love how responsive she is.” Rolling my nipple, Marat smelled my hair. “Nice fat tits. Vitaly always had a weakness for blondes.”
Hatred wormed its way into my breathing. I sucked it in, let it crawl into my body so it could remind me what it felt like to want to kill someone. With all he had done to me, I'd been sure Leonide was the epitome of evil. It was an odd thing, finding someone I was capable of hating even more.
Across from me, Leonide's face rang with a similar tune. Unless I was crazy, that was outrage in his fiendish black eyes. There was more to it than that; something I couldn't name because I had never been on the receiving end of it before.
<
br /> But, I'd watched enough Wildlife shows to recognize the murder-gaze of a predator.
Except, why is HE so angry? He was the one who put me on display for them.
Marat's tongue touched me. I whined pathetically.
“Stop.” A gun shot of a voice. All attention turned to our host, my well-dressed matchmaker and his wretched scowl. He looked at me, at me. Clarity filled Leonide's features; blinking, he dropped his hands and cleared his throat. “Let's stop for now. It's getting late, I know you have to be up early tomorrow to catch your train, Marat.”
Unable to see his face, I heard the low rumble of Marat's sarcasm. “Of course. I wouldn't want to ruin anyone's schedule.” Languidly he removed my binds. His hands dragged down my breasts, my waist, until he slapped my ass when I jumped off of him.
Covering myself with my arms, I retreated, standing near Leonide. For once, he felt like the only person who would keep me safe.
Pushing back his seat, he stood, adjusted his tie. “Nothing is ruined. I'm glad you came to dinner. It's a shame your stay is so short, I'd offer you another chance to spend time with Celeste when she's more... ready.”
In disbelief, I gave Leonide a sideways look.
Bowing his head, Marat slid on his corpse-grey jacket. “Chances are funny. Who knows, maybe I'll have a moment with her in the future when I visit Vitaly again.” In the light, Marat's teeth gleamed.
Leonide offered a tight smile.
They left with soft farewells, though I didn't bid them a thing. Beneath the politeness, all of them were retched creatures. Men who bought their wives, men who thought they ruled the fucking world.
I kept quiet long after Leonide shut the doors on them. He stood by the window, back to me while headlights faded down the road. At the last crunch of gravel, he showed me his profile. “Celeste.”
Regret is a powerful toxin. “I'm so sorry, I tried to listen! I just—that man, he was terrible.”
“I know.” His lips parted; shut again. I was familiar with struggling, but to see him working through something, fighting to decide what to say, it didn't sit well with me. Leonide twisted back to the window. “We're all terrible. Go to bed, Celeste.”
It was a near tangible melancholy. Nothing about it was logical. I was the one who had suffered. If anyone should be moping or brooding, it was me.
Unable to muster up a word of comfort, not grasping why I even cared, I lifted my hem and vanished up the stairs. Once, I looked back down. Leonide hadn't moved. Behind him stretched opaque gloom. Through the window, pale stars glowed and embossed his outline.
A sentinel in gold and silver.
Colors no demon should ever be allowed to wear.
I'd thought, when I'd seen him at the start of the evening, that he had been a beautiful vision. A man to play my pretend prince, if just for a little while.
Leonide was no prince.
Certainly no savior of women.
But tonight, he stepped in and saved ME.
What did you call a monster who rescued you from the rest?
- Chapter Eight -
Celeste
He came for me in the middle of the night.
It was his palm over my mouth that yanked me awake. With no light, lost in the pitch of night, I screamed.
“Shit!” Leonide pulled away; I couldn't see him at all. “Calm down, it's me.”
“Leonide?” Already, his familiar scent was calming me. “What's wrong?”
The bed shifted under his weight. “Nothing.” He bit the word off, spit it aside. There was a strain to his voice. I wished I could see his face; his eyes could tell me to be afraid or not. This blindness, this strange midnight visit¸ was fraying my nerves.
“I'm going to put the light on,” I said.
“Don't.” He didn't move, he didn't need to. His threats were easy to grasp by now.
I choked my blanket. “Why are you here, sir?”
“Who knows.” Springs rustled, his body turning my way. “Because I can come in when I feel like it? Because I can do whatever the fuck I want, Celeste?”
Sourness filled my nostrils. “You're drunk.” Why is he drunk?
Even in the dark with nothing to see but the strip of light under my door, I could sense him leaning closer. My eyes were adjusting; I didn't know if that was better. “How observant, such a smart girl.” His breath tickled my cheek. “Do you think all the other girls were as smart as you? As fucking clever when they talked back, when they dared to rise up to me?”
Something is wrong. My shoulder blades touched the headboard. He's gotten himself wasted. What the hell happened, what did I miss?
“You act like you're special.” I jumped at the thunk of his hand landing on the wall by my temple. “Like you're different than all of them. Are you different, Celeste?”
“I—”
“Are you fucking different!?”
Curling into a ball, I pulled my knees to my chest. “No! No, I'm not—I never was!” I was never special.
I was always boring.
Air puffed through his nose. “That's right. You're not. Nothing about you makes you different than the others.” He coiled fingers on my arm, found my wrist and pulled it aside. I didn't struggle, I was frozen in fear. “Just another suffering girl.” My ears perked. “Another stupid, stupid girl for me to fix for her groom. To make perfect.” Leonide hovered over me, pressing me down without lifting a finger to do it. “Not different... not—you're nothing.”
Feeling my blood throb where he held me, I let his words sink deep into my brain. He sounded furious, almost desperate. A man that had a composure made from diamond...
What had made it crack?
Trembling on the bed, I processed my dread. He eased up his grip, slid his palm down to my shoulder. When he did nothing else, I grew too anxious to stay quiet. “Did I... make you angry, somehow?”
The sound of his heaving was cut short. “What?”
“Are you doing this because of me? I didn't mean to mess up at dinner, I swear!” It was Marat. Maybe, if he hadn't been there...
Leonide's grip fell away. With shadows between us, I felt his presence just the same. “Yes. This is because of what happened at dinner.”
Knowing the reason was a sick sort of relief. “I—next time. I promise, next time—” My sentence vanished into the ether. Bitter wine filled my mouth; Leonide's tongue, a curling wave of addiction and sin. He'd never been gentle, but now, he was kissing me so hard there would be bruises to tell the story.
The headboard kept me in place for him. My hands, limp at my sides in shock, wouldn't answer my call. I should have kicked him, jabbed him, done anything but dove into that fucking kiss like a woman keen for suicide.
I plummeted to my doom without looking back.
There was no sense to it. This kiss was mystifying, he had no reason to seek me out. Wasn't I just some stupid girl, as he said? No different, just clay to mold for the men who paid him.
If I was so boring... why were his kisses so frantic?
Whatever spell he was under broke. Grunting, he shoved me into the wood and took in a lungful of air. “Fuck! What the fuck.” Not a question, a statement. The mattress shifted, his soles clicking on the floor.
“Wait!” Lost by his abandonment, I slid to the edge. “What is it, where are you going?” I wanted to see his face so badly. In the frail crack of the light, I could only spot his polished shoes. The knob creaked when he turned it. “Please don't go, sir.” Don't go, don't mess with my head, don't make me wonder what the hell I want from you! “I—what am I doing wrong?”
Leonide cracked the door, casting ghostly light on his jaw until only one eye was left in the dark. He was cut in two; my wandering sentinel and my brooding demon. “Nothing,” he said, stepping into the hall. “Nothing and fucking everything.”
Metal grated on metal. In disbelief, I stumbled forward. It took one tiny jiggle of the bronze handle to prove what my gut was screaming.
It was the first time
Leonide had locked my door in weeks.
****
I didn't sleep a wink.
Pacing my room, lying in bed, I occasional tested the door as if I needed a reminder of my situation. Whatever was wrong—and new wrong, of old wrong there was plenty—Leonide, didn't want me leaving.
No windows to tell if the sun was up or not, I felt each minute drag on. It gave me time to think.
Too much time.
Something set him off. I scoured my memory for every detail. It must have happened during dinner. It was the only thing between when he met me, smiling at the bottom of the stairs... and when he crept up on me in the night. I shivered.
Brushing fingers over my lips, I could still taste the wine. He drank too much. Not even with the meal. It happened after everyone left. Slamming a pillow over my face, I groaned. God. All those men, watching me and seeing me lose control.
Seeing me manipulated.
During it all, while Marat molested me, not one of them stepped in. Fuck, they all seemed to enjoy the show. Just thinking of how Marat had felt up my chest made my cheeks burn. All of them, looking on in glee—no. I threw the pillow, gaped at the ceiling. Not all of them.
Onyx eyes, straining with their out of place brand of disgust.
No.
Leonide had been disgusted, but there was something else in his face that I couldn't grasp under my duress. Now, working through the images in my brain, I felt my chest tighten. Yes, I knew that look. Tense lips, narrowed eyes, fingers bloodless with his growing anger.
Leonide had been jealous.
I wanted to laugh; covered my mouth in case it came up. Holy shit. What does that even mean? How could a man who bragged about selling women—matching them off to unknown men—feel even a wisp of jealousy at seeing me handled by someone else?
My skull overflowed with disbelief. So he got a little selfish. Fine. Shit, my heart was dancing in a way that worried me. Stop getting excited. This is the guy who drugged you, kidnapped you! He plans to sell you, Celeste! Pushing my hair back, I breathed low in my belly. There you go. Remember that part. That'll sober you up good.