by May Sage
Chapter One
the Thief
She raised her ass in the air and attempted to release a scream. Fruitless endeavor: her mouth, wrapped around one of his guest’s shaft, was otherwise engaged.
Aiden didn’t take his time – he relentlessly pounded inside her until he came in his condom. There were other matters to take care of tonight.
Slapping her ass, he withdrew from her warmth before walking away, leaving her wet sheath free for the use of the next guy in the line.
Aiden had been the first – there wouldn’t be much point in owning a select club without perks such as having dibs – but Tania would be busy tonight: twenty eight VIP customers had signed in so far, and it was only ten.
Each of them was entitled a free round with the girl of the day in between their games and they usually cashed in. In addition, standard customers were welcome to pay for the privilege; most generally chose to do so.
It was good for the workers: they earned every single penny of these requests, as well as a generous cut of the membership fees. Aiden wasn’t a pimp; sure, he benefited from their trade, because his casino wouldn’t be nearly as popular without them, but on nights when they weren’t carrying trays of champagne or wiping tables, they were freelancers.
His club, built inside one of the most majestic townhouses in the capital, was the epitome of elegance. The principal rooms were vast, with high ceilings and long velvet curtains, and the large tables around which the patrons converged were carved and sculpted in polished mahogany. A choice of classical music or blues played in the background and his staff was wearing quality clothing – labeled dresses, designer suits.
Even the sex was classy. Tania was elevated on a circular platform in the middle of the floor and completely surrounded by soundproof, semitransparent glass. The fact that over twenty guys were waiting in line around her also obstructed the view from anyone outside their little bubble of sin. Mostly.
In any other country, the authorities might have had a few things to say about it regardless, however they were citizens of Jereena, the one anarchy in Europa.
Their pathetic excuse for a government did manage to handle things such as alliance, threats, external liaisons, but the running of the state had gone to hell since the disappearance of the heir to the throne; the King was useless – or "depressed," as the media liked to call it – and the subjects were left to live their lives as they saw fit.
Aiden liked it that way. You have a problem with your neighbor? Sort it out. You desire something? Earn it. You’ve been wronged? Get revenge.
Their system meant that women and men were free to bend over and get screwed by a hundred strangers once a week for a seven figure annual income if they damn well felt like it.
He employed Tania, Grace, Suzie, Julia, Marie and his favorite, Stella, Tuesday to Sunday; Monday was Christian, Greg and Julian’s turn. From time to time, Julia and Julian gave the ultimate twin combo.
If there was an old law against it, no one cared; the presence of three government officials holding their cocks inside proved as much.
Aiden’s presence was as necessary to the functioning of the club as Tania’s and her peers. There was an awful lot of cash walking through those doors and thugs might have been tempted to try their luck with it, if it hadn’t been for him.
He wasn’t exactly what one would call a pretty boy. Not anymore.
“Boss? We’ve found him.”
He lifted an eyebrow, relatively surprised. He had expected that the man would have left the country by now.
There weren’t many options as to whom Lightwoods could have referred to. Aiden wasn’t looking for anyone, save for him.
The one person who’d been bold enough to take something from him in ten years.
To an extent, he admired him.
Aiden was seven feet tall. His skin was eerie – so white it often seemed somewhere between blue and silver – and his eyes were completely empty, a crystal cerulean cold as stone. There wasn’t one hair on him, not even on his eyelids, and he was smooth, luminous. Clearly not human.
The rumors said he fed on blood, skin, virgins and one look at him was enough to decide that they were correct. Those who met his gaze without shaking were suicidal, insane or very, very powerful themselves.
Yet the geek had gone and actually stolen from him.
Aiden hadn’t looked for him because of the cash – he made several million on a good night; the hundred grand had been nothing – but because he couldn’t afford to be seen as weak.
Some had heard about the hack in the underground; how long would it be until someone else tried?
He needed to send a resounding message to all of those who would ever contemplate messing with him.
The room was one of the dungeons where the girls held their occasional theme parties; there were chains, crosses, spreading bars, dildos and other tools. Clocks had made good use of the large cross, locking their prisoner’s wrists and ankles; he was gagged and wore nothing but his boxers.
While Aiden’s frequent participations to the girl’s line ups – and his conspicuous absence when it was the guys’ turn – might have made his sexual orientation clear, the thief seemed rather anxious at the sight of the toys. Ah.
It had taken a while to get used to his enhanced sense of smell; after a decade in this form, he was an expert in detecting various nuances through an individual’s scent: Benjamin reeked of fear.
So sexual abuse was one of his triggers, then.
“I’m not going to use this on you,” he reassured him, picking up a thin, red cane. “That wouldn’t satisfy me in the slightest. Now, if we’re talking about one of your sisters...”
Aiden had learnt from his mistakes: he researched his foes – and friends – thoroughly, now. The thief’s parents were gone, but there were sisters, both of age, single and alone in the city.
Easy prey.
“Little Lucia would look good on here,” he said, caressing the polish wood of a long, hard spanking horse. “I’ll personally take care of her: I’ve always preferred blondes. My cock is larger than what she’s used to, I’d wager, but I’m sure it will fit in her ass, one way or another. Sibelle will be there.”
He was pointing towards the sling on his left.
“These are great for upright double penetration. We’ll have an awful lot of fun, don’t you think?”
There was so much rage in those eyes. Benjamin Thornton pulled, kicked and screamed while Aiden just laughed.
He had no intention of involving the girls, but the fact that he had taken the time to learn about them should be enough of a motivation.
“Here’s what’s going to happen, dipshit. You’ll bring me seven times what you’ve taken by the end of the month. That’s three weeks: I’m being generous here. Or, if you can’t, you will bring me one of your sisters. Fail to do so and I’ll take both.”
Aiden pulled the contract he’d prepared from the inner pocket of his jacket and made a show of uncuffing one of the thief’s wrists, before handing him his best pen.
He didn’t even have to reiterate his threat: Ben just signed.
“You’re a monster,” the guy dared utter – or at least, that’s what Aiden made of it. The ball gag made him rather unintelligible.
Now, that was funny. As if anyone needed to actually be told; one look at him was enough to realize that.
♦
There were simpletons, idiots, stupid little shits, and then, there was their fucking brother.
“You’ve stolen from the Beast.”
There was exactly one person whom was referred to as The Beast in the whole of Jereena and
everyone knew better than to cross him.
Everyone knew better than to fucking walk on the same side of the road!
Belle didn’t attempt to tell him off about the stealing side of things; it would have been a pointless endeavor.
Thievery had been part of the three remaining Thorntons – a part Lucia and Belle had outgrown.
They’d been raised in a home where they had had exactly two choices: steal or die. Food wasn’t given; it was earned, by bringing back enough full wallets.
They’d been orphaned young, but one look at their minders and they’d resolved to keep quiet about the house they owned, so the day Ben had turned eighteen, he’d walked in the first lawyer’s office with a lump of cash he’d taken from the orphanage’s coffers and sorted it all out.
He’d retrieved his right to the house, cashing in on eight years worth of rent in the process.
The “house” was a full-on working agricultural farm, with a fair bit of land, currently rented by a decent guy who paid his bills on time. The income it generated wasn’t very much, divided by three, but with careful planning, it had been enough to cover their expenses; until now.
Fuck.
Lucia was in her first year at university. Unlike Sibelle, she’d been smart and had chosen to study something useful: medicine. She had a bright future ahead of her, dammit.
As the concept of grants or scholarships had practically disappeared, the cost of Lucia’s education amounted to a hefty ten thousand a year – money that directly came from their rental. The rest, they’d shared equally between them.
Since she’d finished college and taken on a job at the public library, Sibelle had saved her share; Ben squandered his on stupid ventures and Lucia paid for her room and board with the last third.
Belle had close to twenty thousand stashed away – a fortune, as far as she was concerned – but that wasn’t even a drop in the bucket.
There was one way to bail Ben out.
“We have to sell the farm,” Lucia concluded, voicing Sibelle’s thought.
A long silence ensued. There was no point elaborating on the consequences: if they sold, they couldn’t afford to pay for Lucia’s tuition. Belle’s savings might keep her there for a couple of years, but then, what? She’d still have to drop out before getting her degree.
“Dammit, dipshit; why the Beast!”
“I didn’t know whose account it was, alright! I just went in when I was connected to their server, and I saw all of that cash stacked up in one fucking instant access account, ready for the taking. The name on there was… Well, I just thought it must have been abandoned. There were billions in there, Sib. Billions.”
“Tell me you’ve still got the hundred, at least.”
Of course he didn’t. He’d invested it.
Sibelle only sighed.
Ben, admittedly, was a brilliant hacker, a decent poker player, but that didn’t make him the sharpest tool in the box. There was a good chance that he may have been dropped on the head a few times too many.
That being said, he was still the best brother in the entire world.
Sibelle recalled the way he’d stayed with them every night in the orphanage, adopting a "punch first, ask questions later" policy on every single male who’d approached their room. She also knew he could very well have left them to rot where they had been, rather than paying for her freedom and becoming Lucia’s legal guardian when he had still been a kid himself.
Then, there were the strange days in her teenage years. Those when Belle had inadvertently hurt herself, or had tried to have a haircut, only to see her flesh return to its original form in a matter of minutes. The days when her reflection in the mirror told her that she wasn’t supposed to exist.
She didn’t know how, but whenever any such thing had occurred, Ben ended up turning up, bullying his way into her space and getting her out of the funk.
What am I, Ben?
You’re my sister, he’d lied, and for a while, she’d believe it.
No amount of reckless stupidity would change that. Whatever the problem, they supported each other. Hell, if it came down to it, she’d go to the Beast herself for him.
It happened very suddenly after that idea was formulated in her mind. Her breathing quieted down, she stopped frowning and her entire body relaxed. Glancing at the contract signed by the unfittingly elegant hand of the Beast, she bit her lip, knowing what it all meant.
The only thing now was to ensure that Lucia and Ben didn’t realize what she’d decided.
Sibelle Thornton was in no way the self-sacrificing kind of woman, but that rhetorical pledge had instantly morphed into a firm resolution.
I am going to the Beast.
Lucia was nice and smart, Ben was crafty and charming – but Belle was a little bit of both, in between, lost in the middle, not entirely sure where she belonged. If the value of lives could be weighed or measured, she was certain hers would be lighter than her siblings’.
Unlike Ben, she had an education, but all she had to show for four years of studying literature and languages was a low income and an incomparable ability to sass in an educated verbiage when she got pissed off about it.
She didn’t get along with – or relate to – most adults she encountered; kids were easier, more straightforward. In her free time, she hung out with teenagers; how pathetic was that for a girl of twenty-three?
So yeah, in short, she wasn’t exactly accomplished.
Lucia was so much more: she deserved the chance to become whatever she wanted to be.
Furthermore, the Beast would call Ben, begging to send Sibelle back within a week.
There was zero chance of anyone managing to tie her up to a wooden post. Ben could be considered a badass, compared to some, but please. He was an amuse-bouche.
Belle had signed up for self-defense classes as soon as she’d been at leisure to do so, and she’d never stopped. Hell, in the recent months, she practically lived and breathed martial art; she taught it, practiced it, and then, used it. She could kick major ass.
It hadn’t been a hobby, but a necessity. She was pretty. Some called her beautiful. In Jereena, that meant that someone tried to rape her about once a week, minimum.
They rarely came out of the experience physically able to use their dicks on anyone else.
After scheduling an appointment with an estate agent first thing the next morning, they finished their drinks and parted ways, heading in different directions.
Belle embraced them both and while it was perhaps out of character, they weren’t complaining. Nor were they aware of her hand as it skillfully withdrew from Ben’s pocket.
His contract clasped in her fist, she took the time to look at both of their figures while they retreated, and smiled.
There was nothing she wouldn’t do for them. Nothing.
Chapter Two
the Agreement
There was something incredibly wrong with the smell of the building. Or rather, incredibly right.
Regardless of how much scrubbing the night janitors did, Aiden could always detect that distinct sex, alcohol and sweat blend underneath it all. Today, he failed to notice it. All he smelt was honey and cinnamon.
“Shh,” he murmured, soothing the hound barking at his feet.
Aiden knew the feeling, though: this scent was alluring, enticing. He generally didn’t emerge out of his room until ten or so, given his work schedule, but he had to get up and investigate.
Adler on his heels, he pulled some PJ pants on and made his way downstairs, eager.
Had Cook randomly decided to bake some sort of cake? Aiden didn’t officially have a sweet tooth, which meant that he couldn’t request treats, but if cookies, pies or muffins were on the menu, he was not missing out.
He met Clocks in the corridors and the man seemed shaken. Whatever the issue was, it wasn’t good: Jerome Clocks hadn’t even blinked when Aiden had woken up looking like that one morning.
“The sister is here,” he told him in on
e labored breath.
Ah.
The thief had surprised him again. He hadn’t expected that.
In one hand, Aiden was glad for it: getting someone’s sister, rather than a mere pile of cash, was going to say a lot about his character.
On the other hand, she would be a pain in the backside. What the hell was he going to do with a girl here?
The obvious wasn’t an option. Aiden didn’t take women without their consent. He wouldn’t allow anyone else to do so either. Making her work for him as some sort of underling was an option, but he was already overstaffed.
He sighed and turned towards their waiting room, but Jerome Clocks unexpectedly caught his arm.
Another strange thing. No one voluntarily touched him, these days.
“Be careful,” his oldest servant warned him gravely. “Something isn’t right. She...”
While his face remained hard to read, his scent was clear: there was a healthy dose of fear there.
“What?”
“There must be fay in her. Or something. At least, some sort of Gift.”
Aiden’s entire body became absolutely rigid.
There had been a time when he might not have taken that particular advice seriously, but he knew better now.
He’d pissed off a fay descendent once, and he had the face to prove it.
“Why would you think that?”
Those with fay blood generally belonged to prestigious lines and what he’d recalled of his research had indicated that the Thorntons had been farmers and merchants for generations.
“Because she’s… pretty.”
He said the word tentatively, as though he was trying it for size. Then, satisfied with it, Clocks nodded, adding: “Very much so.”
Aiden was lost for words. He distinctly recalled the solemn guard shrugging and admitting that Silvia Undine was “nice,” when they’d met the Alenian bombshell; the Eastlean beauties were deemed “alright.” But the farmer girl was very pretty?