In the Land of Gods and Monsters, Part Two (Gods & Monsters Book 2)

by Carmen Jenner

  A sob escapes me. I knew. Of course, I knew. I knew the second their cage was overturned on the ground, the door wide open. I guess I hadn’t asked all this time because I didn’t want to hear the answer, though I already knew all along.

  I sink to my knees, clutching the towel to my chest as my body racks with sobs. I hate him. I love him. I’ll never be free of him. “How did you do it?”

  He laughs without humor. “I reached in, and I wrung their little necks.”

  “At once? Tell me you did it together?”

  “No, Pet.” Ares shakes his head. His eyes are still churning with anger, but there is something else in them too. Something more. Torment. “I broke the girl first, then I killed the male while he was still singing.”

  “Why? You could have set them free, like me.”

  “Because that worked out so well for you. Look at where you are,” he snaps.

  I reel back as if he dealt a physical blow, and say through my teeth, “I hate you!”

  “Yes, but you also love me, and that is your downfall.”

  “I don’t know why I ever agreed to come back with you.”

  “You never had a choice, little one.” His hand wraps around my throat, but he doesn’t squeeze, and I hate that I close my eyes and wish that he would. “I will go to the ends of the Earth to find you, Pet. You’ll never be free of me, and if I die, this”—he cups my pussy with his free hand and brutally shoves two fingers inside me—“this will still belong to me.”

  He fucks me hard, cruelly, and my orgasm slams into me so hard I can no longer stay upright. It doesn’t matter though, because Ares has me. He’ll always have me. He’s right. I will never be free of him.

  “Who owns you, Pet?”

  “You . . . you, Sir.”

  “That’s right. Me. Now, kneel, and show your Sir how much you love him.”

  I go down on my knees, my limbs still shaking from the bone-melting orgasm he just pulled from me.

  I sit back and wait for my next instructions. He opens his fly, and pulls his cock free. He’s hard, and the tip is glistening with pre-cum.

  “Suck it, Pet.”

  I just came not thirty seconds ago, and already, I need to come again. I squirm on my heels and take him in my hands. I press a soft kiss to the tip, and he thrusts his hips forward. He’s not here to play games. I open my mouth, wet my lips, and take him inside. He fists his hand in my hair, but he doesn’t drive his cock to the back of my throat with bruising force the way he usually would. No. That would be too easy. Ares wants me to work for it. To show him my love.

  With one hand, I cup his balls and squeeze. The other hand wraps around the base of his proud cock. I slide it back and forth in a gentle twisting motion in time with my sucking.

  Sir inhales, slow and deep and husky. He closes his eyes and tilts his head up toward the ceiling. I slide my finger along his perineum, seeking out the puckered flesh. I’m curious to see his reaction. I push against it, and he groans, so I add a little more force. My finger slips inside, and Ares’ hand tightens in my hair. “A little deeper, Pet. Farther in, you’ll find the prostate.”

  I push in farther, to my second knuckle. There’s no lubrication on my fingers, and the drag and slide of my skin against his sensitive flesh has to be causing him pain. I study his face and find the same emotions I’ve felt when he plays with me—lust, need, and the desire for more hurt.

  My Sir likes pain.

  Not just extracting it, but he enjoys this. Was he a sub at some point? Is that what he did with Israel? Was he the bottom?

  No. That’s not right. Ares could never relinquish control like that, and I highly doubt Israel would kneel at his feet and show him the respect he’s due if Ares had let him dominate. So when? Who? Was it Athena?

  He winces, and I think I’ve hurt him, but then I realize that’s what he wants. Me to hurt him. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this new development.

  “Push your finger against the front wall.”

  I do as he says, feeling the ridge that’s sticking out just a little farther than the rest of his body. I push against it and he jerks. His cock bobs. I sweep my finger back and forth over the spot. Ares’ entire body shudders. I may not know this side of him, but I like it. I’m so used to him being in control. He comes, he fucks like the devil, and it’s obvious he enjoys it, but he never seems to give himself over completely to the pursuit of pleasure. He never gives all of himself to me. Up until now, I thought it was impossible.

  I grip his cock and stroke, but his free hand tilts my face up to him. When I meet his gaze, usually so dark, so full of rage and power, it’s soft. “Not yet, Pet. Keep massaging. I’ll tell you when to stroke.”

  “Yes, Sir.” My voice is thick with wonder, with yearning. I squirm, but this isn’t about me. I want to make my Sir proud. I want to make him happy and give him pleasure like he’s never known. I want to lead him through the darkness, that pure blackness in his heart and into the light, because to submit doesn’t only mean to follow.

  I stroke him, each sweep of my finger pushing deeper, pressing harder.

  “Oh, fuck.” He hisses through clenched teeth. “Now, little one, take me in your mouth and swallow all your Sir’s cum.”

  Fueled by his passion, I open and suck hard. Thick jets of semen fill my mouth. He pushes forward, thrusts right to the back of my throat. It’s too rough, too much. I choke on it, remember my breathing too late, but it doesn’t matter. His orgasm draws to an end, and as he pulls out of my mouth, he rubs his free hand over his eyes, tilts his head back, and laughs. It’s the kind of laugh that escapes you when your body has no idea how to deal with euphoria. His smile is genuine. It’s not bitter, or twisted with cunning and control the way it usually is. It’s real. It’s glorious, and despite how my heart hurts after these new revelations have come to light, it’s all mine.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Ares

  I pull Pet up from the floor and hold her to me. Her body is hot against mine. Sweat cools on my skin, and I press my lips to the top of her head and just breathe.

  “Have you done that before?”

  “Yes.”

  “With Israel?”

  Now why would she mention him? I narrow my eyes, and pull away to see her expression. Heat colors her cheeks. “No, Pet.”

  “Athena?”

  I chuckle, and she interrupts.

  “Please don’t tell me ‘enough questions’. I came to you willingly. I knew I’d never be free of you again. I gave up everything for you, but I need to know. If I get her back, will I still be your Pet? Or will you discard me the way you did Israel?”

  I pull away and tilt her chin up to mine. “You will always be mine, Pet—”

  “And Athena? Israel? Did you tell them that too?”

  I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. I’m not having this conversation. I walk away and turn on the faucet. “Come, little one. I need a shower, and so does my dirty girl.”

  Her cheeks flush. She bows her head and takes a step toward me, but she stops in her tracks before the shower recess.

  “No, Sir.” Her words are barely a whisper, but I hear them, hear the obstinance in them, and I don’t like it one fucking bit.

  I glare at her. “What the fuck did you just say?”

  “No, Sir.” She’s louder now, as if her courage is growing by the second. We can’t have that, Pet. We can’t have that at all. “Not until I get some answers.”

  I quirk a brow, detecting the quaver in her voice though she’s trying hard to be brave. My laughter is dark, and condescending. Too loud in the acoustics of the bathroom. My Pet flinches. “Tell me, little one, what makes you think you can demand anything from me?”

  “Please, Ares. I have to know. I have to . . .”

  “Have to what?” I sneer.

  “I have to prepare myself for the possibility of being thrown away again.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ.” Full of so much violence and rage, I fist my
hand in her hair and yank her toward me. She screams. I turn her so that we’re facing the mirror, my front at her back and my eyes boring into hers. “Listen good, Pet, because I’m only going to say this once. You’re mine. You’ll always fucking be mine. And if I thought there was any other way to bring my sister back, I’d take it. But I’m not letting you go. I’m not throwing you away. I’m not capable of love, Pet, not the way you are, but if I weren’t fucked up and broken, you’d have it. For now, you have whatever I can give.”

  Tears stream down her pretty face, and I loosen my hold in her hair. She turns in my arms and wraps hers around me, squeezing me hard.

  For a beat, I don’t know what to do. Her tears wet my naked chest, and I cave. I wrap my arms around her just as tightly, because I’m helpless. I’m weak where she is concerned, and I loathe both of us for it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Pet

  It’s midday before my stomach begins growling, and I slide out from underneath a sleeping Ares and go in search of food.

  In the kitchen, the housekeeper, Rosa, is preparing lunch. I stand at the edge of the stairs, and I’m not sure what to do. I don’t want to just barge in, and from my previous exchanges with her, I know she doesn’t really speak English.

  “Hola,” I say, as it’s one of the few words I do know.

  “Hola.” She nods as she rolls out a thick dough with a rolling pin. “¿Tiene hambre, señora? You eat?” She makes a gesture to her mouth, as if she’s shoving food inside.

  I nod. “Yes, tiene hambre.”

  She makes a face and then smiles.

  I shake my head. “I mean, no. I haven’t eaten. Yes, I’m hungry.”

  “Ah, si tengo hambre.” She nods and I smile back. Then I head to the fridge and open it. She shakes her head and shoos me away with a lively hand gesture. “Siéntate, siéntate.”

  “I-I don’t know what that means.” She gestures to the chair at the island, and I feel like an idiot. I wish I’d paid more attention to Spanish in eighth grade. Without me having to ask, Rosa sits a tall glass in front of me and fills it with cold water from the pitcher she’s pulled from the fridge.

  “Gracias.”

  She nods and bustles back to the opposite side of the island. Picking up the rolling pin again, she continues working the little lumps of dough until they’re flat and cover the marble counter. I watch with rapt attention, wondering what she’s making.

  “You cook?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “No. I never learned.”

  “Ah, sí. Come.”

  “What?”

  “Come, come. Te enseño. I teach.”

  I hop off the stool and circle around to her side of the counter. She takes several containers from the other counter and opens the lids. One contains beef, one chicken, one has black beans, and another contains finely cubed potatoes. The aromas are heavenly, and my stomach growls.

  “Smells good, sí?”

  “Sí, yes.” I nod and watch carefully as she dishes out meat and the various vegetables, naming them all in Spanish. I repeat each word, and she nods. Her smile is sweet, soft, and sincere. It makes my chest pang for something I’m not sure I’ve ever had. Motherly affection.

  She sets the spoon in a container and gestures for me to go ahead. I begin filling the little pastry circles with ingredients as she nods and watches on. Next, we fold them, and Rosa shows me how to pinch the edges together with the tines of a fork. We work this way for a while, rolling out more pastry cases and filling them with different mixtures until voices outside the kitchen make me lift my head.

  Hermes enters the kitchen, and for half a beat I wonder if it’s Ares’ naked broad shoulders I see behind him, but as Hermes heads for the refrigerator, I notice the man behind him is paler, with thick, dark curls and eyes so blue–grey they’re unnatural.

  My heart sinks. “What the fuck is he doing here?”

  “Dios mío,” Rosa says, shooting me a disapproving glare.

  Israel smirks from across the room. He’s naked from the waist up, but the rest of him wears swim shorts, and beaded droplets of water trail over the hard planes of his body. Standing here without a collar, clothed, and not being forced to crawl on the floor, he’s so much more imposing than he was back at The Ranch.

  “Nice to see you too, Pet.” He spits my name as if it were a bad taste in his mouth.

  “Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that.”

  “Now, now, children,” Hermes says with obvious amusement.

  “You.” I whirl on him. “You did this?”

  “I thought if we’re going to train you to be the perfect slave, you may as well learn from the best.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “That’s enough, Pet.” My master’s voice runs over me like ice and fire, and I burn for him, crave him. Embarrassment flames my cheeks. I glance at Israel. I expect him to gloat, to look at me with superiority in his gaze. I should have known better. Why would I assume he would be looking at me at all when Ares is in the room? I hate the covetous way he stares at my Sir.

  I turn and find Ares’ gaze not on Israel like I expected, but on me instead. I’ll be sold to Vladik soon, but it didn’t take him long to find my replacement.

  Did he mean a word he said this morning?

  “You knew about this?” I snap. “Of course you did. Anything to get your little Achilles back into your bed.”

  “Rosa, leave us,” he barks, and Rosa hurries from the kitchen, clutching the hem of her apron in her hands. When the housekeeper is gone, Ares’ eyes narrow. “On your knees now, Pet.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Oh, you’re going to get fucked, trust me on that. But I highly doubt you’ll find pleasure in it.”

  “Everything you said to me this morning was a lie.”

  “I don’t lie. I have no fucking need for lies. Now get on your goddamn knees and crawl to me.”

  I hate him. God, how I hate him. I hate how I love him. I hate that he continuously hurts me, and like an idiot, I come crawling back for more. I should have fought when he came to my dressing room. I should have fought and called Agent Stahl, or Maximus. Instead, I came willingly. Or I would have, if he hadn’t drugged me. I hate him for making me believe time and again that I’m the most important person in his life. I hate that I’m gullible enough to believe it.

  “I won’t tell you again,” he says through his teeth. I sink to my knees on the hard tiles and crawl, wincing when the grooves dig into my soft flesh. “Why must you continue to behave like a brat?”

  Fuck you!

  I say nothing, though I’m sure my expression conveys my thoughts perfectly. I stop in front of him, defiantly looking him in the eye when I know my gaze should be cast at the ground.

  Sir reaches out and strokes a finger down my face. I’m so surprised by the tender touch that I don’t see the brutality in his gaze until it’s too late. He grabs a fistful of my hair and draws me to my feet. I scream and claw at his hands, desperate to get away, but I am a field mouse in the clutches of an eagle, and he intends to make me see that I’m nothing more than prey.

  “He is here because Hermes called him here to help with your training. Nothing more.”

  “You’re a liar.”

  “And you’re way out of fucking line, Pet.” He grabs the nape of my neck and pinches hard. It’s not lost on me that he could snap me as easily as a twig. He leads me up the stairs, but we don’t go left toward the bedroom. Instead, Ares heads in the opposite direction. He shoves me into a room, and I take a deep breath as I survey the surroundings. This isn’t Fifty Shades. There’s no red room of pain. Every instrument in here is designed to cause pain, yes—but it’s not a space designed for romance. It’s made for functionality. It’s cold, sterile, and sleek. Did he keep me from this room these past few days only to save it for when I truly deserved punishment?

  There’s an iron cage in one corner of the room, and for a beat, I think he’s going to lock me in
it, but he leads me to a black leather bench. He shoves me toward it, and when the edge of the cool leather meets my thighs, he pushes me down. “Lie on the bench on your stomach, legs either side.”

  I scramble to do as he commands, terrified of both obeying and disobeying my Sir.

  He moves around the seat, threading a leather strap through a buckle and cinching it tight against my calf. He repeats the motions with the opposite leg. Another is pulled tight around my waist, and a fourth and fifth bind my arms in place. I tremble as I watch him walk out of my periphery. His hand comes down hard on my ass, and I scream, more from the surprise than any actual real pain. This isn’t pain. My Sir knows how to inflict pain that will bring me to my knees, and this isn’t it.

  “Now, why are you here, Pet?”

  “Because I mouthed off about your little fuck toy.”

  He laughs as he turns from the various floggers, straps, and whips, hanging on the wall. It’s an artwork of torture implements, and it gives me shivers seeing him choose a thick leather collar. “Oh, little one. You’re angry, I’ll give you that. I would be too, but that’s not why you’re about to receive a severe punishment. So, I’ll ask again: why are you here?”

  I sneer at him, and the anger in his gaze has me re-thinking my boldness.

  “Fucking answer me!”

  “Because,” I sob. “Because I disrespected you, Sir.”

  “That’s right. And how do you plan to make up for it?”

  “I’m sorry, Sir. I’ll suck you. I’ll let you fuck me.”

  “Let me?” He raises his brows, and I lower my gaze as he strides across the room and stands behind me. “What makes you think you’re in a position to let me do anything?”

  “I’m sorry. Please, I’m sorry.”

  “Please what, Pet? What are you begging me for now?”

  “Please fuck me, Sir. Please?”

  “Fuck you? Oh, little one. It’s cute that you think this is about pleasure at all. It’s not.” He slips a collar around my neck, and then he’s gone again, to the wall where he chooses a large steel hook. At the end sits a round metal ball. I shake my head. He’s not going to fuck me with that. Is he? “At least not yours. But I will take great delight in punishing you.”