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Only in the darkest recesses of one’s mind would they ever find true freedom. To push the limits of what they were capable of, to have their character revealed when there were no restraints to restrict the desires within—that was what defined who they were. But where there was a perpetrator, there was a victim. The actions and trials of both were not without consequence. To know fear in its purest form was to live, and life was the greatest gift we were bestowed.
Love may have taken residence in my heart, but love killed. And here, she was safer with the monsters than the devil who tracked her every move.
Everleigh Davenport. That had been her name. She’d been born to a wealthy man—a man Mr. Vicolette hated. But he hadn’t hated her. The sick fuck loved her. Even at the tender age of ten, when he’d had her taken and brought here—an act that almost had my father killing him.
Don’t fear your Master, slave. Fear the devil at your back. Fear the reflection you can’t see staring back at you in the mirror. I’m everywhere. I see your every move. I’ve seen…for years. When and what I want of you, I will take. Fuck everyone. Let them try to get in my way. You belong to me when I decide the time is right. For your sake, you better hope that day never comes.”
Love didn’t tame monsters like me. The stupid fucking emotion only intensified it.
“I’m coming back for you later tonight. In the morning.” I slowed, grinding my hips into her inner-most thighs. “I’m going to fuck you so much, your new Master will never come close to giving you what I do. I’m going to ruin you for him, slave. He may be attractive. He may treat you well. But you will never want him like you want me. I feel you. I see you,” I whispered in her ear. “I’ve got you.”
“You’ll stay with me tonight. You’ll sleep with me so I can hold you like this. I don’t ever want to let you go.” And with those words, I let myself shatter. My body shook with spasms and my heart swelled to heights I’d never imagined. True to his word, I became ruined for anyone else. I wasn’t a slave in our moment. I was his.
“I would beat you so hard with my cock, but I’d much rather shove it down your throat so you stop talking back with your smartass mouth.”
“Dammit, slave, I’d fuck you covered in your own blood then bathe in it if it didn’t mean I’d lose you. That’s my dilemma. I’ve wanted you so much and for too long, nothing is impossible.”
“You look like arm candy—just another slave to a rich Master. There’s nothing wrong with that. There is an elegance about the dress, despite the sexiness. If it were me, I’d suggest slacks and a turtleneck. With the right accessories, you’d look dominant—powerful without having to flaunt what you have. They all know what lies beneath that dress. They’ve seen it. Felt it. Don’t remind them of what they lust for. Cover yourself, Everleigh. You’re beautiful no matter what you wear.”
If West had his way, the moment Bram took his last breath, he’d open The Cradle. He’d bring back the trials, public executions, stoning, and public rape. It wouldn’t just be a nightmare. All the sins of hell would come to Whitlock, and we’d all burn with them.
