signing some stupid-ass agreement.
I stand on shaky feet and wonder why Brax hasn’t come to check on me or why Dubois is no longer here. Once I’m sure I won’t be sick again, I brush my teeth with the toothbrush that was provided to me. When I finish, I stare at the woman in the mirror.
What happens after six months?
For a long time, I haven’t focused any farther than my next fix of heroin. But now? Now, I’m concerned that I’m not cut out for this life. If drugs are all that I live for, why am I even still around living?
I sigh and find some face wash from a cabinet. It doesn’t take long, but soon I’ve scrubbed away all of Cartier’s hard work. My dark hair still looks pretty in long waves in front of my shoulders but my eyes seem innocent now that they’re free of the dark makeup.
The dress doesn’t feel right on me anymore. I crave to wear something comfortable and warm. As soon as the dress hits the floor, I scan my appearance in the mirror. The black lacey ensemble underneath was a waste.
“What now?” I ask myself.
Braxton’s stormy figure appears behind me. My eyes widen, drinking him in. He’s no longer wearing his suit jacket or tie. His white dress shirt is splattered with blood and his hair is a wild mess. I’ve never seen him look so disheveled. Or so ruggedly masculine.
“Did he fuck what’s mine?” he snarls.
I shiver, not because I’m afraid, but his possessive tone turns me on. “You broke down the door before he had a chance.”
My thoughts flit back to earlier—how I was so eager to take the pills and let the numbness take over that I didn’t even have any concern for my safety. A man nearly raped me and I let it happen. Tears well in my eyes with anger at myself. My bottom lip trembles and I turn to face the man that’s been playing games with me since I met him a little over a week ago.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him with a quiver of my chin.
His brows furrow together as he studies me silently. After a moment, he nods. “You’re my toy. All mine.”
I allow myself to be gathered in his warm embrace and I snuggle against his chest. “What did you do to him?”
He sighs and strokes my hair. “I killed him.”
The thought should alarm me but in some small way, it doesn’t. And that thought alarms me. That I’ve become so jaded and battered that I am indifferent to the loss of a life. But when you get pushed, and pushed, and pushed . . . well, yeah. I’m there. That bastard, like every other ass in my life, tried to take advantage of me. And even though Brax is a cruel, psychotic prick, he cares for me more than any other man I’ve encountered in the last decade. “Thank you.”
His body stiffens. “That doesn’t . . . upset you?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I laugh but it’s humorless. “I’ve had a lifetime of being upset. Now I’m just numb.”
He’s quiet and doesn’t respond to my words.
“I’ve been hiding for so long. I just want to feel something again.” My words are whispered but he seems to hear them. “Even if it only means for six months.”
His hands travel over my shoulders and they gently wrap around my throat. The blue in his eyes is gone and the stormy grey replaces it. “I want to make you feel, Bunny,” he murmurs, his lips grazing over mine. He squeezes slightly. “I want to hurt you.”
My hands cover his and I nod. “I want you to hurt me,” I say, and then I try the unfamiliar word out on my tongue, “ master .”
His eyes slam closed and when he reopens them, they’re wild. I don’t know the man staring back at me. He’s not the smug jerk who conned me into signing a stupid agreement. He isn’t the suave businessman who intimidates people with one of his signature scowls.
No, the man staring at me isn’t a man at all.
He’s evil.
Dark and sinister.
A demon.
And I want him.
“Please,” I beg, “show me what you like. I need to connect with you. I’ll show you I can be what you want. I crave for
I stand on shaky feet and wonder why Brax hasn’t come to check on me or why Dubois is no longer here. Once I’m sure I won’t be sick again, I brush my teeth with the toothbrush that was provided to me. When I finish, I stare at the woman in the mirror.
What happens after six months?
For a long time, I haven’t focused any farther than my next fix of heroin. But now? Now, I’m concerned that I’m not cut out for this life. If drugs are all that I live for, why am I even still around living?
I sigh and find some face wash from a cabinet. It doesn’t take long, but soon I’ve scrubbed away all of Cartier’s hard work. My dark hair still looks pretty in long waves in front of my shoulders but my eyes seem innocent now that they’re free of the dark makeup.
The dress doesn’t feel right on me anymore. I crave to wear something comfortable and warm. As soon as the dress hits the floor, I scan my appearance in the mirror. The black lacey ensemble underneath was a waste.
“What now?” I ask myself.
Braxton’s stormy figure appears behind me. My eyes widen, drinking him in. He’s no longer wearing his suit jacket or tie. His white dress shirt is splattered with blood and his hair is a wild mess. I’ve never seen him look so disheveled. Or so ruggedly masculine.
“Did he fuck what’s mine?” he snarls.
I shiver, not because I’m afraid, but his possessive tone turns me on. “You broke down the door before he had a chance.”
My thoughts flit back to earlier—how I was so eager to take the pills and let the numbness take over that I didn’t even have any concern for my safety. A man nearly raped me and I let it happen. Tears well in my eyes with anger at myself. My bottom lip trembles and I turn to face the man that’s been playing games with me since I met him a little over a week ago.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him with a quiver of my chin.
His brows furrow together as he studies me silently. After a moment, he nods. “You’re my toy. All mine.”
I allow myself to be gathered in his warm embrace and I snuggle against his chest. “What did you do to him?”
He sighs and strokes my hair. “I killed him.”
The thought should alarm me but in some small way, it doesn’t. And that thought alarms me. That I’ve become so jaded and battered that I am indifferent to the loss of a life. But when you get pushed, and pushed, and pushed . . . well, yeah. I’m there. That bastard, like every other ass in my life, tried to take advantage of me. And even though Brax is a cruel, psychotic prick, he cares for me more than any other man I’ve encountered in the last decade. “Thank you.”
His body stiffens. “That doesn’t . . . upset you?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I laugh but it’s humorless. “I’ve had a lifetime of being upset. Now I’m just numb.”
He’s quiet and doesn’t respond to my words.
“I’ve been hiding for so long. I just want to feel something again.” My words are whispered but he seems to hear them. “Even if it only means for six months.”
His hands travel over my shoulders and they gently wrap around my throat. The blue in his eyes is gone and the stormy grey replaces it. “I want to make you feel, Bunny,” he murmurs, his lips grazing over mine. He squeezes slightly. “I want to hurt you.”
My hands cover his and I nod. “I want you to hurt me,” I say, and then I try the unfamiliar word out on my tongue, “ master .”
His eyes slam closed and when he reopens them, they’re wild. I don’t know the man staring back at me. He’s not the smug jerk who conned me into signing a stupid agreement. He isn’t the suave businessman who intimidates people with one of his signature scowls.
No, the man staring at me isn’t a man at all.
He’s evil.
Dark and sinister.
A demon.
And I want him.
“Please,” I beg, “show me what you like. I need to connect with you. I’ll show you I can be what you want. I crave for
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