Disclaim (Deliver 3)

“Ir a la mierda.” Camila angrily rubbed her cheek on her shoulder, trying to erase the fallen tears.

“You need to shut down that hormonal shit.” Matias rocked on his heels, seemingly at home in his despicable skin. “Like your papá used to say”—he laughed in a deep voice—“I’ll give you something to choke on.”

Her papá never said that, but it didn’t stop the smoke from billowing through her chest and strangling her airway. She seethed with the vicious need to wash the floors with his blood.

Nico rose from the chair and strolled over to Frizz. He drew a long drag on the cigarette and, without a whisper of emotion on his face, stubbed it out on the blonde’s stomach.

The piercing sound of her howls slammed Camila’s heart against her ribs, and the aroma of singed flesh pervaded her inhales.

Frizz launched into his haunting whistle and turned his gaze to the needle in his hand.

“No, wait!” Camila scrambled toward Frizz on her knees, her arms useless weights behind her.

Matias yanked Camila back by her hair. “Choose.”

Fuck fuck fuck. Her gut instinct was to volunteer herself, but if she did, she wouldn’t be able to stop them the next time, and all the times after that. But how could she condemn another to a life of rape and brutality? She couldn’t.

She raised her chin and spat the words. “I choose me.”

“Too easy.” Matias released her with a shove. “You disappoint me. I thought you were made of stronger stuff.”

“Why are you doing this?” Glaring at him, she fisted her hands behind her, mentally squeezing his scrotum between her fingers and ripping his balls from his body.

Blood-curdling screams jerked her head toward the blonde.

Frizz had made two loops over her eyes and swooped in for a third.

Oh fuck, oh God, they wanted a decision, but this wasn’t a choice at all.

“Her.” Camila nodded at the blonde, her voice cracking as she blinked through the onslaught of tears. “Just…please remove the stitches.”

Frizz stood and hauled the blonde to her feet. She keened loudly, her head swinging side to side as if trying to shake the threads from her eye. With a grip on her bound arms, Frizz dragged her out of the room and around the corner, trailed by the hiccupping sounds of her sobs.

An agonizing chill settled over Camila. So fucking cold. Her body was a vibrating cage, a prison of ice and violent tremors. The kind of shivering anguish that locked up muscles, sought out bones, and made her want to die. She couldn’t feel the sunlight on her back or the wood beneath her knees. Was this what death felt like?

But she wasn’t dead. She needed to fight for the blonde woman. For the women at her back. And for all the others bought and sold by these monsters.

“This is your life now.” Matias crouched before her and lowered his voice. “I am your life. Tu vida.” He hummed to himself, a smile pulling at his wretched lips. “When I spread your thighs, you will let me in, because I own these legs and everything above, below, and in between them. You fight me, and I’ll take it out on someone else.” With a raised brow, his gaze shifted to the women behind her and flicked back. “Now I know you’re a smart girl. Nod if you understand.”

Her throat constricted. He wanted her to be his slave, to wear his fucking chains. Well, wasn’t that perfect? She certainly despised him enough to endure that role with an appropriate amount of misery.

It’s just a means to an end.

Her slave training kicked in, and she lowered her eyes, bowing her head on a nod.

She would outwit him, fool him into thinking she was intimidated by his threats and weakened by her restraints. Then she would confide in him, figure out his angle, and convince him to turn on his boss.

If he refused, she would kill him.

MATIAS KNEW THE INSTANT CAMILA came to terms with her position as his slave. Her entire demeanor changed, her gaze falling to the floor, shoulders loosening, and spine straightening.

He didn’t believe for one second that this was surrender. The betrayed look in her eyes wouldn’t be going away for a while, and neither would the damn ache in his chest.

So while she would undoubtedly wear the role Van Quiso had taught her with mechanical perfection, she wouldn’t embrace it emotionally.

To obtain what he wanted, what they both needed, it was his responsibility to show her what it truly meant to yield to her Master.

“On your feet.” He stepped back and clasped his hands at his back.

She rose gracefully, head down and arms drawn behind her in the cuffs.

Tendrils of black hair fell in front of her shoulders and hid her face, but he was sure her eye was twitching. Good thing he couldn’t read her mind. He’d rather not know all the ways she imagined killing him. She wouldn’t succeed.

“Follow me.” He gave Nico a nod on his way out of the living room without looking back to confirm she obeyed.

Crossing the white marbled floors of the circular foyer, he veered toward the glass causeway that would take him to the east wing.

“Are you going to rape me now?” She appeared at his side, voice devoid of emotion as she matched his strides on silent feet. “Or can I take a shower first?”

He swung around and clamped a hand on her forehead, snapping her face upwards as he stabbed two fingers in her mouth. Pressing down on her tongue while pinning her head back, he trapped her startled gaze with the hard warning in his.

After a few noisy breaths, her jaw relaxed beneath his hand.

Good girl. He released her and turned back toward the hall.

Truth was, he loved her verbal banter. It was one of the many reasons he hadn’t gagged her…yet.

He held his arms behind him, mirroring hers, and led her out of the causeway, past one of the three kitchens, and through an open terrace sitting area.

The warm breeze filled his lungs with the scent of rich soil, vegetation, and sunlight. The aroma of vida. One of his favorite features here was the ability to fold back the walls in every bedroom and living space and create this indoor-outdoor atmosphere.

“I thought mosquitoes were a plague in the jungle.” She squinted against the rays that filtered through the overhead trellis. “Or maybe that’s the idea. Are itchy, swollen bites one of your many methods of torture?”

“The balconies are above the tree tops, too high for insects. Turn right here.” He let her lead one step ahead and into the expansive library so that he could savor the exploratory shifts in her gaze as she took in the estate for the first time. “There are mosquito repelling flowers planted at ground level, and we spray when needed.”

“You say we as if your ass is out there exterminating bugs.” She pursed her lips. “Or is that how you started in this business? Did you leave Texas to become a liveried servant for slave traders?”

“I was never a servant.” He clenched his jaw at her blatant attempt to offend him. “But we employ a full staff. The servants live”—he pointed at a building nestled beneath a canopy of foliage—“there.”

“Is that where I’ll be staying?” Her eyes lowered to his dick and quickly snapped away. “Or do you keep all the slaves in a basement dungeon?”

“No dungeons.” The holding cells were in the west wing. “Tu vida es with me.”

“How does your boss feel about that?” Her gaze swept across his face and returned to the landscape. “Does he always let you keep random slaves for your sick enjoyment?”

“We both know you’re not a random slave.”

She pulled in a breath. “By both, do you mean you and me? Or you and Nico?”

“Hmm.” A smile tickled his mouth. He’d let her stew on that for a while.

“What about the slaves in the living room?” she asked. “And all the ones that came before them? Do you rape them, too?”

He grabbed her arm, stopping her forward motion. “I’ll allow your questions as long as the conversation interests me.”

She limbered up her shou

lders and curled her lip.

“Matters concerning Nico and our business are off limits.” He tightened his grip. “Before you open your mouth, be damn sure it’s a response befitting your station.”

She rolled her jaw as if warring with her words, her eyes huge and feral. Then she looked away.

“Yes, Sir.” She lowered her head.

Wicked satisfaction zipped down his spine and coiled low in his groin, throbbing urgency along his hardening shaft. He needed to bury himself inside her and fuck her vigorously and thoroughly until they were both spent. Christ, he’d fantasized about it since the moment he started beating off in their grove.

The end goal was to earn her loyalty and gain her consent, an undertaking that would require weeks, months, maybe longer. In the meantime, he was under no delusions that he had the strength or the honor to wait around while she worked shit out in her head.