“Don’t cry, my shattered sparrow. Not yet.” Knox bent down and caressed the back of my head, once again lifting my face so I was forced to look into his unforgettable eyes. He then took a handful of hair and yanked my head back hard. “Not until I give you something to cry about. And I will.” He bent his head down, brought his lips to my exposed neck, and kissed it. Tugging on my hair harder, he inched back and looked me square on, so close to my face that I could feel his breath on my lips. I could smell his manly scent of spice and control… if control had a scent. He was so close. I could almost feel him. I knew his touch wouldn’t be soft or gentle. There was nothing but raw power exuding from this man. “I most certainly will.”
2
I hadn’t noticed that the driver had still been in the manor until Knox nodded at him. “I’ll take it from here. Go ahead and tell Oz it’s handled, and I’ll be in contact soon.” He looked down at me and gave a fiendish smile. “As soon as I go over the ground rules and break our guest in.”
When the front door closed, I adjusted my weight to relieve the pressure on my knees. The small movement was not a good idea, however. Knox, who still had a handful of my hair in his grasp, jerked me up to a standing position. The sting on my scalp had me crying out, but I didn’t resist in any way.
“First rule,” he said between clenched teeth. “You do nothing without my permission. Nothing at all. I don’t care if you are uncomfortable, in pain, or just in the mood to do something of your own free will. You won’t do anything without my direct order, or you will suffer the consequences.”
He paused and waited for some type of response from me. I couldn’t talk. I was so terrified that I could only stare and nod. What consequences? Was he going to kill me or not?
“Let me explain why you are here,” he began. “Oz has graciously decided to grant you mercy. Of sorts. He believes in paying for your crimes, and that is where I come in. Oz has brought you to the Monsters of Mercy Manor as punishment for your wrongdoings. A far better punishment than the awful death he could have given you.”
“I don’t understand,” I began as Knox still held my hair firmly at the roots. “I’m not going to die? I wasn’t brought here to die?”
“That all depends. A death sentence is not off the table, but you have a chance to remove it.”
“How?” I asked, feeling the first spark of hope since the federal agents stormed through my office doors.
Still holding my hair, Knox led me to the stairs. “By paying your penance. You will gain your freedom by earning credits. Oz has sentenced you to one hundred credits owed. Once you pay those credits, you are free. Failure to earn them, or failure to earn them at a speed that Oz—and I, as your assigned Monster of Mercy—feel is appropriate will end in death. So, the choice really is up to you. Just as the choice of whether you would betray Oz was up to you. You clearly chose wrong, but hopefully when I am done with you, you will never make that mistake again.”
“He wants me to pay him with credits?” I tried to turn my head to look at Knox in desperation but was rewarded with a sharp pull of my hair as he led me up the stairs. “I can do that. How much are the credits? I will pay him whatever he feels fair. Whatever he wants, I will pay. I’ll find a way. I swear.” I stumbled up the stairs to try to keep up with his stride.
In the corner of my eye, I could see Knox smirk. “Oh, you will pay. You will definitely pay.”
When we reached the landing, I tried not to focus on the cries of women I could hear coming from other rooms down the long expansive hallway. My head spun as I was trying to process what Knox was telling me. My life was spared—for now. But what else was expected? I didn’t quite understand. Credits?
“Oz created this manor for women exactly like you. Women who need guidance, structure, and a firm hand on teaching them right from wrong. He’s granting you mercy.” Knox opened up a bedroom door and shoved me across the threshold as he followed close behind. “As long as you earn your hundred credits, you will come out of this alive.”
Looking around the room, it surprised me to see that it looked like any normal guestroom that would be in such an elegant manor of its day. I was expecting a prison or dungeon of some sort. Instead, a large canopied bed mastered the room with lush bedding and pillows. There was a floor-to-ceiling window draped with heavy velvet curtains. Antique furniture adorned the room and was even accentuated with a large oriental rug that covered most of the marred wooden floor. The room was lovely, elegant, and welcoming. Quite the opposite of what I was expecting.