I keep my eyes on my prey as I stalk back down the hallway toward her. She finally tracks her gaze up my body, lets out a whimper, and scurries back into the room. I follow and watch as tears pool in her big brown eyes.
“Those men kidnapped and touched you. They’re dead now.” I don’t owe her an explanation, but I offer it anyway.
She hikes her chin up, a small cleft at the center. “Then you saved me. So please take me home.” Her eyes plead with me, and I can tell she knows she’s not going home. Not tonight. Not ever.
“Oh, stellina, you’re not going anywhere.” I stalk forward and shove her back so she stumbles onto the mattress.
She stares up at me, the tears now pouring down her cheeks. She tugs the slip over her bare thighs to hide herself from me. For now, I’ll allow it because I have other business to attend to. But she won’t be able to hide from me for long.
I study her carefully, looking for any signs of a concussion from her blundering kidnappers. Her pupils aren’t blown, and she seems alert enough despite her terror.
“What do you want with me?” she whispers so softly I barely hear it.
Her voice is gentle, like a soft melody that invites a man to bed, promising carnal delight. She has no idea the damage her family has done, the things that can’t be undone, and the people that can no longer be brought back. If she knew what I really wanted from her, she’d be screaming and begging for me to let her go.
I tower over her, letting her take in my tattooed forearms below rolled-up sleeves. Blood coats my face, my slicked-back hair, my shirt—every inch above my navel.
A bloom of blood breaks up the creamy white expanse of her cleavage from where I pushed her back onto the mattress. Something in me uncoils at seeing a mark I made so boldly on her pretty skin. I wonder what she would look like painted in the blood of my enemies? I push the thought away before it can take root.
“Right now, stellina, I want you to shut the fuck up, and do what you’re told. If you do that, it’ll put me in a better mood, and I’ll be less inclined to kill you.”
She swallows heavily and tracks the blood dripping off me as if it punctuates my threat better than my words ever could.
“That’s not my name,” she grits out.
She remains huddled up, though, belying the heat in her tone.
I duck down in a crouch again so I can meet her eyes straight on. “I believe I said shut the fuck up, and do what you’re told. If I want to call you my little whore, I will call you that. And if I want you to call me Daddy while I fuck that sweet little cunt, you’ll do so with abject delight. Am I clear?”
She stares at me wide-eyed, her breaths heavy out of her nose. When she nods, I stand again and leave before I do something drastic, like drag her over my lap, fuck her into oblivion, and ruin my investment.
Because men are going to line up for a taste of her body.
Until someone pays for the privilege, she’s mine alone.
3
Celia
The man’s gun is bigger than my face. I don’t know why it’s the only thought that stuck in my head while he towered over me, covered in someone’s blood. No, I do know. It’s my brain trying to disassociate, to give itself a hold in reality, so I don’t fucking lose it.
Lose it like I am right now.
My hands are shaking as I stare down at them. Shock is setting in, and while my years of home-study psychology should help me, a trauma response isn’t necessarily controllable.
I let the images wash through me. The tattoos under the thick layer of blood up his arms. The rich material of his blood-splattered dress shirt. The flint blue of his eyes, again broken only by the blood splattered across his face.
He shot that man while he stared into my eyes, as if killing someone was as easy as brushing his teeth—his straight white teeth, which also sported a few blood droplets.
He’d been smiling when he killed those two men. Heartless and cruel. That’s all I could think of him. Who smiles as they end another human’s life? I don’t want to think that deeply into it, but every time I close my eyes, his face is all I see.
Stellina. He keeps calling me that, and I can’t place where I heard it last. It’s like the memory is in my mind, but it’s lodged deep in the back.
I wrap my arms around myself to abate the cold. A girl can use a knight in shining armor right about now. Just then, I picture Marco strolling through these street thugs, taking them out, and saving me.