Her Beast (Beauty and the Captor 1)

The man grabbed my arm and yanked back so hard it nearly pulled my shoulder right out of its socket. I landed hard on his chest and he bent my arm back painfully, forcing me back down on my knees.

And then he leaned down until his lips were next to my ear. “You’ve defied me, slave, for the last time. I am going to whip you now, and I won’t stop until you’re unconscious. And then I’ll revive you by shoving my cock up your ass, and then I’ll whip you again. You will bleed, slave. And you will never defy me again.”

No. Oh god, no. Please, no. Just let me die, I begged the universe. But when I opened my mouth, it wasn’t death I cried for.

“Derek!”

7

Derek

I couldn’t get the image of her out of my head—first, the little girl she’d been, dragged from one hell to the next. First my sick father, then hers.

And then the young woman—the woman I’d ripped away from one hell only to thrust her into yet another. Had she ever known peace, or anything close to it? If she had, she never would again with the future I’d laid out for her.

But what the fuck was I supposed to do? The deal had been made. Marcos had finalized it two days ago. And selling a slave wasn’t like selling a car. There was no changing your mind at the last minute—not unless you wanted to lose all credibility, irrevocably. And it wasn’t just my reputation on the line. It was Marcos’ reputation as well. I owed the man everything. My life. I couldn’t do that to him. And even if I was selfish enough to do it, all for some ridiculous feeling for the girl, he wouldn’t allow it. Not for her, and not even for me. I had no choice but to hand her over.

I could take her and run. The idea held appeal, but how far would we get? Marcos would hunt her down to complete the transaction. And he would hunt me down for the betrayal.

There were no options. No way out. All I could do was keep with the plan and make sure she was as well-trained as possible. That way, she’d suffer less under her new master.

Anger jolted through me at the thought of another man touching her, tasting her. It surprised me. I’d never cared about a girl enough to be the jealous type. But when I thought of her body responding to another man in the same way it had responded to me…I wanted to commit murder. I wanted to rip him apart limb from limb, and I’d take pleasure in every second of it.

Fuck!—what had I gotten myself into? She was just another girl, another slave. I’d trained a multitude of them and never once cared about another man touching them. Why now? Why this one?

Because she was different. I’d known it all along. Her uniqueness, her fight, and her fire…they had appealed to me from the beginning. I’d just never imagined those things would make me want to keep her for myself. But god damn it, that’s what I wanted. What was even more fucked up was I didn’t just want the obedient slave. I wanted Scarlett.

But I couldn’t fucking have her.

Fuck it, I thought as something snapped inside and I strode back inside the house. Maybe I couldn’t keep her. Maybe for her own good, I would have to hand her over. But she was going to be mine. Mine!

I was going to make her mine. And I knew it wouldn’t be against her will. No, I didn’t want her that way. I wasn’t going to rape her. I was going to fuck her. I was going to tease and tempt her hot, little body until she was begging for it, and then I would make her mine.

It was a crazed plan born of anger and lust and possessiveness, one with ramifications I refused to even consider at the moment.

I stormed through the house as all the blood in my body drained to my cock. By the time I reached the door to her room, I was already throbbing painfully. I flung open the door…

…and then I froze.

It took a full second to compute what the fuck was going on. I’d been so caught up in what was about to happen that the scene in front of me seemed unreal, a figment of my crazed imagination. But it was real. Too fucking real.

Marcos’ whip came down across her back and she screamed. The sound was nothing like the times I’d spanked her, even with the belt. It was filled with agony, and there were none of the signs of the lust that had wound through her body when I disciplined her. Only agony. It reached inside me and squeezed hard around my heart.