Dangerous Games

17

“Without going there,” I finish for him, my heart sinking.

We both know I’m in no shape to be going anywhere at the moment, which means Killian is going after Eva alone.

Which, aside from her being with Dimitri, is basically my worst nightmare.

SEVEN

EVA

The frigid air of the cellar crackles with electricity as the two bodyguards stare at me in silence, waiting for me to follow Dimitri’s command and remove my clothes.

If I don’t, my clothing will be removed forcibly. I know Dimitri would enjoy it if I put up a fight. I’m not sure if he’d have Vlad strip me so he could watch, or if he’d do it himself, but either way, he’d savor every moment of my resistance.

Almost as much as he’s savoring every moment of my hesitation.

I can tell from Vlad’s horrified expression that he now realizes he’ll be the one administering my punishment. He blinks rapidly, the whip gripped in his hand. His friend, however, seems intrigued by the drama unfolding. His brows are lifted, his eyes alight. He wasn’t expecting such sport, but he seems to be looking forward to it.

Dimitri, for his part, is merely observing. Caesar at the Colosseum, watching with interest as the lions are led in.

“Give me your gun,” says Dimitri to Vlad. “You’ll need both hands free.”

Vlad hands him the rifle. All the blood has drained from his face. I feel a strange sort of pity for him, ridiculous as it is. “It’s all right,” I tell him. “It’s not your fault. Let’s just get this over with.”

Vlad swallows again. Dimitri exhales an impatient little sigh. From somewhere outside comes another distant boom of thunder.

I’m about to instruct Vlad to keep the blows away from my kidney area when he shocks everyone by speaking Dimitri’s least favorite word.

“No.”

For a moment, I’m sure I misheard. But then I catch a glimpse of Dimitri’s face, his lips thinned to white and his nostrils flaring, and I know I’m not mistaken.

“I can’t hit a woman,” Vlad goes on nervously. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’ve never—”

The deafening crack of gunfire silences him.

I scream and dive onto the bed, covering my head. The sound of the machine gun firing in the small stone room is agonizing, like ice picks stabbing into both ears at once. Then the noise cuts off, and all that’s left is the burned stench of gunpowder and an awful wet gurgling noise that I recognize instinctively even before I turn to look.

“You are sorry,” says Dimitri, gazing down at the crumpled form of Vlad on the floor.

A ragged wound in his neck spits blood in a pulsing arc against the rough stone wall. His eyes are wild, his mouth gaping. His hands claw helplessly at his throat.

Sickened, I close my eyes and look away.

“What about you, Stefan? Where does your conscience sit on the subject of hitting a woman?”

The answer is unhesitating. “Your command is my conscience.”

“Excellent. Evalina?”

When I look at Dimitri, he makes a gesture with his hand, indicating where he wants me to stand to receive my beating.

You have to survive. Think of the speck. Stefan will want to make a good impression he won’t go easy he could really hurt you and you have to survive for the speck the speck the speck.

My mind is a blizzard of panic. My stomach is up in my throat.

Vlad might have been an ally, but Stefan definitely isn’t. There could be far more here at stake than my pride. I need to do something drastic.

I slide off the bed and go to my knees on the floor in front of Dimitri. Head bowed, I say, “Master. Please forgive me.”

If I thought the air was charged before, now it turns to fire.

Dimitri says, “Leave us.”

He hands the weapon to Stefan, then Stefan’s footsteps echo off the walls, growing fainter as he quickly ascends the steps. The big wooden door opens and closes, then I’m alone with the devil, kneeling at his feet.

He walks forward until the toes of his polished black shoes are an inch from my knees.

Vlad lets out a final soft gurgle. His hands flop lifelessly to the floor.

Then, for a long time, there’s silence, broken only by an intermittent boom of thunder rolling across the sky.

“Look at me.”

When I hear the heat in Dimitri’s voice, a shiver of dread runs through my body. I glance up, heart pounding.

“It’s a pretty picture you make, down there on your knees so appealingly submissive. But I’ve never required you to call me master. Why are you doing it now?”

I rack my brain for a clever answer but can’t find one. “As long as you’re alive, I won’t be free. What else can that make you but my master?”

He’s pleased by that, but disturbed by it, too. By the undercurrent of revenge running through the words like a poisoned thread. “As long as you’re alive.” It’s a threat gift wrapped in truth, and he knows it. But for some reason, it doesn’t provoke his temper.

“You were never a slave, Evalina. You’re still not.”

I’m confused by that, and by his wolfish expression, the sharp expectancy in his gaze, as if he’s been waiting for this moment. I thought a show of submission would buy me time, perhaps lighten my punishment, but he seems to have forgotten about my beating. There’s something else, something darker, on his mind.

“What, then? A hostage?”

“More like . . . an apprentice.”

For a moment, I’m blank.

Then a key inside my head fits itself into an old, rusted lock and turns. A door to an empty room creaks open, hinges groaning. I stand at the threshold, peering into darkness, looking for the monster that’s always been waiting to emerge.