Book 2 Four-3
2093 Words
“Then why do you look like you’re seconds away from bursting into tears? You look beautiful.”
Peering at her reflection, I frown sadly. “Isn’t that the problem? The reason I’m here.” It’s because of my beauty that I was chosen, and at this moment, I would give anything not to stand out in a crowd. I want to blend in. I don’t want to be special. I just want to be left alone.
Sara doesn’t know what to say, but truthfully, there isn’t a thing she can say.
“Let’s get this over with.” I stand, straightening out the soft material of my dress. The heels add a few extra inches to my frame.
Sara nods and retrieves a cell from her apron pocket. My eyes widen, but she soon puts an end to my excitement. “I can only make calls to Alek and some of his men. He’s blocked any other numbers. Besides, he monitors all our phones.” Regardless, I have to try.
“Can you reach Saint?” I ask, almost lunging for the cell.
“Yes, but like I said, Alek would know.”
“Sara, please,” I beg, but she shakes her head firmly.
“I’m sorry, Willow. I can’t. He would kill me.” Her lower lip trembles. She is clearly terrified, so I let it go.
“I understand.”
“I’m sorry, I just can’t risk it. The last girl who disobeyed Alek…” She doesn’t continue, but there is no need for her to. I can fill in the blanks on my own.
She nods, her remorse clear that she can’t do more. She texts someone, and within five minutes, there is a knock on the door. “My chariot awaits,” I sarcastically quip, taking three deep breaths as Sara opens the door.
A young man stands outside my bedroom, but when he locks eyes with Sara, I see it. Something is going on between them. The blushing of her cheeks confirms it. From the way they politely greet one another, I’m guessing any relationship under Alek’s roof is strictly forbidden.
“Hi, I’m Hans. I’m to take you to where Alek and his guests are.” His has a strong German accent. I don’t fear him because his gentle brown eyes reflect the same sorrow as mine and Sara’s.
“Hi, Hans.”
He nods, but there is no time for small talk. He gestures I’m to follow him. Bidding farewell to Sara, I find her wringing her hands together, and the sight only adds to my nerves.
Hans wears black pants, a black T-shirt, and boots, similar attire to when I first met Saint. The gun at his hip isn’t concealed. I wonder what he did to end up here because it seems everyone within these walls is here against their will.
We walk the corridor, my heels clicking on the polished flooring as we make our way to the foyer. It’s still hard to believe how lavish this place is. Sara called it красная долина, and I wonder what it means.
“They are in the den,” Hans says, but every corner we turn looks the same. This is a different way from where I went today.
I follow quietly, trying my best to establish a path, a pattern because I need to learn the blueprint of this place. That trapdoor in the kitchen leads somewhere, and I’d rather I know where, instead of jumping down the rabbit’s hole without any idea of what’s headed my way.
A sketch of a naked woman on the wall will act as my marker because down the small corridor, I can see a group of men sitting around a poker table, smoking cigars and sipping from their crystal glasses.
My stomach turns when Alek comes into view. He’s seated at the head of the table with a deck of cards in his hands. When he hears us approaching, he turns to look over his shoulder, and his eyes come alight when he sees me.
I’m caught off guard when he stands. It’s such a chivalrous thing to do when a lady enters the room, but we all know Alek is no such thing. He makes no secret of examining me from head to toe. Three other men are with him, and instantly, the hair at the back of my neck stands on end. Not because they are malevolent in appearance, but because they are completely normal.
A wolf in sheep’s clothing.
They look like upstanding citizens, and judging by their expensive attire, they are extremely wealthy. But the fact they’re here socializing with Alek proves they are monsters just like him.
“I’m at a loss for words,” Alek says as I enter. Hans stands off to the side with his hands linked behind his back. “You are even more beautiful than I imagined.”
He extends his hand, indicating for me to approach, but I am suddenly frozen to the spot with what I see. On a large leather sofa in the corner of the room, Zoey lays with two other women. All are naked. Their limbs are entwined as they are sprawled out languidly in what appears a drug-induced state.
My cheeks blister. Even though they are merely lying there, it sets the mood for what’s about to come.
“Alek, you were right. She is exceptional,” a man says, sipping his drink as he devours me with his eyes. At a guess, I would say he’s in his 40’s and in great shape. His full head of groomed blond hair and baby blues would leave many admiring his good looks. But not me. He makes my skin crawl.
I’m too afraid to move when he stands. “I’m Oscar.” His accent is definitely Russian.
The other men watch on, and I do the same to them as I examine my enemies.
All are around the same age and look like doctors or businessmen—people you wouldn’t look twice at if you passed them on the street. However, Oscar stands out from the bunch, and that’s not a good thing. He reeks of authority, and by the way he looks at me, I think it’s safe to say he wants to assert that power over me.
“She’s shy,” Alek explains, making excuses for my suddenly clamming up.
Oscar nods, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “There is no need to be shy. We are all friends here.” He spreads his arms out wide, indicating Zoey’s lewdness is just a normal occurrence among acquaintances.
We are anything but friends, but I stay perfectly still when he walks toward me.
Alek watches carefully, but he doesn’t move. He allows Oscar to inch closer and closer. When we’re feet apart, he slowly reaches for my hand. My instinct is to recoil, but I refuse to cower in fear. He draws my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it, observing me attentively. His breath is warm, too warm.
“Is she housebroken?” he asks Alek, his mouth lingering on my skin.
Offended, I take back my hand and narrow my eyes.
In response, he laughs hoarsely. “Oh, Alek, I envy you. She is a treat.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I’m not a f*****g delicacy, but the world stops spinning when heavy footsteps announce someone’s arrival. Every fiber in my body prickles in awareness because he’s here—he’s really here.
Unable to stop myself, I turn over my shoulder quickly, and everything quiets for just a fraction in time. Saint appears stunned to see me but soon recovers. He wears his hair tied back, but it’s still not long enough for all of it to be held back, so some lose strands fall free, framing his chiseled cheeks. His beard has also grown.
He looks all the more rugged and wayward, standing here in all black, but that could just be the pissed-off look he sports when he sees Oscar standing near me. I want to go to him, but I don’t.
Oscar soon forgets about me as he zeroes in on Saint. “Well, hello. Where have you been hiding?”
Something shifts, and the room drops about a hundred degrees.
I watch with interest as something comes over Oscar. He seems…spellbound by Saint. I don’t understand what I’m seeing because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was more excited by Saint’s arrival than by the three naked ladies who lay feet away.
Saint ignores Oscar’s quip and walks over to Alek. “Everything taken care of?” Alek asks. Saint nods in response while I gulp.
What has he done?
Alek claps once, clearly excited by the news. “Oscar was just asking about aнгел.”
Saint trains his gaze on me slowly. How is it possible he can set me alight with a look alone?
“He asked if she was housebroken,” he continues with a wave of his hand while Saint’s jaw clenches. “I didn’t have a chance to explain your situation.”
“What situation?” Oscar asks, his interest piqued.
Too afraid to make a noise, I keep my breathing shallow.
The other men at the table are clearly not interested in the conversation and have decided to join the three women on the couch. When one of them bends low to suckle the brunette’s n****e, I instantly look away.
“Saint was the one who brought her to me, and because of this, he seems to be the only one who can…control her. Well, for now anyway.”
Oscar turns to look at me, grinning sinisterly. “I am utterly intrigued.” His ravenous look makes me feel sick, and I shrink away, afraid of what he’ll do.
“Would you like to see?” Alek’s tone is smug as though he’s showing off a new car to friends.
“You never disappoint,” Oscar replies, walking over to the poker table and taking a seat, clearly ready for a demonstration.
“Saint?” Alek says, hinting they’re waiting, but he doesn’t move. Saint continues to stare at me, undressing me with those hypnotic green eyes. The explosive moment between us causes everything inside me to combust into a million tiny pieces.
He clears his throat and walks toward me slowly. I don’t move a muscle because the closer he gets, the faster my heart beats. My memory has done a poor job remembering him because when he stops in front of me, it’s like I’m seeing him for the first time.
And when he speaks, everything collides into me, and I inhale, needing the oxygen to feed my deprived lungs. “Kneel, aнгел. By my side.”
Without question, I do what he asks.
It’s sensory overload as my body needs this—I need to be close to him, to obey him. I know how sick that sounds, but I can’t help it.
Oscar squeals and claps excitedly, but he can go to hell because when Saint reaches down and runs his fingers through my hair, everything else fades into the background. I’ve craved his touch. I’ve craved him. I can’t help the mewl that escapes me as I lean into his caresses.
We are facing both Alek and Oscar, and I know how this looks—like the good submissive, kneeling by her master’s feet—but truth be told, being here is the safest I’ve felt in days. Saint continues stroking my hair, and even though the parallels can be seen between this and how Alek strokes Zoey when she kneels at his feet, this is different.
Alek owns Zoey, and his touch is one of control, ownership. But the way Saint touches me—his caresses are filled with nothing but…love. And that fact has tears filling my eyes.
“I want her to meet my Dominic and Ingrid,” Oscar says, ruining the moment. I don’t know why, but something shifts between Alek and Oscar.
It feels as if Oscar is challenging Alek in some sense. Why?
Alek is soon to settle the mood. “Yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea. I was going to host a party in her honor. A masquerade ball maybe? When the time is right, I will unveil my девственница. The suspense is the best kind of foreplay.”
- Writer
