Apprehension crawled over him, tickling the hairs on his arms. “Was that a keypad?”
A door opened, and he squinted into the fluorescent glare escaping from inside. Her grip on his hand tugged him over the threshold, and he followed, compelled, curious. Shocked.
His attention landed on the center of the room, and he struggled to process what he saw.
A teenage girl knelt before them, completely nude. Her white-blond hair and fair skin looked nothing like Liv. But what sent dread through his veins was how she lowered her brow to the floor, hands behind her back, thighs spread.
The door clicked shut behind him, snapping him out of his stunned paralysis. He averted his eyes to the cot in the corner and the steel rings bolted in the wall above it. Dear God, what was this place?
His pulse roared in his ears, his voice strangled. “That’s your sister?”
Liv cocked her head, a smirk pinned on her face.
Holy crap. Did she lie to him? Why?
Realization sank his stomach. She lied to lure him there.
He spun, yanked the door handle. No give. He slammed a fist on the door, a muffled thump. Solid wood. Reinforced with a steel jamb. “Let me out.”
“No.”
No? She was refusing to release him? His blood drained to his legs, leaving a trail of ice in its wake. He pawed at the keypad on the brick wall. His heart rate redoubled. Surely the naked girl was there voluntarily. Maybe they just wanted to have some fun with him, and he’d given the wrong signals.
He turned, pressed his back to the door, and tugged out his phone. “I’m not into this…whatever this is.”
The buttons wouldn’t respond. Black screen. He jammed his thumb against the power switch. Nothing.
A hard swallow caught in his throat. He raised his eyes, found her watching him with that terrible stillness about her. When she spoke, the voice didn’t belong to the girl with the silky lips and enthralling lullaby.
“You will learn, practice, and become the twelve requirements demanded by your Master.” She crouched to stroke the girl’s head, who hadn’t moved or glanced up.
It had to be a sick joke. Just some swinging neighborhood debauchery. He needed to hear her admit it, because imagining the alternative was kicking his heart rate to dangerous levels.
“So you lured me here for some kinky game where I play gimp boy to your…your…she-Master?” He released a laugh, and it was strained and desperate. “Sorry, babe. You’ve got the wrong guy.”
She rose and stalked toward him, her stride commanding, her expression blank. “I am a deliverer. I deliver the strikes that enforce your obedience.”
Her voice, sweet Jesus, it was so cold, so wrong.
He slid to the side of the door, choking on panic, and smacked the keypad. “Open the door.”
“I deliver the sexual training that justifies your purchase price.”
If he screamed for help, would anyone hear? “What’s really going on here, Liv? If you’re in trouble, I can help you. I know people you can talk to.”
She stepped into his space, the wall pressing against his back. “In ten weeks, I will deliver you to be sold.”
His breath caught. “You’re insane.”
What he saw in her eyes wasn’t insanity. Deeply-embedded resolve held her pupils immovable.
“Requirement number three,” she said. “Slave will keep his eyes down unless Master requests otherwise.”
The impulse to fight strengthened his spine. He was a linebacker, trained to run and tackle, so he lunged. Grabbed her shoulders. Slammed her chest into the wall beside the keypad. She didn’t fight, didn’t squeak under his rough handling.
“Enter the pass-code.” He pressed against her back and gripped her neck.
Her body slouched, free of tension beneath the brace of his arms. She wasn’t fighting him, and he realized why when the door swung open.
He swiveled, muscles heated to bolt, and met the short barrel of a revolver.
A hulking man strode through, his face shrouded by the hood of his sweatshirt. He kept the pistol aimed between Josh’s eyes and closed the door. “Release her.”
Josh let go of her neck, his jaw clenching painfully. She’d let him pin her, knowing she held the upper hand.
He took two steps back, hands up, and searched her face in a Hail-Mary hope her rigid mouth would crack into laughter and say, Ha, ha. You’ve been punk’d.
Her hips rocked in tight circles, slowly, seductively, as if an erotic dancer had taken over her body. She sashayed to stand beside the man with the gun and raised her chin.
The chill in her voice stopped his heart. “Eyes. Down.”
CHAPTER 5
“Joshua Carter no longer exists.” Liv gave him a second to absorb that, though the firestorm thrashing in his eyes told her he might need more than a pregnant pause.
Her heart rate threatened to rob the strength from her knees, and that kind of weakness pissed her the fuck off.
She gathered control over her features, arranging them into the stoniest expression she had. “For the next ten weeks, your name is whatever I want it to be.”
“Let me go.” Despite the pallor blanching his golden complexion, he glared down at her with the composure of a fearless man.
His maturity was emphasized by the whiskers darkening his square jaw and the carved contour of his rigid muscles.
She needed to think of him as a boy. Boys were malleable, unsteady, and less attractive. “For now, your name is boy.”
Standing by the locked door as if its proximity could save him, he set his jaw, green eyes sparking with defiance. Van kept his position beside her, the gun level with the boy’s head.
“Eyes down, boy.” Not that she expected him to obey. That progression had to be paved with his blood and tears. The thought stabbed a terrible pain in her chest.
His unwavering stare continued to press against her skin, and there was so much force in it, she didn’t think she could endure it much longer. She would, though. She would do anything for the hope that awaited her at the end of the
