One time I took some of her clothes. She folded her items to hide the hole, her cheeks pink the entire time.
And just last week, I stole one of her scarves.
I intend to reacquaint her with it very soon.
“I’ll meet with Jacquelyn before Warren heads over, make sure she’s still up to the task,” Claude says.
I nod. “Good. He and his band of misfits intend to play with Camilla first, so depending on how that goes, he may be a little late. He’s rather displeased at her inability to create an heir.”
Claude snorts. “I can’t wait to watch him bleed.”
“Oh, it’ll be a glorious sight indeed,” I agree, my lips curling.
Red has always been my favorite color.
And tonight, I’ll wear it with pride.
In the form of my brother’s blood.
Don’t worry, Warren. I’ll take care of everything. Including your pretty little wife.
Chapter Two
Camilla
I’m curled into a ball, waiting for them to leave and trying not to cry from the pain of their cruelty.
Warren often shares me, but never like this.
His friends were brutal tonight. Taking everything. Punishing me with their thrusts. Making me bleed. All while Warren watched with this dangerous smile on his face. He’s still hard. I can see the outline of his erection in his suit pants, but he doesn’t want me to satisfy him. He’ll go play with his whores for that.
This was about punishment for not providing him with an heir.
He wanted his friends to hurt me. To bruise me. To leave marks on the possession he no longer considers his.
“Maybe you’ll take their seed instead,” he taunted. “I’ll have to abort it, of course. But at least then I’ll know you can fucking do your job.”
Everyone laughed at the comment.
Everyone except me.
They’re still chuckling now, amused by my trembling.
One of them kicks me in the side, just to make me flinch. I do because I have no choice, and I hate them just a little more as a result.
I spent my life preparing for this treatment. As the daughter of an elite, I was born into the bride program, knowing I would one day serve a powerful man and do whatever he desired.
Warren is that man.
And tonight, he desires my agony.
I don’t understand. I’m only twenty-four. My body is fertile and young and ready. I should be pregnant, but I’m not. And he’s ensuring I feel the extent of his annoyance.
The men laugh again at something that’s said. A derogatory comment, I’m sure. I hope that means they’re done, because I can’t take much more. As it is, I’ll struggle to walk tomorrow without feeling the things they just did to my ass.
Warren uses his fancy shoe to nudge up my chin, his steel-blue eyes soulless and cold. He says nothing as he stares down at me, a lock of his dark hair falling waywardly over his brow.
Then he leaves without a word, his friends following like good little lapdogs.
My shoulders sag in relief as the first tear escapes my eye.
I hate him.
I hate this.
I hate my life.
I hate what I’ve become.
Not that I ever had a choice. I grew up in this world, knowing I would serve at the feet of a powerful man and bear his children. But I can’t even do that right.
I curl tighter into a ball, longing for a new reality. But I don’t even know what that reality would entail.
Only, I do. I know exactly what I would prefer.
Or rather, who.
I picture him in my mind, admiring his chiseled features and those dark green eyes framed by thick black lashes. They hypnotize me with their cunning intelligence, making my pulse skip a beat at the intensity radiating from them. He would draw his fingers through his thick dark mane, then scratch the stubble on his chin, as he studies me intently, always watching.
My thighs clench as my core pulses with forbidden yearning.
He watches me sometimes, his stare always penetrating, like he can see right through me. I often dream about his eyes, his hands, his mouth. I fantasize about him, too.
It’s wrong.
He’s my husband’s brother. His twin. But they couldn’t be any more different.
Warren is obsessed with his image. He needs to know the world loves him and that everyone is prepared to bow at his feet.
Master Kaiden is power personified.
He’s always in a fitted suit. He never smiles. He doesn’t play the political game and chooses to lead from behind the scenes. He almost goes unnoticed, except he has a presence about him that just demands submission.
I’ve found myself wanting to kneel for him on more than one occasion.
But he never talks to me.
Only watches.
I look around my room now, sensing his presence all around me.
Sometimes, I think he visits when I’m not here, because I can smell his woodsy aftershave. And someone keeps leaving books for me. I know they’re not from Warren. He doesn’t do gifts for anyone other than himself.
A depraved part of me believes they’re from Master Kaiden. They’re all erotic in nature, constantly teaching me new things I yearn to experience with a man.
I’m not innocent.
I’ve been taken in every way imaginable, but I’ve never experienced sensuality. And that’s what lurks between those pages.
Hot scenes filled with passion and sex.
My blood warms with the thought, only for my core to ache with the reminder of what I’ve just endured.
I need a bath to wash it all away.
It takes me several minutes to crawl across the floor, my legs shaking with the effort. But I finally make it and begin the process of filling the master tub. It’s the only item other than my library that I actually like in this elegant prison.
Well, and Master Kaiden. That’s the nickname I heard one of the maids use once. I’ve used it ever since. To call him just “Kaiden” seems wrong. He’s too enigmatic for a solitary name.
Unlike Warren. I’ll never refer to him as master anything. Unless he demands it, in which case, I won’t have
