Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3)

It was the gentle rock of the van that drew Luna awake many hours later. No longer did sunlight spill in through the windshield, but rather the waning glow of the moon. She could tell from the way the bag over her head looked especially dark now that she was back awake.

How far had they gone in her lost hours? Was she still in the same place—but even that question would be hard to answer since she didn’t exactly know where she had been taken.

They only drove for a short while longer, that little time spent trying to wiggle her arms free of their restraints, before they came to a grinding stop, the van jerking a bit as it was parked.

She could hear water running just outside the van, making her brows draw together as doors slid open and hands were on her once more to get her out.

The water was closer now, a fountain she thought, before she was swept away. Laughter carried from up ahead as well as the sniffles and soft crying of other women.

It seemed, she wasn’t the only captive here tonight.

More shuffling, stumbling steps, and harsh curses accompanied her until they finally came to a stop, the bag ripped from her head.

Her eyes stung as bright lights assaulted her, and blinked rapidly to try and see around her.

But the light soon dulled as a figure blurred at the edges of her vision before blocking the light out entirely.

“What’s this?” the man asked, though it was weird to think of him as that since he didn’t seem that much older than Luna.

The man from the warehouse stole her attention as he tsked, waving his hand as though the question annoyed him. “Do with them as you will.”

But this man with the blindingly white smile and blonde hair didn’t seem to care about anyone other than Luna. His gaze was fixed on her and her only.

Not lingering, he grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her out of the room, laughing any time she stumbled, desperately trying to keep up with his rapid pace.

He didn’t slow down, not until they reached a rather cavernous space that if she had to guess was his office. Twin bookcases with a painting of a royal figure hanging between them was the backdrop to a cherrywood desk, the items atop it neatly placed.

This time when she stumbled, he allowed her to fall, her knees burning as she slid across the floor. He slammed the door shut and locked it with a flick of his wrist, then looked to her on the floor as she staggered, trying to regain her footing, but that was hard to do with her hands bound.

He went over to his desk a moment and poured a drink, throwing it back with little grace. When he came back over, his eyes were slightly wilder, his smile a little more feral.

“Now where did my father find you?” he asked running a finger along the curve of her face, not deterred by the way she jerked away from him.

Between gritted teeth, she said, “Let me go.”

“Why on earth would I do that?” he asked, truly appearing baffled by her command. “The fun hasn’t even started yet.”

When he brought his finger up to her face once again, this time skimming over her lips, she lashed out, biting him as hard as she could.

“Shit!” the expletive left his lips a moment before he yanked his hand away, but she wasn’t given the chance to smile at her victory when that same hand came back around and he landed a powerful slap to her face, enough to send her head jerking to the side, pain exploding in her cheek.

Luna was dangerously close to tears as her face burned, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

“Stupid little whore. One would think you would try to please me, but if you want it hard sweetheart, that’s all you had to say.”

He stepped out of her view, but he wasn’t gone for long before he was back with a wickedly sharp knife in hand. He held it up for her to see, making her still in her frantic movements to get away.

“Fight me on this and your binds won’t be the only thing cut.”

Even as her body rebelled at the idea of remaining rooted in place, Luna forced herself to stay perfectly still as he used the knife to cut through the ropes around her arms, but despite his words, she did find herself wincing every time he nicked her skin.

Once he was finished, he tossed the blade well across the room, then grabbed hold of a chain that was affixed to one of the legs of his desk and snapped the cuff around her ankle.

It had only been a matter of seconds before she was caught, the steel around her ankle preventing her from getting more than a foot away from the desk.

“A pretty little thing, you are. I always like it when they fight—it’s why I’ve removed the rope” he said almost reverently, and this time when he touched her, she didn’t lash out at him, already afraid of what would happen if she did. “I wonder what you feel like. Are you soft and ready for me?”

A whimper crawled up her throat when he reached for her again, the grip he had on her face so tight that he was pressing the delicate skin of the inside of her cheeks against her teeth. But that pain she could withstand, it was when his other hand started fumbling with her pants that she felt real panic.