“I assure you it is nothing like the others,” Uilleam returned. “I’ve bought one of Emmett Kendall’s girls, but I’ll explain everything once I see you.”
Kit cast his gaze skyward, as though that might provide him answers. “You bought a whore, Uilleam? What on earth for?”
“Whore is such an ugly word, isn’t it? But, as I said, we’ll discuss when I see you next.”
For fuck’s— “My answer is no now, it’ll be no later. There’s nothing to talk about.”
“We touch down in four hours. I’ll see you then.”
Kit didn’t get a chance to say anything more before his brother had hung up. There was no point in calling back—Uilleam wouldn’t answer.
Tamping down his annoyance, Kit turned back to the cabin in time to see Aidra walking toward him with a curious expression on her face.
Already, he didn’t like the sight of it—he knew that expression spelled trouble. “What’s happened?”
“The Kingmaker,” Aidra said—she never called Uilleam by his name. “Apparently, he took out Emmett Kendall.”
Now more than before, Kit knew that whatever favor his brother would ask of him, he wouldn’t like.
Chapter Two
2009 October 31
1,038 … 1,039 … 1,040 …
Each of those seconds passed with excruciating slowness, but Luna Santiago counted each of them from the very first when she had been forced to her knees, to the very last—a moment before the bitter taste of semen spilled on her tongue. Even three years later, she still had to fight the urge to vomit as soon as the milky liquid hit her tongue.
She refused to swallow, letting it drip from her mouth instead as Lawrence Kendall—her captor and abuser— grunted his approval, eyes riveted to the disgusting sight she must have made. He breathed rather harshly as he jerked his pants up around muscled hips, carefully tucking his now flaccid penis away.
Her job done, Luna waited until his back was turned before she grabbed the towel he allowed her to keep nearby, dragging the rough material over her face.
As he turned back to look at her, she saw the fine mist of sweat coating his brow, his eyes shining with a mixture of glee and dark amusement. Despite the last half-hour he’d spent in the room with her, he was ready to go again.
Once, that had been the most disgusting part about him—the casual way in which he went about preparing to leave as though he hadn’t violated her without care—but then she had learned to avert her gaze, pretending like he didn’t exist for as long as she could.
But then she had learned that it was nothing compared to the way he came toward her once they were finished and pat her head like a good little pet—or sweeping his fingers over her skin as though needing to remind her of what they had just done.
It wasn’t nearly as vomit worthy as the actual pain that came when she clutched at sheets to keep from screaming out in pain as he grunted in her ear, but it was a close second.
“Get yourself cleaned up,” Lawrence said running thick fingers through cropped blonde hair. “You’ll be with me today.”
Luna didn’t respond—she didn’t even blink.
She knew better.
Instead, she just waited for him to go before stumbling to her feet and going about her routine.
First she stripped the bed as she had been taught, dropping it all on the floor at the foot of it where someone would stop in to take it all away.
It didn’t matter that this time the bed had gone unused, Lawrence had sat on it, and that was enough for her.
It was a ritual at this point—something she no longer thought about.
She longed for the day when the routine broke.
Glancing at the door, she contemplated turning the lock, but knew better—it wouldn’t be worth the beating she took if she did. Instead, she started for the bathroom, the chain around her ankle rattling as she walked.
It had taken a solid two months to get used to the feel of the metal when she had first been given to Lawrence. The chain links were thick and sturdy, the anklet just as wide. No amount of tugging and pulling had loosened it—and even when she’d lost weight, it still wasn’t enough to get her ankle through.
The restraint was just long enough, allowing her to move through the space with ease, though she wished the weight wasn’t so familiar.
Turning the taps to the shower on, Luna went back to the sink to lean against, waiting for the water to heat. With her toothbrush in hand, and a healthy dollop of toothpaste, she scrubbed her mouth and tongue until she couldn’t taste anything but mint and cool air.
And only once steam billowed out from behind the glass door did she get in the stall.
The first lash of water across her bare skin was the worst—the scalding heat already reddening her naturally tan skin. It was almost unbearable, but she refused to move from the onslaught, letting it sink into her pores and purge everything out.
Under the spray of water, she washed it all away.
The filth.
The reminder that her life was no longer her own.