Saint snorts. “The Lords think otherwise.”
I roll my eyes. “How many times do I have to say this? I don’t?—”
“Remember how you ended up on the floor with your wrists cut open like a fish.” Kashton interrupts me. “However, I remember it perfectly since I was the one who found you.” His eyes narrow on mine.
He’s still mad at me because he thinks I was leaving him behind. Kashton has abandonment issues. But don’t we all? A Lord grows up in a family with more power than God, yet we’re literally alone. Kashton and Saint are the only people I can count on, and although I don’t remember how he found me practically dead, I know for a fact that I’d never leave them. Not willingly.
“That’s better,” Saint says happily, spinning the naked guy around to face him.
I give them my back and head up the elevator to my room. I’m not in the mood for that shit today. Coming up to the birdcage—the floor we all share—I scan my thumb for my room and enter, slamming it shut. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I look down at my wrist. You can’t see the scar because I have itcovered with ink. I know it’s there even though I can’t remember how I got it.
“HAIDYN?”
I hear my name shouted, but it seems to be far away.
“Haidyn! What the fuck did you do?” Again, with the annoying voice, but it sounds so familiar. “Come on, man.”
I just want to sleep. I’m so tired. All of a sudden, it feels like the world is shaking, or maybe it’s me.
“Goddammit, Haidyn. Why did you…” It sounds like they’re walking away, or maybe I’m finally falling asleep.
It doesn’t matter. Either way, I finally have peace and silence.
That foggy memoryof Kash finding me was years ago. It was after Ashtyn ran, and we finished our six months of “training.” The Lords thought they broke me, but I assure you, they didn’t. You can’t dish out punishment and not expect to receive it in return.
The professionals say the mind blocks traumatic experiences on purpose. I say it chooses to forget what isn’t important. Who knows which one is actually correct.
It doesn’t matter to me, just the Lords. They will take you out for betraying your oath, but if you want to take yourself out…that’s a different story. They don’t like you having any sort of control over your own life.
They own you.
You live for them, and you die for them.
As if I’d give them the satisfaction of killing myself. I’m just not that kind of Lord. I like making others suffer. And if that means staying alive, then I’ll do anything to make that happen.
Getting to my feet, I enter my adjoining bathroom. I yank my shirt up and over my head and toss it to the floor. Reaching down, I undo my jeans, but my eyes catch sight of myself in the mirror.
I look like shit. I have dark circles around my eyes, and I look like I haven’t slept in days. I haven’t, but that’s beside the point.
They want me to give my secrets to the pretty brunette. Want me to spill my insecurities and shortcomings so they can use them against me. That’s what the Lords do. They use anything they can against you. I won’t do it.
She’ll give up eventually. Probably quicker than the others have. She seemed innocent. A few comments about fucking her ass and making her cry will get her to run away.
If not, then I’ll up my game. I’m always up for a challenge.
TEN
ANNABELLE
Ilie in the darkly lit room with a towel over my eyes. The sound of the waterfall to my left is soothing. Today is mytake care of meday. Once every two weeks, I get a massage, facial, and an IV for rehydration therapy.
My mother suggested these to me when I showed up at our monthly brunch a couple of years back, looking like I had just closed down the club. I had. Although that’s not the point, she reminded me I needed to take care of myself. She set me up an appointment with her favorite salon and spa—I’ve been addicted ever since.
The IVs really do help you feel better. Like a new person. Plus, the man who digs his fingers deep into my muscles takes me to another level of ecstasy that no drug ever has.
My personal cell ringing has me removing the towel from my eyes. I dig it out of my purse, which sits on the small round table next to my chair, then hit answer. “Hello?”
“Hey, honey,” my mother says in greeting.
