“Tell me. Do you think about it? About me? About all the ways I’ve made you come? About how good I made you feel, even when you hated me for it?” His mouth curves. “Is that why you’re mad, kitten? Because you want me again and you hate yourself for it?”
My nails dig into my palms. “I don’t want you. All you’ve done is force yourself on me.”
“That’s what you like.” His breath skims the shell of my ear. “Being used. Being owned. That perfect little cunt taking everythingIgive it.”
I hate him. God, I hate him. And I hate myself more for the part of me that flinches when he steps closer, for the heat that curls low in my stomach even as my rage builds.
“We’re going out tonight.” His lips stay near my ear. “Found some intel we need to follow up on. I think you’ll really enjoy this place.”
“What?”
He ignores the question, eyes flicking to the closet and dresser. “There should be clothes in there. Put something on. You’ve got an hour,” he pauses, eyes trailing over me, “I prefer you like this—half-naked. But I’m not the only one here. So you’re going to cover up.”
He pulls his shirt over his head, muscles flexing, tattoos shifting with the movement. He tosses the black shirt onto the bed and walks out. I flip him off as the door clicks shut, then snatch the shirt off the bed and hurl it into the trash with the other one.
Bastard.
The dresser has a small, tight, black tank top. I pull it on, trying not to think about who it belonged to, just grateful it’s nothis. By the time I step into the hallway, the place is a storm of motion. Raze catches my eye as he checks his ammo.
“Where are we going?” He doesn’t answer. “Raze! Where the hell are we going?”
He finally looks up with a lazy grin. “Don’t worry, stray. You’ll love it.” He winks, slides his gun into his jacket, and whistles to the men around him. Priest steps into the room, towering over me, those ice-blue eyes landing on the low neckline of my tank.
“Come on. We’re leaving.”
After driving for what felt like an eternity, the armored truck finally slows. We stop at a massive, gray building on the edge of the city. I can see the neon signs from here, and I know exactly where we are.
I twist in my seat, staring at Priest.
“The Devil’s Playhouse? We’re going to a sex club?”
He ignores me, climbing out of the truck.
Roxy told me about this place once. She tried to work here but they turned her away.Too innocent, they said.Not the right kind of experience.I remember laughing, asking what that even meant. Now that the Sovereigns are here…I think I know.
I follow behind Wolff and Raze. Priest reaches the back door first, speaking low to a man in a suit. He passes over a stack of cash, and the man’s gaze lingers on me before he unlocks it.
“Don’t look so scared, stray,” Raze murmurs in my ear, his nearness making me flinch. “Your keeper already warned them not to touch you. Warnedeveryone. Shame. We usually share.”
We? Him and Priest. The thought hits hot and wrong, and for a heartbeat I picture it—what that could mean. Raze and Priest and?—
No. I shake my head, trying to dislodge the thought. “I would never let either of you fuck me.”
His breath ghosts my ear. “Pathetic stray, you don’tletus do anything. You’re not in charge. We are.”
My stomach tightens, but he’s already stepping past me, Wolff not far behind him. Priest says something to them before they walk inside and gives me a look that says ‘stay close’ as we walk to the end of a hallway and into a dimly lit club that’s nothing like the places I’ve been. Dark red couches. Deep black floors. A bar that stretches from one end of the room to the other. Women everywhere. On tables, in cages, hanging from the ceiling, their bodies on display as they sway to the music.
A woman wearing a collar crawls over to Priest, her eyes lowered, her hands on the floor. “Sir?” she asks. “May I please you?”
His gaze flickers to the leash in her hand, then to her mouth, before he glances at me. I’m sure my face says it all. Confusion. Anger. Disgust.
He says something too quiet to catch, and the woman shifts toward Raze instead. Raze grins, takes the leash, and leads her off without a backward glance.
Priest’s eyes find mine again. “Just think of all the things I could teach you, kitten. You’d make a beautiful pet.”
I roll my eyes. “In your dreams.”
My gaze darts to a man on one of the couches, pants shoved to his thighs, fist working his cock as a woman kneels between his legs. Her lips glide up and down, spit pooling at the corners of her mouth, his hips bucking with each thrust into her throat. He grunts, head thrown back, one hand tangled in her hair, the other gripping her throat as he forces her deeper. I look away.
