"The thing is, Matilda." His hand squeezed her shoulder, hard enough to hurt. "You don't get to decide what you're here for. We all follow orders here, and who you need to obey depends on where you are in the hierarchy. You, my dear Matilda, are at the very bottom, which means that any one of us can do what we please with you. Knowing your place is important."
This was getting worse by the minute, and she didn't know how to turn this train wreck around.
"I know my place," she murmured.
"Do you?" He gripped her chin with his fingers and turned her face toward him. "Because from where I'm sitting, it doesn't look that way. The only thing we should be hearing from you is 'yes, sir.' Not excuses."
The only thing she could do right now was to agree with everything he said. Any attempt at evading his advances would probably be met with violence.
"You are right, sir. I'm sorry, sir."
"That's better." He let go of her chin. "Walking around with that stuck-up expression is not going to serve you well here. Somehow, you managed to avoid the brothel and think that you are better than the other girls who serve there."
"I don't think that." She tried to pull up her pant leg. "I'm damaged. That's why I was sent to work in the bar."
His bushy eyebrows shot up. "Damaged?"
"I can show you." She pulled up the pant leg, revealing the scar tissue it was hiding.
He winced but then smiled. "There are a lot of things I can do to you without having to look at that damaged flesh." He gripped her face, his thumb on one cheek and his finger on the other. "A lot of things you could do with those pouty lips of yours."
Mattie's eyes watered from the pressure, but she refused to cry out. That would only encourage him.
"I don't know what you mean," she managed.
Bushy Eyebrows' eyes narrowed. "Are you mocking me?"
"No, sir. I genuinely don't know…"
"Shut up." He released her cheeks to grip the back of her neck, his fingers wrapping around the slender column like a collar. "You talk too much."
The other immortals had gone quiet, watching the exchange with predatory interest. Even Yoden had stopped staring at her chest long enough to pay attention to the escalating confrontation.
"Tarik," one of them said. "Maybe ease up. She's just a dumb girl that doesn't know what a dick looks like."
Tarik. So that was Bushy Eyebrows' name.
His grip on her neck tightened. "Then perhaps it's time to acquaint her with mine."
Panic seized Mattie. Was he going to force her right there and then in front of his friends? Were they going to follow his example?
"Please." The word came out smaller than Mattie intended. "I don't want any trouble."
"Then you shouldn't have been born with that face and that attitude." Tarik pulled her closer, until their noses were almost touching. "Pretty girls with bad attitudes are born to be in trouble."
From the corner of her eye, Mattie could see Anil behind the bar. He'd stopped pretending to polish glasses and was standing frozen, one hand on the counter, his face gray with fear. He wanted to help, she could see it in his eyes, but he was just as helpless as she was.
There was no one coming to save her.
"Please," she pleaded, hating having to beg and knowing it wouldn't save her. "Just tell me what you want me to do."
Tarik's smile was slow and cruel. "That's better. See how easy it is when you cooperate?"
He released her neck, and she slumped in her chair, dizzy with relief. Maybe that was it. Maybe she'd humiliated herself enough to satisfy him, and he'd let her go.
"Stand up," he said.
Or maybe not.
