“I—am.” The words come out as a broken sob.
“I’ll be quick. I’ve nearly come at least a dozen times tonight.” He folds himself over my body and presses a kiss to my neck. “Just take a little bit more for me, Flame. I’m almost—” he pauses to grunt, “—there.”
His thrusts turn from languid to brutal in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t have thought I werecapableof coming again, but the steady, insistent pressure in my ass, combined with his cock slicing in and out of me, proves too much. It sends me over the edge,again.
“Fuuuuuuck,” Max groans. “Fuck. Me.” His thrusts become jerky, absent of any finesse and sensuality—his movements are driven purely by animal instinct, and I find that hotter than anything else he’s done tonight.
He buries himself deep inside me with a roar of victory, fingers digging into my flesh so hard I think they might draw blood.
By the time he releases me from the bondage, I’m already falling asleep.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ember
Past
Ember,18
Ithought I knew what fear was.
I thought I understood the darkness that exists in this world.
My short time with Dagon has proven me completely, wholly, and utterly wrong.
He’s beautiful on the outside. Surrounded by fineries so rich, so rare, that it’s hard to think of him as anything other than a god. But he’s not light, kind, or merciful. He’s dark, depraved, and cruel.
The moment he brought me to his home, I was confined to a room where I’ve remained the last several weeks. The room itself isn’t the issue—it’s beautiful and holds décor more expensive than my father’s debt to Dagon. It’s the way I’ve beenconfined to it.
Dagon tore off the necklace I’ve spent my life attached to, and replaced it with a much crueler chain. One I quickly discovered delivers a horrifyingly painful electric shock each time I try to leave my room.
He’s come to visit me every day, and each day, he watches me like I’m a specimen to be examined. When I say something that displeases him, I get a sharp, effective backhand across my face. When I stay too silent or don’t answer his mundane answers quick enough, sometimes the slap turns to a punch in my stomach.
Terror keeps me complacent and docile.
The realization that there is no way for me to escape his clutches makes me horribly, hopelessly depressed.
I’ve always liked to consider myself as a strong person, but in a matter of weeks, I’ve proved to be pathetically weak. I’mnotasstrong as I fancy myself to be. I’mnotcapable. I’mpatheticanduseless.
Today, he comes bearing a gift, which makes me even more wary of him than I usually am. The gift is an armful of files. When I hear the clasp to the door unlock, I sit up straighter and fold my suddenly-trembling hands into my lap.
Dagon offers me a deceptively charming smile as he steps in, nudging the door shut behind him. “How are you finding your accommodations?"
“Fine,” I say quickly. When his gaze narrows, I swiftly correct myself. “The room is beautiful, thank you.”
“That’s more like it.” He takes the papers to the dining table, where he dumps them all on the surface. He lifts one up, flipping it open and setting it back on the table. “I acquired you for a couple of reasons. First, you are very nice to look at. Second, you are incredibly smart, as evidenced by much of your testing in school. Now, I’d like to see if we can put your brain to good use.”
I blink. What in hell givesthis manthe impression that I’d be any sort of asset to him? He runs adrug empire,as I’ve learned. I know nothing of the criminal world, nothing that could enhance his operation.
“These are files of eight people who have fucked up in the last month,” he says. “I typically make a point of killing two-thirds of the people who disappoint me.”
I suck in a sharp breath at the not-so-subtle threat. If I disappoint him, I might very well be next.
Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad…
“What do you expect me to do with those?” I mumble.
“First, check your attitude. You're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. Tones have consequences here.” Dagon glares at me for a few moments. “Second, prove you have some usefulness to me. Go through the files. They’re the full histories and backgrounds of each individual, and their transgressions. Determine which ones deserve to live—”
