***
It turned out that The Playground was a multilevel penthouse full of fucking torture. There were holding cells, BDSM rooms, and gods knew what else. They only made it halfway before one of the bastards shoved a ball gag in her mouth and locked it tight. Apparently, her screams were upsetting the patrons.
My fucking bad for being taken against my will.
They threw her onto a black velvet chaise in a cushy office and bounced like they couldn’t stand to be in her presence a moment longer. She tried to yell ‘untie me you fucking dirtbags,’ but all that came out were muffled screams. After the door clicked shut, Nyx pressed her forehead against the chair and took a moment to gather herself. She was scrappy and never met a situation she couldn’t slink out of, however the current predicament was probably the worst.
There was too much at stake to be killed or sold. Getting back to Avyssos was the priority. Nyx spent some time tinkering with her restraints while considering options of attack. The man was too good at pitting her body and emotions against her, and Nyx was too fast to fall victim.
She stood and walked to the sleek black desk situated in front of floor to ceiling bookshelves as she decided that fire and sarcasm was her best shot at leaving alive. If he moved her toauction, maybe she could slip free in transit. The man was a psycho. Nyx didn’t want to give him any reason to get bored and kill her.
Nyx thought to rifle through the drawers, but no surprise, they were all locked. Probably for the best since her hands were bound. Besides, any place with an essence scanner on all of the doors had zero hope for a thief trying to escape the penthouse office.
She took a moment to study her surroundings as she calculated her next move. The office was modern chic and fifty shades of black. Not a single drop of color painted the space other than her hot pink wig.
It definitely belonged to a douchebag.
She would bet her last human chocolate bar that the bedroom belonging to the owner of this office had black satin sheets, gray marble flooring, and zero pictures on the wall.
Fucking. Boring.
She hopped up on the desk, which was no easy feat, and faced the bookshelves. If she were to be trapped, she was going to learn everything possible about the owner of the room. If she was lucky, there would be something to help her escape or, at the very least, outmaneuver him.
Her mind conjured the devilish face without permission and she used it to stoke the flames in her blood. Not only would she make it home, she decided, but Nyx would come back to Club Hel and rob him blind. What better way to form a plan than to understand the piece of shit in charge. In true douchebag fashion, however, none of the books on the shelves were real. They were all the same shapes and sizes with black spines and no lettering.
Fucking typical.
A door clicked shut and Nyx whirled. She wasn’t surprised when the asshole with no respect for personal space saunteredthrough the door. He was even scarier in a well-lit room. The tattoos stood stark against his pale skin and the flickering of his face was even more prevalent. He watched her, and she eyed him right back.
Let the game begin.
Nyx was used to being underestimated and smart enough to use it to her advantage. He circled the room, each step bringing him closer to the desk she still perched on. The air was taut as if the steps he took reduced the size of the space. Men made her alarm bells sound in general, but there was something about this one that paralyzed her. It was almost as if her body knew that running would only make him chase her.
He was a man who liked the hunt, and she was determined to never be his prey.
The man made of nightmares stopped just short of the desk and they stared intently at each other. She was afraid to breathe. Terrified to blink. But she never backed down. She was a survivor, and survivors couldn't afford to flinch. She didn’t let self-righteous bullies push her around and damn sure wouldn’t start with this one
In a move so swift she couldn’t track it, he closed the distance and put himself in between her thighs. He towered over her, pulling the air from her lungs as he dominated the space between them. She knew it was purposeful. It was a power move. He wanted to get in her head. Make her cower.
“You look like a sweet dream, sitting pretty on my desk.” His voice was low and seductive as he lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, “But I bet you’d be a beautiful nightmare bent over it.”
Her labored breathing through the gag was harsh in the silence and when he lifted a hand to trace a pink strand of her wig, she almost quit breathing entirely.
She froze and flamed all at once, the fire and ice fighting for dominance. Was she scared or turned on? The momentary lapse in attention cost Nyx more space as he reached around her. She expected him to pull the wig off, but instead his hand settled on the clasp at the back of her head. He released the gag and tossed it aside. The gesture caught her off guard, and the smirk dimpling his cheek said he knew it.
“Do you always look like that?” she blurted, surprising even herself. Her jaw ached from the gag but it wasn’t going to deter her questions. Questions, much to her chagrin, that popped up out of nowhere. Like he wasn’t a dangerous daemon ready to feed her to his hellhounds or sell her off to the highest bidder.
“What do I look like to you?”
Nyx’s tongue snaked out to wet her lips, her mouth suddenly too dry to speak. Her cheeks heated as she watched him follow each swipe of her tongue.
“A nightmare,” she whispered.
His smile was wicked as it stretched slowly across his face.
He reached to unbutton his black shirt and Nyx’s greedy eyes followed every motion. Fine muscles flexed with each maneuver as the tattoos stretched over his skin. His hands were deft and handled each button with ease. “What am I going to do with you, kitten?” His tone was more of a reprimand than a question.
“Maybe let me go?” she quipped, but it lacked fire. No, the fire in her spirit was burning somewhere much lower as one… two buttons were freed.
