Mac laughed, sipping from his own drink before returning it to the small table. “So, you’re telling me for one-hundred I can enter a fighter into these games? Why exactly should I spend that sort of money when I can just spectate and bet like before?”
“Because the games are different, more difficult. We expect our sponsors to enter only the strongest warriors who will really make a show.” Augustine raised a brow, his spare hand brushing down over her collarbone until it rested on the top curve of her breast. “And the winning sponsor gets ten million cash, plus free entry to the following games.”
Mac wheezed out a breath as his eyes tracked Augustine’s fingers. “Ten mil?”
Augustine’s hand moved down, drifting over her stomach and then lower until it met her thigh, his fingers digging in hard enough she couldn’t stop her cry. She was stronger now, able to withstand more damage, but she still felt her flesh give way to the pressure. Eva kicked out, forcing him away before he slapped her across the face. The sting was sharp, her own blood vile on her tongue.
Mac didn’t even flinch as he continued the conversation, as if violence was a daily occurrence. “You having auctions like last time?” His heated eyes prickled her exposed skin. “You know how I like them broken afterwards.”
It was Augustine who laughed this time, the sound seemingly forced. He pulled her across his lap, his breath foul against her face as he settled his empty glass on the table. “Mac likes to purchase the fighters when they lose,” he explained to her, the wound on her leg already beginning to knit back together, the surrounding skin slick with red. “He likes to fuck them while they’re ruined,” he continued, ignoring her struggle. “He was one of my biggest customers until we took a break.”
“You were shut down by The Council,” Mac said, his voice deepening as his attention remained on Eva. “Caused a huge fucking ripple amongst the undercity.”
“The Pits have been refurbished with the highest of security.” Dutch chuckled, reaching for the decanter and an empty crystal glass. “Our new partner has assured us The Council will not be a problem.”
Augustine tensed for the briefest of seconds. “Don’t worry Mac, the Pits will always be the Pits and that includes the auctions. We just wanted something special, something unique for the grand re-opening. Something for even the darkest of tastes.”
“Hmmm.” Mac leaned forward, mouth twisted into a smirk. “And what does this pretty thing think of these new games?”
“My fledgling doesn’t speak,” Augustine said before she could respond. “Not unless I give her permission.”
Dutch laughed, his eyes sparkling with challenge. “Or unless she wants to be punished.”
Mac cocked his head. “Is she registered with The Elder? Or can I buy her from you?”
Eva froze beneath his scrutiny, Augustine pulling her tighter against his chest. “My fledgling’s not for sale.”
“That didn’t answer the question.” Mac’s smile was sleazy. “She’s young, not strong enough to be classed as her own master and if she isn’t registered, I’m entitled to make a bid for her.”
“She’s been officially registered with The Elder, don’t worry, my friend.” Augustine’s smile wasn’t friendly. “Which means she’s mine, and must do everything I say as her master.” Augustine dropped her onto the carpet, her arms landing on the table in the centre with a thwack. “Get on your knees.” His hand moved to the fly of his trousers.
“Come near me and I’ll bite it off,” she growled in return.
His hand was suddenly wrapped in her hair, yanking her forward while Mac laughed hysterically at her back. Augustine’s fangs pierced into her skin, lower than she expected, at the hollow where her throat met her shoulder. It was painful, not even his venom easing the shooting pains as he sucked hard enough to mark. She pushed at him, his grip tightening before he pulled back slightly, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.
“Scream more, It’s how Mac likes it,” he whispered, his breath a foul caress. The hold on her hair squeezed, his free hand cupping her jaw as he turned her to face him. His kiss hurt, her head immobilised as he swept his tongue against her closed lips, trying to enter, pushing and nipping with his teeth. With a cry of frustration she opened, only to immediately bite down.
The next hit darkened her vision, her arm bent, but not broken beneath her as she fell. Dutch grinned at the wooden table which had splintered into pieces, glass shattering as alcohol splashed across her skin.
Eva coughed, her chest tight. “Touch me again, and I’ll kill you,” she managed a whisper.
Augustine stood, and Eva couldn’t stop the flinch. “Bend over.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, dread settling in the pit of her stomach. If he touched her again, she would fight until there wasn’t any breath left in her lungs.
“Your struggle makes it so much more fun,” Augustine said from only inches away, pushing her onto all fours. “It makes it even more amazing when you finally submit yourself to me.” A finger brushed against her spine, gentle, a caress as he pushed her dress up over her hips. She almost puked.
“Fuck you.” She opened her eyes to slits, reaching forward and curling her hand around a chunk of sharp wood, hiding it beneath her arm.
“A woman shouldn’t curse.” The finger drifted lower, dipping beneath her underwear.
Her arm tensed, the wood splintered as she swung, aiming for the man who kept her imprisoned. A movement at the corner of her eye, her body instinctively twisting towards the bigger threat as Dutch tackled her to the ground. She landed with a grunt, the sharp tip of the stake slicing across his cheek before it was yanked forcefully from her grasp.
A single second passed, long enough to realise she had seen Dutch move, his actions no longer a blur. Eva’s excitement was short lived when she noticed Augustine’s expression.
Shit.
“Dutch, I think you should keep her outside until the meeting is over,” he said with an eerie calmness as he took a seat once more. “I won’t be long.”
