He’d turned me into a conduit. A living battery.
The push and pull of power racing in and out made my head spin, and my knees quaked while the men passed me from one ruthless grip to the next.
They touched everything. Everywhere. Pinching my nipples while I squirmed and squealed, pulling my hair, squeezing my throat…
I choked on mingled saliva, suffocated on shared breath, and struggled while coarse fingers raked down my chest and cupped me through my pants. A swat on the ass made me jerk and nearly choke on the tongue thrusting between my teeth.
When I pushed too much, struggled in a way they found more annoying than amusing, one of them pulled off his necktie and looped it around my wrists. The knot cinched down, pinning my hands helplessly together. The cloth wrapped again as another knot was added, tight enough to pinch.
My cries were muffled, then overwhelmed by a communal rumble of laughter. I lost track of who was in front of me, beside me, behind me… of what was me or them and mine or theirs.
Maslow’s hand remained distinct, and itburned. It stayed as affixed as if he were inside me somehow. A plug in an outlet. A bulb in a socket. Stealing my light.
“What do we think, gentlemen?” Narcissus’s voice rose above the clamor. “Would our clients appreciate having something like this on the menu? The wraith has offered a supply of these creatures to adorn our high-roller rooms. Could be lap ornaments? Perhaps under the table service?”
As if on command, I was dropped or maybe driven to the ground, where I barely caught myself with my bound hands. It was all I could do to hold myself up, muscles weak and body wavering. No one was touching me now, but my skin pulsed with residual heat from Maslow’s palm.
I hated him.
For finding me. For bringing me here. For proving I could serve my purpose in any room, not just the one he built.
I hated what he’d made of me.
A sob clawed up my throat while the men cleared a path for the angel’s approach. With a vicious twist, Narcissus’s long fingers tangled in my hair.
The angel stooped overhead, more heavenly than he had any right to be with the wicked gleam in his eyes.
“Sit up, slut,” he said.
Tears ran freely while I struggled to obey. Kneeling before him, I thought again of Maslow’s hellish audition—the only one of my performances he’d ever cared about. Then I thought of Beck’s suite, where I’d willingly offered what was now being demanded.
The angel smiled, and he was still beautiful. Light gleamed off his gold-dusted wings and cast a halo on his hair as he gazed down at me. “I won’t taste your corruption, demon,” he said. “But perhapsyou’dlike to sample divinity. See if it scalds on the way down.” His lips twisted into something between a smile and a snarl as he commanded, “Open wide.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant to give me, but I wouldn’t take it. I wouldn’t say yes despite Maslow’s instructions, wouldn’t submit to another cruel master. But I was too unsteady to stand and too depleted to give a more adamantdenial, so I simply held the angel’s gaze, leaking tears with my lips pinned shut.
Narcissus sneered, then spat, and a ball of warm saliva struck my cheek.
I flinched back with a gasp and raised my hands to wipe it away, but the angel caught my wrist beneath the tie.
“Wear it,” he snapped, then shoved my arms away. “It’s the closest you’ll ever come to an anointing.”
Rumbling peals of laughter shook the room. Or maybe that was me, quivering and clenching empty hands while my tears tracked through Narcissus’s spit.
“Crawl over here, demon. I’ll anoint you with something else,” someone said with a chortle.
I flicked a panicked glance at Maslow.
He wouldn’t stop this—hadn’t yet. So why did I look at him?
Searching for anyone else to intervene was in vain, though there was at least one dissenter. The younger angel, Narcissus’s spiky-haired brother, hung back. When I spotted him, he buried his nose in his cocktail, though there was barely a drop of liquor in the glass.
Then the doors opened.
The room was already chilly, but at that, it froze. It felt like a piece of that ice slipped between my ribs, angled toward my fluttering heart. The men turned in unison, and I remembered they had been waiting for someone.
The newcomer wasn’t like the others. He was an angel, outfitted with a pair of wings that dragged the floor as he approached, but he wasn’t beautiful the way Narcissus and his brother were. He was… regal. Refined. His hair, more silver than gray, shimmered like liquid mercury. His dark suit was immaculate and pressed with sharp lines. He looked middle-aged, though something about him felt older. Immeasurably so.
When he turned my way, his features hardened. His voice was low and gravelly as he said, “Narcissus, we talked about this.”
