One of them chuckles. Then another joins in. “That’s it. Show her that right now she’s not even worthy of touching you.”
I refuse to acknowledge any of it, don’t even want to think about who is speaking and when, and definitely don’t have any desire to dwell on their words. My chest caves in, and I have to will myself to breathe.
“Maybe eventually she’ll realize her life would be easier if we plant a babe in her womb.”
I shudder, tears springing to the back of my eyes, and squeeze them shut to stem the flow. I will not cry. I won’t give them the satisfaction. But the longer this goes on, the harder it is to ignore the vulgarity spewing from the mouths of supposed adult men.
“Finn, if she thinks this is bad, we could definitely do worse.”
One of them—I’m guessing Finneas—snorts aloud. “That’s a fair statement. And we will if she can’t be reined in.” There’s a pause, and then he continues, only this time his comments are directed to me. “Little girl, we will tie that cunt to a bed, pump you full, and make you regret your choices for a full cycle of the moon.”
My face flames, and I drag in a breath, finally allowing my eyes to flicker open. What I see through my tears has me reeling. Hayze is on my right, stoic. His jaw is locked up so tight I’m surprised it hasn’t shattered, and his tatted-up hand is brutally working his cock at a near frantic pace. Anguish slashes across his features, and my brow furrows. It’s unsettling, and I close myself off to the disconcerting intensity he’s radiating. I don’t care. I don’t want to know what he’s thinking.
Opposite him, Arrow’s cheeks have picked up a ruddy, deep-pink hue. With every shuttle of his hand over his erection, a muscle at the back of his jaw twitches. Is he recalling what went on between us earlier in the cell? He seems caught between two reactions to this train wreck he’s participating in—shame but also his own brand of obsessive desire.
At a low, pained moan, I glance over my shoulder to find Malakai’s dark stare pinned on my ass. His teeth are clenched, and when he realizes I’m watching him, his breath ejects from his lungs in fits and starts. My eyes flick downward, and his hand stutterson his dick. Is he remembering what he did to me in this room?
Finally, I peek at Cross, only to find his glittering eyes are filled with a steel that bores into mine. It betrays not even a hint that he cares about what he’s doing. In fact, his face is carefully blank. And yet, he strokes himself harder than any of the others, each pass of his fist, a punishment all of its own.
The longer this depravity goes on, the more jagged every one of their breaths becomes and the jerkier the movements of their hands as they fist their cocks. It’s as if they’re in a race to see who will come first. My throat goes dry as the symphony of rough grunts and lusty moans reaches a fever pitch. Disbelief crashes through my system.
Behind me, Malakai makes a choked sound, and a glance over my shoulder reveals his face going slack. His lips part as he throws his head back.
Oh my god.
Warm cum hits my lower back and ass, one spurt after another. After that, I close my eyes, trying to take myself anywhere but here. It doesn’t work. A shuddering breath escapes me, and my body goes rigid. Frozen in place on the floor, I wait. One after another, they unload on me.
I curl my arms around my middle, trembling now, unable to wrap my head around this act of degradation. Once the groaned shouts of pleasure and ragged breaths finally subside, I’m left there in thecenter of the floor. The silence is getting to me, but I’m afraid to open my eyes because I’ll find out it’s not over.
Was this worse than blowing Cross might have been? I don’t know. I can’t decide. This is a ploy to prove that I have no worth to them if I won’t comply.
Working through those thoughts, I’m struck by the realization that the subtle tremor I was racked with earlier has graduated to a full-on shake. Cum drips down my body. It’s on my stomach, my breasts, my ass, even some on my neck, and a bit on my cheek and chin. I let loose an unsteady exhale, force myself to listen to what’s happening around me.
I think all of them are still in the room—all eight men—but their whispered conversation is too low for me to hear what’s being said. Even so, the tone of their voices reveals there’s some sort of disagreement among them. Canting my head ever so slightly to the side, I steal a peek at them from under my lashes. Panic begins to rise. Is it over? I don’t have any fucking idea. The demons that lie in my past have made it so that the unexpected—the unknown—terrifies me far worse than anything else ever could.
TEN
HAYZE
“Can you handle her?”My father peers at me from under slanted brows.
I nod. “Of course I can.” But what they’re asking me to do…Fuck.It sets turmoil spinning through my very being, way down deep. This woman has put thoughts in my head that have never resided there before. If the Collective were aware?—
My eyes crash shut for a second due to the tormented and divisive nature of my thoughts. I run a hand over my scalp, raking my fingers harshly through the strands of hair. I can’t allow anyone to pick up on my angst. Moving quickly, I go to the old wood chest at the side of the room where certain implements are stored. I raise the lid. Stare down. And regret everything. Letting out the steadiest exhale I can manage, I grasp the cold steel in my hand and pivot to face the room.
My eyes flick to Delilah’s. I dread what I’ll see inthe depths of her stunning blue eyes. Hatred. Betrayal. And a thousand other things that I shouldn’t care about. But Ido.Because if I look deep within my fractured thoughts, something tells me she has a—I hesitate, the concept unfamiliar—she has arightto feel as she does about us. It’s fucking crazy. Never once had it occurred to me we could be…in the wrong. Not before her.
She has a certain strength about her, a truth that shines from her anytime her eyes lock on mine—something that screams at me to pay attention, to question things rather than simply accept them as I’ve always done. When I’m near her, I feel every ounce of her emotion just as surely as it were my own. Fuck. I’m in so much trouble. Wetting my lips, I stop to await further instructions from the Collective. This is a similar collar to the one Cross and I used to tame Twenty-Three—that’s all she was to us then—the day I was forced to claim her. She hated it that day, but it’ll be worse now. My gut twists uncomfortably. In all fairness, the fucking collar is the least of my worries right now.
From the corner of my eye, I study this girl, the one I know to be as fierce as the storm she’d arrived during. Currently, though, she’s withdrawn into herself and gives the appearance of shoring herself up for whatever happens next. It’s good that she does so. Because this isn’t fucking over. Not nearly.
My father’s lip curls wickedly. His gaze roams over her in a way that makes me want to do him damage. “Collar her. Then we’ll”—he gestures to the other members of the Collective with a lecherous wink—“proceed. After that, you can remove her. Understood?”
I nod, motioning to Cross that he should come with me. Together, we help Delilah to stand on unsteady legs. My eyes roam over her, coated in our cum. I work a hard swallow and trace the path our seed takes as her body heat makes it run, leaving slick trails along her skin. In our hold, she trembles.
I don’t dare say a word to her. Nothing I could possibly say in front of the Collective would matter. For her sake, it’s better if I keep silent. None of that stops me from trying to catch her eye, though, wanting to explain myself as best I can without speaking. Her lips quiver, and like a thief in the night, she wrenches her gaze from mine. She isn’t having any of it.
Cross’s expression is absolutely unreadable, but after a swift exhale, he nods. I’d love to know what he was thinking earlier, taking it upon himself to alter the course of this correction. If he hadn’t, I doubt the Collective would have done anything more.
