“Hello?” she called, her words echoing from the across the hallway just as they came out of the small screen in front of me. “I’m not afraid of you.”
My smile grew wider. “You should be, darlin’.”
There was something about seeing a woman like this—tied up, captive and completely at my mercy—that was beautiful. Her pale skin being rubbed by the metal of the cuffs around her wrist making it red and tender, her hair in disarray around her face as she took in her surroundings. I could only imagine how fast her heart was beating right then. I dragged a hand over the short stubble on my chin as I watched her, listening to her calls from the other room.
I pulled out a joint and lit it, enjoying the heady feeling that hit me as I took in a lungful of smoke. I lay back on my bed and watched her thrash around in frustration, the rattle of the metal cuff on the frame and her calls getting louder as she panicked more and more.
I relaxed back into my pillow with my arms behind my head. The more she panicked, the bigger my smile became. The sounds of her angry yelling were like a fucking serenade to me, soothing my soul like a cooling balm. It was sick, I knew deep down it was, but I’d learned a long time ago to accept these things about myself.
I drifted off to sleep feeling calmer than I’d been in a damn long time.
“Scream, princess, scream for me,” I mumbled as sleep sucked me under.
If music be the food of love, then her screams were going to be the backdrop to our dark romance.
~ 4 ~
Penny
My head pounded painfully, my brain throbbing with every pulse of my heart. I grimaced and groaned, reaching up to touch my head, startling myself at the sound of metal on metal as the cuffs wrapped around each of my wrists clanged loudly on the metal headboard again.
Shit.
This wasn’t good.
It wasn’t good at all.
I opened my eyes, wincing as the bright sunshine glared in at me. I attempted to look around, seeing the unfamiliar surroundings of a bedroom and wondering where the hell I was.
“Hello?” I called out, my voice sounding croaky from thirst and a full night of screaming. “Hello?”
Most girls would have kept quiet—a lame, simpering wreck, waiting for their prince to come and rescue them—but I knew the truth: there were no princes, no kings, and no knights in shining armor coming to save you. If you wanted saving, you saved yourself.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway outside the door sounded out and I shoved backwards and tried to sit up but the stupid cuffs bit into my skin, making me hiss in pain.
“I’m not afraid of you!” I called when the shadow under the bedroom door stilled. “Do what you want, but my daddy won’t pay.”
It was true.
I may have been my daddy’s little girl, but he didn’t bow down to anyone, for anything. Not even for his only daughter. He was Razuuk Benite, one of the biggest arms dealers this side of Atlanta. He didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything, unless it could line his pockets.
I dropped my head back down to the pillow and closed my eyes. I was exhausted, thirsty, and everything ached. But I was Penny Benite, and my father’s demon blood ran through my veins, which meant that I wouldn’t give up, not until my last dying breath, and even then I’d be fighting against the dying of the light, screaming murder and pain on those that had brought me to that point.
“Oh for God’s sake,” I yelled, my voice cracking on my words as I rattled my chains like an animal in a zoo. “At least bring me some water!”
I looked up sharply at the sound of floorboards creaking, watching as the doorknob turned and the door slowly pushed inward. I craned my head, both terrified and eager to see who was there. Who was stupid enough to go up against my daddy and think that they would live to tell the tale. Because whoever it was was a dead man.
Standing in the space beyond was a demon.
Cold, dark eyes, sharp features that looked like they were chiseled from marble, and wide, muscular shoulders that filled the doorway. He cracked his knuckles and cocked his head to one side, like an animal assessing its prey. He wore a mask over the bottom part of his face to hide his identity—a black piece of material—but it didn’t matter. I would never forget his eyes.
They reminded me of death.
Cold and empty. Devoid of anything good.
I swallowed hard, my heart pummeling against my ribs like it was trying to escape.
He hadn’t said anything, and as the moments passed by, fear spiraled inside me, worry bubbling in my gut like spoiled milk. I wasn’t the sort of woman to scare easily; I’d seen too much too young to be scared of things that went bump in the night, or things hiding in the dark. But this man, this monster, he scared me.
