Page 42 of Coal Hearts

Ily turned into a statue, her midnight hair kissing her bare shoulders. “How...how many girls have you taken?”

“You know what? I seem to have lost count.” Victor grinned. “Boys too. We don’t discriminate. We’re an inclusive society, aren’t we, Roland?”

“Very inclusive.” Roland finished his pancakes and licked his lips. “And don’t worry, once Henri has broken you in, we’ll all have some fun. Diversity is key, after all.”

Ily shifted as if she was moments away from launching across the aisle and stabbing Roland with his syrup-sticky fork.

She’d struggled when I’d first shoved her onto the aircraft but wisely stopped when one of Victor’s guards pressed a gun against her temple and raised his eyebrow.

“He’ll pull the trigger, my pet,” Victor had drawled as he’d climbed into the cabin behind us. “I don’t tolerate uncontrolled crying, fighting, or begging. You can sit quietly and behave, or you can die and have your body dumped at sea.”

Ily had complied, but it seemed as though she needed another reminder.

I clamped a hand over hers on the armrest.

She sucked in a breath as her eyes whipped to mine.

My skin stung where I touched her and every part of me screamed to stop. To rip my hand away so I didn’t suffer the infectious heat prickling between us, even now.

Her overbright gold-hazel eyes trapped me into my chair, and I had the awful sensation that she saw straight through me. Saw the deal I’d made with my stranger-of-a-brother. The cracking of my resolve. The blackness I could never quite tame, no matter how hard I tried.

“Don’t touch me.” She yanked her fingers from under mine. “Ever.”

I sighed heavily, clenching my fist as residual tingles stung. “You and I both know that’s not going to happen.”

My gaze dropped to her mouth and my mind exploded with images of her cuffed on the table. I’d never been so hard in my life. Never been so close to throwing every moral out the shattered fucking window and sinking inside her with no control.

I was grateful we’d been interrupted.

Thankful for the time it’d taken to drive to Charles De Gaulle in a black limousine.

Ily had fought.

She’d screamed.

It hadn’t made a damn bit of difference.

She’d cowered against the side of the limo, glowering at all of us, her golden eyes darting from Roland as he poured some champagne to Victor who typed on his phone.

By the time we pulled up to the private airstrip, she trembled with terror, and I shook with desperation.

Sucking in a breath, tasting her floral citrusy perfume on my tongue, I fingered my birdcage cufflinks. Was the GPS location working? Could Q see my little red dot blinking with sin as I sat in a plane ready to fly into hell? Surely, he’d dealt with other traffickers who had technology like Victor’s and knew how to get around it?

Victor never took his eyes off me as the engines started with a powerful purr.

Ily flinched, a soft whimper under her breath.

“You know, Henri...I was once like you,” Victor said softly as the plane shuddered and rolled into motion. He tapped his chest, his face full of commiseration. “I always knew I was different. Always knew I was destined for greater things. I might’ve been born into a middle-class family and taught to get a menial job where I would be turned into a slave for a tyrannical government, but I didn’t accept that. I didn’t allow myself to be bled dry by taxes and robbed of life’s great pleasures. If I had, I would’ve eventually gotten sick and died, just like everyone else.” He shuddered as if his tragic ‘could-haves’ truly terrified him. “Life would’ve been meaningless, pointless, devoid of happiness and...fun.”

“Rape isn’t fun, you asshole,” Ily snapped. “It’s criminal. You deserve to be in a cage.”

“Deserve? Oh, most likely.” Victor nodded. “Will it ever happen? Of course not. Thanks to following my purpose, I am now immune to society’s laws.” He leaned across the aisle, his dark blue eyes glinting. “I rule my world, girl, and I cannot wait to show you how you will serve in it.”

Before Ily could spit at him or invoke the Master Jeweler’s wrath, I planted my hand on her thigh.

She immediately shoved my wrist, growling like a feral tabby. “I said, don’t touch me.”

“And I said, don’t fight.” I dug my fingers into her firm quad. The strength bristling beneath her skirt surprised me.