Page 58 of Coal Hearts

Victor merely shrugged. “No matter. I’ll look it up later.” Cocking his head at Henri, he ordered, “Her hair. Now.”

Dropping the empty box into the grass, Henri came close.

His presence sent my heart hurtling against my ribs, trapping me in a triangle of men. Avoiding my eyes, Henri reached around my neck, undid my necklace, gave it to Victor to add to his pilfered collection, then gathered my thick black hair in his fist.

I hated that his touch invoked stinging threads of awareness.

I hated that my breath quickened around him.

I hated that his energy was so thick, so potent it reached out to stroke mine. He pulsed with power. An invisible power that sucked up my meagre existence, stealing my lifeforce, knotting me to him against my will.

I trembled as Victor stepped even closer, sandwiching me against Roland whose breathing accelerated as I leaned back into him, trying to get away, all while knowing it was pointless.

With my chest aching and heart breaking, Victor snapped the collar around my throat.

The moment the heavy gold metal rested on my collarbones and the lock made the softest snicking sound, my knees buckled.

Roland chuckled as he held me up.

Henri muttered a slur.

And Victor merely said, “Welcome to Joyero, Ily. You may keep your name for as long as you wear my collar. You will learn to love it, as all my jewels do. You will lean into its protection and live within its bounds. You will be cared for and indulged, but heed my warning, my sweetling. Don’t try to take the collar off. Don’t do what others have done and fight your new role. Your past life is dead. You are nothing more than mine.”

Kissing me on the cheek, he linked his hand in mine and tugged me toward the drawbridge. “For now though, let’s go show you your new home.”

Chapter Nine

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Henri

––––––––

THAT KISS.

What the fuck was that?

My mouth still stung. My tongue still burned. My entire body throbbed to finish what I’d started: to give in to the delicious, disastrous freedom of kissing her with my whole self and not just bits and pieces.

I’d let the chase corrupt me.

Let violence pour through me.

And when she’d gone pliant beneath me?

Jesus Christ.

Her submission did things to me I’d never felt before.

For one rapturous second, when her moans held pleasure as well as panic, I’d snapped. I’d given in. I’d embraced my true power because in that unfettered truth, I had immunity.

Immunity to be the bastard.

Impunity to be who I was born to be.

But now, I was in pain.

Motherfucking wicked agony, and as much as I wanted to pretend otherwise, another pain bloomed beneath the lifelong festering wound of loneliness and struggle.