Page 7 of Savage Desires

She's sitting on her mattress, watching me. She's worried about something, and it's not just my condition. Georgie is only a few years older than me but seems so much older. I suppose spending twelve years in this life will do that to a person. The older you get, the more you worry about your expiration date. No one wants an old sex slave. The best we can hope for is dying young or becoming useful in some other way.

Georgie helps take care of the girls here at Mecca. She also helps with the new girls and makes sure we're dressed appropriately for whatever job they're using us for. I can't be mad at her for that, though. She's just trying to survive like the rest of us, and being useful is how she's going to do it.

"What's wrong?" I finally ask.

She closes her eyes and sighs. When she opens her eyes, they are filled with pain, and I know that whatever she says isn't going to be good.

"There's an event in a couple days. A big one."

"Okay…" I say slowly. There's always some kind of event, so I'm unsure why this one's upsetting her.

"It's an auction."

It takes me a few seconds for that information to sink in. They are selling girls and not just for one night. It's not the first one they've hosted since I was brought here. They like to rotate the girls here at Mecca. Especially the ones that break too easily. They have no remorse when it comes to ending our lives, but money talks in this business. Auctioning us off gives them more of it, and they don't have to deal with disposing of our bodies. I still don't really understand why this is upsetting her.

"That's not unusual…"

"This is different. Worse than normal," she says, her voice shaky.

"What's worse than selling us to the highest bidder and shipping us off to God knows where?"

"Selling us to the highest bidder and getting rid of our bodies when they are done with us," she whispers.

My eyes widen as I process what she just said.

"Why would they do that? Why would anyone spend that much money on a sex slave just to kill them immediately?"

"The kind of men that can't keep a slave but want to destroy one beyond what Mecca allows."

"How did you hear about this?"

"I was cleaning and overheard Madame talking to the masked man. You know how they pretend I don't exist while I'm in the room…"

The masked man is our true owner. Madame runs Mecca's seedy underbelly, but the man in the mask owns it all. The only thing I know about him is that he wears expensive suits over his muscular frame and has dark hair. I have no idea what he looks like because he never shows his face. The only other notable thing about him is his thick Russian accent. I would know his cold voice anywhere, though. Chills run down my spine at the memory of it. I push those thoughts away. No good will come from dwelling on the past when I apparently have a fresh hell to worry about.

"When is the auction?"

"Two days from now… Saturday night."

"Do you know who they are auctioning?" I ask even though it's the last thing I want to know.

"Stacia, Tabitha, Lucy, Reghan…" She trails off, her eyes focused on the floor between us. A single tear slides down her face. "You."

I suck in a breath. I knew the moment she mentioned the auction, I would be in it. After what happened with my last client, I became a liability. I'm sure Todd demanded compensation for having his scene interrupted. Not that it was my fault. I couldn't have prevented Kisten from intervening.

As fucked up as it is, I'm just happy that one of my last moments in this place was with someone who tried to help me. I spent five days in the dark because of what Kisten did, but I spent those five days drowning in the memory of his dark eyes and the gentle way he held me. I always knew I would die in captivity. Now that I know my days are numbered, I'm filled with a sense of peace.

I'm not giving up. It's not my body failing or my mind breaking apart. They are going to kill me. I have no doubt it'll be a painful death. One I'll be begging for in the end if they have their way, but it won't be because I gave up. I should be more upset than I am. Logically, I should be freaking out. Instead, I'm just resigned to my fate.

"You're safe?" I ask.

Georgie nods, another tear falling.

"Good. That's good."

I scoot over on my mattress and pat the spot I just freed. Georgie hesitates for a moment before moving to my side. She lays beside me, and I pull her into a hug. She loses the fight with her emotions and weeps. I can't imagine how hard carrying the burden of this knowledge is. I know she wouldn't have told the others. It would be dangerous. If Madame found out she had overheard and warned the others, Georgie would be punished.

"This is where I tell you it'll all be okay, and you pretend to believe me," I murmur, stroking her hair.

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