Page 75 of Slaughter

“No.” The man sighs that I know had been introduced as Jensen. “I’ve been here for three hours and no sign of Damon.”

Who is Damon?

“Well, fuck!” Avery hisses. “So now what?”

“You can go if you want,” Jensen offers, and I bite my tongue not to scream yes, please. “You’ve made your appearance. I’ll stay and let you know what I hear.”

“No,” Avery clips, and my shoulders slump.

I shift from foot to foot, my feet and legs tired from the high heels. My back hurts from my arms being restrained, and I have that feeling between my legs that just won’t stop no matter how much I rub them together. And I’d kill for him to give me his scotch that he requested.

“You could fuck one of his slaves,” Jensen offers. “Maybe get some information from them. Or just make use of them.” He pauses.

My head snaps up so fast that I don’t even get the chance to think about my move. Anger making me think irrationally at the thought of Avery fucking someone else other than me.

He took me.

He’s supposed to please me.

But I don’t voice those words out loud. Because everything I wanted to say dies on my tongue when I look at the guy who was introduced as Jensen. I haven’t seen him in eleven years, but he looks the same. Just all grown up.

Only his name isn’t Jensen. It’s Tristan. And he’s Avery’s younger brother. He smiles at me. “Hello, Presleigh. Nice to see you again.”

I snort, unable to hold it back. How is this nice? I’m at a man’s house who obviously runs a sex trafficking ring with my hands bound behind my back, standing next to a man I used to love who kidnapped me but is pretending that he bought me.

“You sure have grown up.” His eyes fall to my tits.

My eyes narrow on him.

He laughs. “I think your slave is jealous, Avery.”

I take a step forward, about to knock his ass out when Avery yanks me back to his side by the back of my upper arm. His fingers digging into my skin.

“Don’t fucking call me that!” I snap. The people who stand around us gasp, but I ignore them.

“Jealous?” Tristan asks with a smile.

“Slave,” I hiss.

Before he can respond, a hand wraps around the front of my neck, and I’m shoved into the nearest wall. My head hits with a thud, and I hiss in a breath before it tightens around my throat. Avery stands in front of me, looking down at me with pure rage in his blue eyes. His fingers and the choker digging into my skin.

I try to wiggle free of his grip and use my hands to help me push away from the wall. I’m unsuccessful.

“What is going on here?” I hear the man’s voice from earlier, think his name was Conway, as he comes to stand next to Avery. He wears a cold smile, staring at my chest. I realize I lost my coat that was over my shoulders, and now I’m exposed to what my tight dress shows off. My nipples harden when I feel the cold breeze, and I hate that I couldn’t wear a bra with this dress.

“My slave forgot her place,” Avery growls, using that word and daring me to argue.

My eyes narrow on his.

The man laughs and pats Avery on the shoulder. “That’s the best part.” His voice drops. “When you get to remind her she belongs to you.”

I swallow roughly as his hand tightens. I press up to my tiptoes in my heels. “Take her downstairs. Teach her a lesson,” he says simply. “Come. I’ll show you the way.”

“No—” He cuts off my air before I can protest any longer. I beg Avery not to do it with my eyes, but he yanks me from the wall before wrapping his hand around my upper arm and walks me next to him as we follow the man.

I take a deep breath and catch Tristan winking at me as we walk by. I want to slap him.

I lower my head without being told like a dog in trouble as we’re led down a set of stairs and through a door that has locks on the outside.

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