Page 18 of The Devils' Darling

“You said you were going to kill me,” I say under my breath. “I heard you.”

He shakes his head. “No, Duchess. You know I’d never hurt you. I only said it to make sure he didn’t touch you.”

I sniff and hiccup. “How do I know that?”

He takes hold of my chin. “Look at me. Look into my eyes. You know me. I love you. I’d kill myself before I harmed a single hair on your head. I should have protected you better. I should have seen this coming. I knew he was a fucking psychopath. I should have known he wouldn’t just take me telling him no as an answer. This is on me. I’m so sorry, Duchess. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He loves me.

Pale-Eyes cracks the gun against the side of the cage, and we both jump at the clang.

“Stop fucking talking. We want action.”

A tear slips down my cheek.

“Fuck you,” Kirill snaps. “I won’t do it. Not with you two watching.”

“You have no choice. Your father said so. We will watch. Make sure the job gets done.”

Rufus sneers. “She will spread her legs for us when you are finished—show us the cum dripping from her cunt.”

Kirill pulls me close. “Stay away from her, or I’ll kill you myself. I fucking swear it.”

They exchange a glance and laugh. They know his words are empty. What can he do? He’s locked inside this fucking cage, too. Kirill is as helpless as I am.

We have no choice but to give them what they want.

“Just do it, Kirill,” I say softly.

He jerks back. “What? No, not until they leave.”

“It’s only us. It’s only sex. We’ve done it countless times before. Nothing has changed. We’re still ourselves.”

“We have an audience,” he hisses.

The grinding of his teeth goes right down to my bones.

“Just imagine they’re Dom and Tino. It’s no different, not really.”

We both know it is, but if this is going to happen, we need to lie to ourselves.

Pale-Eyes has grown bored. He marches over to us and puts the gun to my head, the metal circle of the barrel jamming against my scalp. I take a sharp breath and close my eyes.

“Get that away from her,” Kirill growls. “Now.”

“Then fuck her, or should we get your father back down here? Let him take over?”

“It’s okay, Kirill,” I tell him. “I want you. I always want you.” I can’t let these men touch me, and I’ll die before I let Kirill’s father come near me with that thing between his legs. I can do this. It’s not as if I don’t always want Kirill.

I do.

The pressure of the barrel against my skull eases and then vanishes.

Kirill gives a throaty groan of desperation. “Not like this. I…fuck…I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” I encourage him. “Please. I need you.”

“Fuck, Kukla.”

---