Page 154 of The Harbinger

My shoulders tensed, and my chest seized as I pulled deep breaths in through my nose, his fingers moving far back into my throat despite my gagging protests.

I shuddered and flexed, moving in all different positions to escape his probing fingers—the fear of vomiting on him all too real.

He withdrew, and I exhaled a hacking cough, but a sharp tingle between my legs and deep in my belly had my brows pulling together and my heart fluttering. If I couldn’t clench my legs to hide the arousal, he’d see and pray on my most depraved attraction.

I liked his degradation.

Thwack.

His palm slapped over my hanging, pinched breasts, my blood trapped at the surface, no doubt turning my skin a fabulous shade of purple.

“Is that clear?”

Sacha’s accent thickened, and my belly flipped.

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” He moved the back of his knuckles down my cheek in a soothing motion until they rested under my chin again. “You’ll do anything for me, won’t you,malishka?”

Whatever this new term meant, it had the muscles in my thighs clenching and my head nodding despite my follicles tugging on my scalp.

“Very good.” His mouth came down on me like a whisper of wind, his tongue warm on my lips as he probed inside my mouth, our tongues dancing with seduction.

Sacha’s lips slid away from me, but I stretched my neck, my hair pulling the rope around my throat, tightening until I could move no further.

“Where did you get the cocaine?”

Chapter 37

Sacha

Mia’sfacewhitenedlikea sheet draped over a dead body, the life drained away beneath, yet still animated with twitches of death.

“Remember my promise of pain.”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I swear it.”

A smile twitched my lips upward. “I was hoping my toy wanted to play the hard way.”

After putting Ivan down like a dog and leaving his body for the woods to feast upon, I’d pictured running my blood-soaked hands down her body and bathing in my debauchery once again. Because onlyTheirtemptation could lead me astray.

But instead, I’d showered and found myself buried in a new bottle of Vodka, a vise I hadn’t partaken in for years, as I watched her dance around her bathroom and snort cocaine. It took everything I had to sit and watch her slip into her old ways.

I tore my hands from her body and dipped into my dresser, pulling out a wand with a black handle that bled into purple glass with a small bulbous end.

“Do you know what this is?”

“No,” she said hoarsely. She cleared it and tried again. “What is it?”

“It’s pain wrapped up in pretty colors.”

If this didn’t get her talking, I’d make her blood splash against my floor, giving her the illusion of death until her lips loosened and her tongue moved. She’d wish for death but be far from the reprieve. Whoever gave her the drugs without my express permission would find themselves on the wrong side of my mercy.

“What does it do?”

“Picture Zeus’ bolt of lightning in my hand.”

Her eyes widened as she pulled her hands against the chain, her body lifting, only to slam back down.

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