Page 160 of The Harbinger

“Wait.” My ears rang with a thousand alarm bells, and my head lolled to one side, unresponsive to my will.

Snap.

Thebasement replaced the bedroom, morphing into a kaleidoscope of erratic images, like a malfunctioning neon sign swaying to and fro. The room vanished with each sweep of the flickering light and emerged once more when it retreated.No, no, no.

Snap.

I flinched as a figure materialized in the far corner of the room, barely discernible in the erratic strobe of light.

Snap.

Snap.

Snap.

With each cycle of the flickering light, the figure drew closer until it loomed inches away from my face, its searing breath scorching my cheek.

We’re ready.

My screams leveled, covering my fear as the orgasm crashed into me, and Sacha’s spurts of warm cum coated my insides with his elevated, drawn-out groan.

I dropped, my head coming down, the pressure against my throat released, and Fuego’s shadowed face dissolved like skin dipped in acid as the blood moved beyond the noose.

Sacha pulled his pulsating cock from my abused body and then tugged on the ropes, loosening them as he lowered me to the ground. He unwound the artwork, which left imprints throughout my flesh. The vibrator shut off next before he removed the straps around my waist and thighs.

Fuego’s haunting words, and Sacha’s punishing yet addictive touch, left me on the floor in a state of paralysis, my arms and legs dead as though he’d removed them in a flash procedure.

He kneeled beside me, his chest heaving as he tossed the remaining rope to the side, then slid the noose off my neck.

“There’s something about you that has me saving you repeatedly despite years of discipline convincing me you’re not worth the trouble.”

His hand moved down my chest, gently massaging each of my breasts, working the blood back into them, then trailed down each of the marks left there, his hard focus on the untouched branding.

“I should’ve done as Ruslan taught me, but I couldn’t.” He pulled me up by my arms and into his, his face buried in my neck as he cupped the back of my head, his fingers woven through my hair. “But if you do something so stupid again,” he whispered against me. “I can’t promise I’ll be so lenient.”

A tear trickled down my cheek, my fingers twitching, the joints aching as I flexed them.

“I’m sorry, Sacha.”

He pulled back and wiped the blood from my chin with his thumb. “You will be if you ever lie to me.” He stuck his thumb between his lips and sucked it until it was clean.

I wrapped my arms around his neck with a sloth-like slowness and attached myself to him, pulling my heavy, weak body into his lap. I straddled him and as if I weighed nothing, he stood and carried me into the bathroom. The blue lights chased away with blinding white.

“Can you stand?”

Unwrapping my shaking legs from his waist, I placed my feet on the chilly marble with his arm wrapped around my torso, keeping me steady. “I think so.”

“You’re bleeding again.”

I glanced down at my arm, noting a slow trickle of blood flowing down to my elbow.

I had forgotten about it and the need for a couple of stitches amidst the cocaine flowing and the alcohol warming me. Not to mention the intense sexual torture he’d inflicted. This cut was at the bottom of the totem pole of pains.

“I’ll fix it up,” I murmured, my voice soft and pliant.

“You should have taken care of it before.”

I nodded with a slight swallow, my tongue dry. “I know.”

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