Page 54 of Vicious King

17

Tatum

“We need to talk.”

Elias was in my face again, holding out a sheaf of papers. “What’s that?” I mumbled.

“Sit up and read it.”

He waited patiently for me to collect myself. I took the document and leafed through it, my pulse doubling with each page. It was a contract detailing my sale to Crown and Dagger with my express permission.

I, Tatum Marris, of sound body and mind, relinquish my rights and agency to Crown and Dagger. I do so for an indefinite period at the discretion of the Crown and Dagger member who takes responsibility for me. I understand, agree with, and accept the terms laid out in sections 1, 2, 3, and 4 of this contract, including any sub-clauses.

That paragraph followed several pages of terms and conditions. Underneath it, with a blue-black flourish, was my signature. Except it wasn’t really mine.

I dropped the contract. The sight of it, the sheer evilness of it, made me feel nauseated. My stomach suddenly contracted so violently that I wasn’t sure I’d have time to make it to the bathroom, and I practically flew off the bed and through the door. I got there with seconds to spare and heaved my guts up in the toilet. The acid stench of vomit filled my nostrils, and I surveyed the mess with watery eyes as I continued to heave.

Elias wordlessly handed me a glass of water and a capful of mouthwash. I mumbled a ‘thank you’ and headed back to my bedroom.

I wasn’t sure why he showed me the contract. To make me feel bad? More of his sick games? I sat back on the bed, my stomach churning as I waited for him to say something.

“What do you think of that?” he said, glancing at the contract. “Real or fake?”

I gritted my teeth. So it was simply more of his wicked game. He wanted me to tell the truth—that it was a fake contract—just so he could lift my hopes up before crushing them all over again.

Nope. Not playing today, Elias.

“It’s the contract I signed,” I lied.

“Then why did you throw up at the sight of it?” His eyes narrowed.

I didn’t miss a beat. “I feel sick because I’ve caught some sort of chill. I’m sure you remember that I spent last night in a freezing forest.”

“Yes. Your hiking trip gone wrong, or whatever it was you claimed. Just a mistake.” He pressed his lips into a thin line.

“I never said that.”

“You never said the truth either, which is that you were trying to run because you’re a captive here.”

I glared at him. Why was he still trying this crap with me? Surely I already made it clear earlier that I wouldn’t fall for any more of his trickery.

“I told you before, I’m not a captive.” My eyes fell on the contract. “I mean, look. It’s all there in those pages. I sold myself here. That’s my signature.”

He leaned in close, one hand going to my shoulder. “I don’t think it is. It’s not your writing,” he said firmly. “I know you’re too scared to tell me right now, and I get that. But you don’t belong here.”

I shook him off, incensed. I was so sick of this bullshit. “So you’re going to pretend you never wanted me as a captive?” I hissed. “You’re going to pretend you never hated me for the whole Ben thing? You’re really going to pretend the thought of having me here without my consent never turned you on?”

He exhaled deeply. “Jesus,” he muttered. “Look, Tatum, I’ll be brutally honest. Yeah, before I had you with me, I fucking hated you. Just like I told you that day on the island. Sometimes I used to picture you crying because of me, screaming because of me, terrified because of me. I’d picture you kneeling in front of me, your eyes filled with fear, your hands tied behind your back, your body covered in bruises. I’d picture you as my hostage, begging me to let you go, and in my head, I never would. Never.”

I froze in place. I wasn’t hearing his words with just my ears. My whole body was picking up on it, blooming with goosebumps that started on my neck and spread out across every inch of my skin. Evil.

Elias skimmed a hand over his jaw and went on. “No, that’s a lie. It wasn’t sometimes,” he said. He stood up, his eyes darkening. “It was all the time. You were constantly in my thoughts, tied up and destroyed. And when I found out you wanted to sell yourself to the society, I didn’t even think it was good enough. I didn’t want you to be willing. I didn’t want your consent. I’ll admit that.”

A thrill of pure fear shot through me. I felt even more nauseated now. “Well, there you go,” I whispered.

“I’m not done. Let me finish,” he said. “I thought I wanted all that. I thought I hated you that much. I thought that was the kind of guy I am. The kind of monster who’d be okay with all that. But then, all those months ago, you told me you didn’t sell yourself. You told me it was your parents. And suddenly there was this crack inside me. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel good. I didn’t want it anymore when I realized I had it. Or at least I thought I did.” He paused to scratch his head. “So I went and spoke to my father. He showed me that.” He nodded toward the contract. “He said there was a clause in there which stated you have to fight me. Pretend not to give consent or know what’s going on.”

I bit my lip. I knew what he was talking about. I saw it while I was reading it earlier. “Yeah. Page four,” I muttered.

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