Page 8 of Anorthic Anarchy

When I glance up at the crowd in my cell, my husband-to-be flashes a glowing branding iron in his hand. With a sob, I scan my ass. A bull’s head emblem is seared into the delicate skin of my outer cheek. The ruddy burn throbs with torment, bubbling at the edges with serum.

It’s a terrifying sight. More so than the removable collar. It’s permanent. A testament to betrayal of my obedience.

Booming off the low ceilings, his voice temporarily stuns my mind away from my stinging sore. “I am Consort Strauss, butyou may call me master or sir. I won’t respond to anything else. Rest assured, little angel, I won’t touch you until your eighteenth birthday. And then I’ll put an heir inside you to rid your blood of the vile viper in your DNA by combining it with mine.”

He hands the offending weapon to the man in the black suit. Sniffling, I fold into myself tighter as the master looms over me, his shadow blocking any light in the room. His face had been illuminated in the light, but now it’s pitch black. My stomach knots with every one of his commands as he says them with authority. What if he actually hurts me? Worse than he already has?

“As a wife, you won’t be expected to work here as the others do, only to bear my child. Other than absolute obedience to my word alone, that is all that is required of you. Do you understand me?”

I nod rapidly, rubbing my nose with the back of my hand. But the gesture must offend him because the once easy demeanor suddenly flips. His rage is palpable. “Kneel before your master and look at the ground. Respond appropriately to my question.”

Resuming the position, my wound aches as it stretches, but I do as he says. “Yes, sir.”

“Sit back on your heels. Hands in your lap. Gaze at my shoes and try again.”

Pausing for a moment, I try to think of his instructions. With a rough swallow, I say clearer, “Yes, sir.”

He’s silent for so long, I almost look up, but then he breathes out, “Good, angel.” The melodic tone returns, and the name alone makes my heart rate escalate. Especially as he says it so tenderly. It’s puzzling.

Spinning, he turns away from me, and the other man follows behind. Dilan pauses and points to the sink cabinet, then closes my cell door and locks it before leaving.

Wyatt will save me.

Chapter 5

Strauss

In the string of time, I’m a bow. Crossing over and forming the knots most needed to hold the chaos at bay. Which is the only enjoyment I receive out of life now, knowing that everyone is quite aware that at any moment…

I can come undone.

“I have the last Barrington. Once she has our combined bloodlines within her womb, nothing else will matter. Herodius and Clavius will be finished. They won’t have the ability to tear our families apart any longer.”

Falcon gazes out the front window with me as if she didn’t hear a word but, like the excellent spy she is, I know she’s analyzing her next strategy.

After a swallow, her deep voice murmurs, “Unless they get to her, too.”

Shaking my head, I sip my vodka and dip my eyes to her face. One of her dark eyebrows raises with a question that I answer. “No. I have a plan for that.”

She stares at me solemnly with a labored sigh. “Of course you do. If you feel like sharing it all, sir, let me know.”

I lift my cigarette to my lips and take a deep inhale, absorbing the calming cancer as I scan her natural black hair. “You cut it.”

Turning back to the dying daylight, she nods slightly. “Halcyon would spot me too easily slipping out of the property with an afro.” Without a glance at me, she takes a step back, her black silk dress catching the rays of the sunset. “Those things will kill you.”

My tongue finds its way into my cheek as I pinch my lips to prohibit a reply, and when she raises her gaze to mine, a flood of tears lines the lower lids. Smirking, I touch her cheek lightly with my thumb. A quick inhale parts her full lips as she closes her eyes. Her sadness at my tenderness only brings me comfort.

“Sir, your dinner awaits.” Dilan finds us in my study and places a hand on my back possessively. Falcon nods and slips into the shadows where she feels most comfortable. Tamping out the butt, I slide the ashtray across the desk, then set my empty double next to it.

Dilan waves her hand toward the open door. “Upstairs. I prepared the girls for you.”

On our way onto the first set of carpeted steps, she seems hesitant. “Yes?” I ask.

“Sir…what did you think of your new wife?”

“She’s a child. And I’m not fond of children.” Dilan’s figure relaxes, as if I’ve given her an acceptable answer. My cock twitches once in my dress pants, thinking of the little blonde angel resting on her heels for me, willing to please and be submissive to my needs. Obedience is all I require for now. I can force strength inside her.

And I will.

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