Page 21 of Tower

“That’s enough.” His dark tenor washed over her, sucking the fight out of her. She dropped her hands to her sides and took a slow, ragged breath.

“Please…let me go,” she pleaded on a whisper.

“Never.” A solid statement. “Now, since you’ve proven you can’t follow directions, and you’ve promised to keep trying to escape, I’ll have to make other arrangements for you.”

“What? No. I’ll—” Her words were cut off by the clamp of his hand over her mouth. She sucked in air through her nose, struggling to get enough, but he didn’t budge.

“No more talking. You’ve said enough, Azalea.” He pushed her forward, frog walking her outside the guard house. He didn’t turn to the car, still idling just inside the gates, but shoved her toward the house.

She managed to keep up with his pace, not that she had a choice with his arm around her chest and his hand cutting off most of her air.

When they got to the stairs, he released her, spun her, and threw her over his shoulder. Her stomach lurched when it landed across his muscular build.

“Peter—”

A sharp smack to her bottom stilled her. “I said enough. Don’t make it worse.” His voice, though still velvety smooth, held a darker quality.

The door opened to the house, and the bright light of the afternoon quickly dissipated to darkness. Looking up as best she could, she saw another man—one who had been with Peter at her house the night before—standing at the door.

“No one comes upstairs,” Peter said as he walked through the foyer and ascended the staircase. Each step made her bounce on his shoulder.

He was taking her up to his room. He’d lock her in for sure this time. She’d tried to escape too soon. She should have taken the time to learn the layout of the house, figured out where his men were, and maneuvered around them. Exactly like at home.

Instead, she’d seen an opportunity and run with it. Like an idiot.

And now he’d lock her away.

When they reached his suite, he didn’t stop at his bedroom. He went to another door and opened it, walking into a darkened area. He spun around, shutting and bolting the door. Her head swam from all the movements and dangling upside down.

He bent forward, bringing her to her feet. She wiped the hair from her face and took a small step to get her bearings.

“Strip.”

The hard command surprised her.

She tucked her long strands of hair behind her ears and peered up at him. He had to be joking. He was trying to scare her.

His narrowed eyes, tense jaw, and stern expression didn’t imply any sort of amusement.

“Why?”

“Three seconds before I do it for you.” He lifted three fingers in the air. “One.” He lowered one finger.

“Wait. No. Okay.” She waved at him and retreated backward.

“Two.” Another finger bent.

“No.” She shook her head and looked around for somewhere to hide, to put distance between them.

Someone could have hit her in the chest, and it would have felt better than the shock at what she saw before her.

A human-sized cage. Taller than her, and wide enough for several people to stand inside together. Beside the cage, another spanking bench, like the one in his room. The wall was covered with hooks. Implements hung from half of them. Paddles, whips, floggers, leather straps—things she’d seen online but never in real life. They looked so much worse in real life.

“Three.”

She tried to run away, but he gripped her shoulders, spinning her to face him. With one tug at the neckline, he tore her dress. The dress split down the middle, and he ripped the flimsy material until it hung from her arms.

“You monster.” She tried to cover herself, but he smacked away her hands and finished pulling the clothing off her body then reached for her bra.

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