Page 80 of Marked

I step to the side, letting her come to stand beside me.

Grabbing her arm, I pull her close and lean down to her ear.

“You’re doing great, Harley. I know you’re scared, but can you be my strong girl and keep it up?” I keep my features stoic, just in case anyone is watching us.

“Don’t speak. Nod if you’re all right,” I order her.

She licks her lip, then gives me the sign.

“You’re going to be well rewarded,” I promise her. I wish I could kiss her, release some of her fear. But I need to remain aloof. For both of our safety.

This part of the club is more open, and a much larger space. And it needs it.

There are three bar lounges, all set up with the same black and red color scheme. But there is no dance floor in here. Instead, there are three platforms that all the bar couches surround.

To the left of us, on a raised platform is a naked woman bound to a St. Andrew’s cross. Her head rests against her left arm. Her chest is heaving. Bright red marks cross her chest and her thighs.

A man stands to her side, whispering in her ear. A thin rod is fisted in his hand.

I grit my teeth, reminding myself that safe play isn’t the concern of anyone in this club. This place goes far beyond any BDSM club I’ve ever played in. There is no safe word scheme. No dungeon masters walking around to be certain the submissives aren’t harmed.

As we come to the second platform, it becomes even more evident.

The woman on this platform is on her hands and knees. Blood trickles over her sides and pools beneath her on the floor. She’s been whipped. No one offers help. They sit in their black leather loungers and watch while sipping drinks.

“That was a harsh one.” A man steps up to me. “The idiot went too far too fast. She won’t be any good to him the rest of the night.”

“She’s still alive, isn’t she?” I turn to find him staring at me. His graying eyebrow lifts.

“He’ll get a good fuck out of her, I’m sure.” He laughs and raises a beer bottle to me in greeting. “Baron Barnes is my name. Haven’t seen you here before.” Is this man for real? He’s playing the part of a high-brow aristocrat too well for me to know if it’s a joke or if he’s locked in some sort of mental break.

“No.” I don’t offer more. “First time.”

“This one yours?” He gestures to Harley, who’s standing in the perfect spot where I can see her, but she is out of our way.

“She is.”

“Hmmm.” If his beady little eyes so much as touch her, I’m going to have to remove them. “Mind if I have a look?”

My teeth snap together.

Play the part for now.

“No. Not at all. But any part of you touches any part of her, and it becomes mine,” I warn, and not just for show. I will gladly cut off his fucking finger if it so much as brushes a hairon her arm.

“Girl, step back, lift your chin up,” I order her. “Eyes on me,” I add so she understands where to look. I can’t have her accidentally giving this monster permission to go beyond what I’ve allowed.

When her eyes meet mine, a shiver runs through my body. Her fear has twisted into pride. So long as she keeps her eyes on me, she has nothing to worry about.

I’m her protector.

“She’s got nice tits,” the man says, sipping his beer. He walks around her, his fingers flexing. He wants to touch her ass. I almost want him to try.

A scream from behind me scares Harley. She moves her eyes for a moment but brings them right back to me.

“Are you here to play or to sell?” He comes back around her, stepping in front of her like she’s not a person.

And here, at a place like this, she’s not.

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