Page 60 of Pure Vengeance

I heard the rasp of porcelain over wood and hid a flinch when he said, “Eat.”

Glancing up just high enough to look over the edge of the table, I saw a serving platter filled with a variety of cubed cheese,olives, glistening purple grapes, and whole-grain crackers, along with slices of what looked like Parma ham and cured salami. I caught the lower edge of a stemmed wineglass and lifted my gaze higher to find it filled with white wine.

“Help yourself,” Lachlan said before tossing a grape into his mouth.

Whatever he was planning wouldn’t end well for me, so I decided to take the offer. At least I’d get a decent meal before I went back to the kennel.

Willing my hand to remain steady, I ate a piece of cheese, and almost moaned. The rich, slightly salty Manchego was like heaven after weeks of eating unseasoned ground chicken cooked with peas, chopped broccoli stems, and lentils. For all I knew, it was the same food Dante ate.

I fucking hated peas.

Belatedly, I wondered if Lachlan had poisoned the food, but he was eating from the same platter. Of course, I hadn’t seen him pour the wine.

Fuck it. I lifted the glass to my lips and drank several swallows of a wonderful pinot grigio. Despite knowing I was about to be the recipient of yet another mindfuck, I was going to carpe the shit out of this diem. After all, I had good reason to celebrate. The price would be painfully high, but my father was finally dead.

Lachlan didn’t eat much past that one grape, but kept my wine refilled while I devoured everything in sight. When the platter was finally empty, he divided the last of the wine between our glasses and lifted his in a toast.

After so long without a drop of alcohol, the wine went straight to my head, erasing my sense of self-preservation along with my silence. I probably should have kept my mouth shut, but Lachlan seemed different somehow—like maybe he’d actuallylisten. Touching my glass to his, I asked, “What are we drinking to?”

He smiled at me—and it wasn’t one of the nasty smirks he usually gave me either. Weird, but probably just more gaslighting to encourage me to let my guard down. Even stranger, he didn’t comment on the first words I’d spoken to him in weeks.

“We’re drinking to questions asked and truths exchanged.”

Lachlan

“Huh.”

I didn’t stop her while she finished the last of the wine. After drinking most of the bottle, I doubted she was entirely sober, despite the food she’d eaten. Of course, I wanted her that way. Alcohol tended to loosen reluctant tongues, and I wanted her to speak without measuring her words.

There were some truths I wouldn’t ask about. I already knew how wet she got when I took her for walkies and made her squat to relieve herself in the grass where everyone could watch her. I’d heard her breathless whimpers as her bowels filled when Jerome administered her daily enemas. She dripped liquid heat every time the bell attached to her clit piercing chimed, and I knew what she sounded like when she came.

Natasha would deny how much her body loved being degraded, and I wanted deeper truths.

“Huh?” I asked.

“I’m just wondering who should go first in this little game, and what the rules are.” She frowned at her empty glass, thenadded, “It’s probably one of your mindfucks anyway, so I guess the rules don’t matter.”

Hiding a smile, I cocked my head. “You’re being very brave right now.”

“I’m being very drunk right now,” she retorted. “I might as well get some enjoyment out of the game since I already know how it ends.”

“Oh? How does it end?”

“It ends with a tail in my ass, and me sleeping on concrete in a cage.” She lowered her head but lifted it almost as quickly. “It ends with you torturing me for something my father probably did, and then you’ll sleep like a baby in that big, comfortable bed without a care in the world.”

“Well—”

“So, I’ll go first with my question. Now that he’s dead, will you let me go?”

“We’ll save that one for later,” I countered. “Why have you lost so much weight?”

Her cheeks turned pink, but she didn’t avert her gaze or try to hide herself. “You’ve been feeding me the Keto diet from hell for over a month, plus two or three hours of cross training every day. What did you expect?”

“That’s fair.” And it explained why she’d devoured the snacks. She must have been starving for the fat, salt, and carbs.

Before I could formulate another question, she asked, “Are you going to let me go?”

“Again, tabled until later. I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

---