Page 27 of Savage Kingdom

No panties or bra, but he got me some fucking rubber sandals. How thoughtful of him.

He looked at me, and he was quite handsome, attracting the attention of all the women who would pass us. Tall, with an effortless swagger that could turn deadly in seconds.

I didn’t know who was hunting whom anymore. The moment I took his hand, I thought I was in control, but as soon as he had me alone in the van, I realized I never had it at all.

As I walked, I ignored the pain, kept my shoulders even. It wasn’t hard, not when you grew hand in hand with pain.

“Come on, Petal.”

I was too focused on controlling my pain that I yelped in surprise when he took me in his arms. My hands went to his shoulders to steady myself so I wouldn’t fall. Call it self-preservation. He smelled divine, a smooth cologne with a hint of methanol. Slowly I raised my gaze from his throat up to meet his face. His amber eyes looked bright against the sun.

“What shall I call you?” I asked, knowing that in this world, not many things had meaning, and not all things were sacred, but sometimes a name was all we had to hold on to. That’s why mine was guarded like a vault, something long ago buried, that only one person still living knew about.

“Gideon,” he rasped out, the mint on his breath fanning my skin.

“Is that your real name or an alias?” I asked as he walked us through the lobby of the Hilton. He was staying in a luxury hotel, and I didn’t know if I was surprised or not since I didn’t know him and couldn’t yet judge him.

“Is the only name you’re going to get, Petal,” he said with a warning.

Something ran through me, but I ignored it. No one had ever given me a nickname outside of sexual humiliation tactics.

I bit my tongue. You could only push a man so far. I was patient, and sooner or later, he would divulge his secrets. Yoro didn’t scare me, not as much as facing Damian’s wrath did. What Yoro would do to me was child’s play to what the head of the Sekten would do if I came back empty-handed.

Yoro would still want me. He would try and break me, and then he would fuck me. As for Damian, he knew how to chip at pieces of my soul.

He was a monster, a creation of the Sekt founders. I was a pawn, created by the same laws.

“Plotting my murder?” Gideon asked as the elevator made its way up. I realized we were twenty floors in and he still had me in his arms.

“I can walk,” I said, wiggling so he could put me on the floor.

“I’m aware,” he said, not setting me down.

“When you get tired and I get the upper hand, you’ll have no one to blame by yourself.” I shrugged.

My head turned to the elevator door when he chuckled against my neck. I shivered, a tingle going down my back. I sucked in a breath when he slowly slid my body down his. I had nearly touched the ground when he grabbed my hips and pressed me against him.

His arousal was digging into my ass—and he did it on purpose. He most likely wanted to instill fear in me. As if being raped was something new to me.

“Don’t challenge me, Petal. You’re not going to like what happens,” he stated. My back arched involuntarily when he pressed a kiss to my nape. Gideon laughed. “Or maybe you will.”

I was simmering by the time the door pinged on the penthouse floor. He was fucking with me. He thought I was a sex slave, so he was going to use that against me. That’s what all slaves were taught to believe—that they were just an object for their master’s pleasure. Sure, I might be part pet, but I was also a weapon, and a deadly one at that.

He led me by the arm to his room, all pretense of caring about my well-being gone. The penthouse was lavish, with floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of Lake Michigan.

“Mercenary or spy?” I said as soon as he closed the door to his room.

A wolfish grin took over his face, making him look sinister.

“Petal, you’re in no position to ask those questions.”

His hold on my arm was painful, probably on purpose to see my reaction, so I didn’t give him any. When we got to the bed, he threw me on it.

Gideon was on top of me, straddling my body—I couldn’t move. It excited him to dominate over me, or maybe it wasn’t just me, and that was just his kink—control. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of frightening me. I was sure anything he wanted to do, I had already survived it.

“You’re going to be a good girl and stay still while I make some calls,” he told me as he put the cuffs on, fastening them behind my back. He got off me, and just as I had turned around to try and sit down, he was back holding onto a black rope.

I glared at him.

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