I pulled at my restraints once more, and the burn spread through my body; it was the only thing keeping me warm. I found refuge under the branding pain. My master had been mad at me. This was my punishment for saying the words he hated. Tears pooled around my eyes, and I begged them not to spill because if they did, my punishment would be much worse.
My master loved to play games, and he pretended to care. In those moments that followed such kindness, I would break. I’d probably broken a thousand times over by now, but I begged him to kill me this time.
He laughed at me, those eyes twinkling under the phosphorescent lights. His hands would roam over every cut, every scar he had ever inflicted, and he would say I was a masterpiece, and masterpieces never died.
The wetness between my legs was gone, and I counted that as a blessing. I hated cleaning the blood he left behind. Screaming could be heard in the other room, and that sick part of me that once had been glad it wasn’t me was now envious. Because no matter how much that other girl would cry and scream, her agony would be brief. Sometimes it went on for a night. Others made it days, but none of them had ever lasted as long as me—I was his perfect little pet.
I blinked away the unwanted thought. Bastian’s laughter was nothing like his. Even if there was nothing to be joyful about, he was always in a good mood, joking or teasing.
“Daphne didn’t touch you. She let you keep that weakness because she didn’t want to cause you any more harm.”
I flinched at his words. She did leave that weakness untouched until the last possible moment. That was worse than getting me used to touches here and there. She ripped out the safety she had created.
“I’m not weak,” I bit out. Maybe if I said it enough, I would soon believe it.
“May I?” He asked that stupid question as he pointed to my waist this time.
I glared at him, and he smiled at me. He was patient, I would give him that much. He always stood there waiting for my okay, and when I gave it, he did not gloat.
“Fine.”
His hand came to my waist. It was a featherlight touch that I could barely feel. His presence was another thing. The spicy scent of his cologne was the first thing that filled my nostrils.
“You need to angle your body this way,” he breathed into my ear as he shifted my hip slightly. Bas could have easily removed his fingers from my body, but they softly glided away.
I repeated the move I was doing again. This time, I could admit he had been right. The new position did help with my balance a bit more.
“Was it easy for you?”
Bas cocked his head and raised a brow.
“To get adjusted to this lifestyle.”
A faraway look crossed his features, and his dark eyes became bleak for a moment.
“It helped that I was physically fit, with various forms of martial arts under my belt. Still, no one likes getting stabbed and shot at.”
One of the first things Daphne made me do was suture my own wound. She had been precise in her cut and made it on the top right of my arm.
“Where did she strike you first?” I asked, waiting for some sort of proof that Daphne had not gone easier on me.
Bas smiled as his hand went to the lower part of his shirt. My eyes bulged when he lifted his shirt. I forced myself not to take a step back. It wasn’t like I had never seen a chest. Hell, I’d seen my master and his friends naked. Modesty was not something he practiced at those parties he liked to host. My master was thin and in shape, but he was no comparison to Bastian. I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t help myself. The contours of his body were fascinating. His abs were perfectly symmetrical, the indent on either side of his hips curved down, and a small trail of hair disappeared into his pants. I averted my eyes quickly, hoping my cheeks weren’t giving me away. On the side was a large scar that wasn’t perfectly linear. It curved, and the stitching was choppy, but when my eyes met Bastian’s again, he wore a proud smile.
“I passed out after I got it closed.” He chuckled as he put his shirt down. “Everything from there got a little harder, but mentally, I began to adapt, and I think that’s the most important part.”
It wasn’t a dig at me; it was just a fact. Our bodies are compelling and will grow in strength if we push them to the limits and feed them right, but to handle that strain, we must train our minds to keep up.
“Bastian.” I managed to say his name in one word, even though the rest of me got choked out.
He crossed his arms, waiting for me to continue.
“You were right. She did take it easy on me, so don’t do the same.”
A simple nod was his answer before he went to do his own training, and this time, I observed him, ready to point out a weakness, but there was none.
ELEVEN
One month later