Page 26 of Cherry Auction

I don’t have a clue what to do with the warring affection and vengeance in my chest, but I suppose that’s the whole point of this, isn’t it? I never was good at expressing my emotions. Moira’s always saying so.

But I’m happy to show Mads exactly how I feel. I’m better with actions than words, anyway.

As soon as she gives in to me and lets me start to train her flesh, oh yes, I’ll show herexactlyhow I’ve felt all these years.

It will be so satisfying, in a way that has my fingers itching for her skin, once she finallyyields.

I’ll be a far more benevolent owner than they were to me. And once and for all, the control will be mine.

After more screaming, some time spent curled up in a ball—or as much of one as she can manage with her shackles—at six minutes past hour thirty-two, she finally whispers in the tiniest voice that I have to reverse and playback with the volume cranked all the way up: “I yield.”

Immediately, I race to the elevator, my heart thumping. I force myself to stand there for five minutes more before hitting the button to call the elevator. I can’t have her thinking I was waiting for her, after all.

Control is a tentative game of temptation and withdrawal. I’ve become a master at it over the years, but this is truly the greatest test of my skills yet. I’m finally faced with the only other master to have ever bested me.

TWELVE

BROOKE

I hate him.My throat aches from screaming out my fury. My limbs ache from yanking against the horrible, barred contraption he’s bound me in. Worse than chains, it constricts my movements so much, it’s driving me insane.

I’ve felt nuts a few times after waking up and not being able to remember my own name, but the last week, or however long he’s had me down here, has made me rethink what insanity really means. I’ve barely slept—who could in this fucking contraption he’s got me locked in? Basic bodily functions like eating and using the bathroom are all but impossible. I mean, they’re possible, but fucking barely.

But worse than all that, he was fuckingright.

I can’t stand being alone.

There’s nothing but my goddamned thoughts. I’m supposed to be on this big journey to find myself, right?

But when I’m left alone with nothingbutmy own thoughts for company, I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin.

At first I thought he’d just shut me down here and forgotten about me. Then when his voice came over the speaker and I realized he was watching me the entire time… it felt… better.

I still wanted to stab him in the eyeballs for locking me up in this awful fucking cuff contraption, but still, someone wasthere. It wasn’t just me and the darkness. And the nightmares.

The last nightmare I woke up screaming from, I finally remembered something. Just an image in the darkness. A black box. Like a trunk you put blankets in. And I was so, so afraid when I saw it. I can’t rememberwhy. But I was so terrified.

What am I supposed to do with these dreams and the puzzle of crumbs Domhnall’s dropped, if any of it’s true?

My father’s someone who likes inflicting pain. Domhnall said he made an art of it. What the hell’s that supposed to mean? And how does Domhnall know it? Did he meet my father at another BDSM club? How do I fit into it? He said I’m a liar, and that we made him a monster.

But if I was so horrible to him in some past life, whydidn’t Moira freak out when she met me? How long agowasit, anyway?

My thoughts spiral with questions only Domhnall can answer. Which only makes me more furious. Because he’s got me locked down here and asking him to talk would mean giving in and inviting my captor back in. Not that he’ll sit down and have a civil conversation with me.

Or would he?

Maybe if I could just make himunderstand. Sometimes he almost seems… familiar. Like I swear I?—

The doctors said things would start to feel familiar.

Nothing has. Except the man who’s taken me captive.

Which is so beyond fucked up I don’t even know what to do with it. I can’t even describe what about him is familiar. Memories feel like a word on the tip of my tongue I can’t quite recall. But they’re so close. It’s like I feel the weight ofher—the person I was—heavier when I’m near him.

He’s the key.

But everything he says… If he’s delusional, his delusions have logic to them. It’s just that whatever he thinks about me, he’s wrong.

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