Page 29 of Brutal Savior

I nod and twitch my foot, mumbling and trying to bring his attention to my panties, which are still around my ankles. Ican’t pull them up because of my bound hands, and standing here with them like that, in front of people, will be just about unbearable.

He crouches, touching the cotton. “Did you want me to pull these up for you?”

There’s a note in his voice I don’t like, but I mumble my assent anyway. He gives a low chuckle, and it has a dangerous edge that makes me picture a British gangster in an old movie I saw once. He laughed with his victims before slashing their faces with his razor blade.

“No, they can stay right there. And—” He lifts my skirt up, tucking it in at the waist so my whole ass is on display. “—I want to make sure everyone gets a good look at your lovely bruised arse.”

I whip my head up to glare at him. Fuck, I wish I was six feet tall with one of those Amazonian, ripped figures. I wish I could look him in the face instead of breaking my neck just to see him.

He smiles down at me, and my face heats. I’m vibrating, I’m so damn furious. But any reaction equals another session over his knee. The frustration of it, the pure fucking helplessness, boils up, and I turn away quickly as a sob forces its way out.

Screw him.

Screw this.

Screw standing here, four pairs of eyes glued to my ass while I cry in the corner.

He grips my chin, turning my face up to his. Deliberately, he pulls a handkerchief—not a tissue, an actual goddamn cotton handkerchief—out of his back pocket and uses it to wipe the tears and drool off my face.

There’s a drawn-out moment when I don’t know whether to feel grateful or even more furious. Then he releases my chin and turns back to his colleagues. “Now. What else do I need to see?”

Their meeting drones on, and I try to focus on what they’re saying to gather useful info, but I keep slipping in and out of awareness. The throbbing in my ass, the effort of standing here motionless, and the pure shame of how exposed I am overwhelms my brain and turns the words to mush.

It sounds like someone lied about Jacob on the internet, and someone else is going to try and fix it. What lies could be worse than the truth? What would the world think if they knew all these scientists were holding women prisoner?

Even as I think it, I realize hardly anyone would give a shit. Women disappear every day, and it barely makes the news. The cops are probably all in on it, taking a nice juicy cut. When I get out of here, I’m not going near the police. I’ll have to find a new name and turn myself into a ghost.

It’s not like I’d be leaving much behind anyway.

God, I sound mopey and pathetic. Enough. A new start would be good—somewhere exciting, like Asia. I’ve wanted to travel forever but never managed to save up the cash. When I get out of here, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll steal what I need and fuck off forever.

It’s a nice fantasy, and it keeps me going as the stupid men finish their meeting, then take another long while sitting together and drinking. Chatting about bullshit. My embarrassment about the position I’m in gradually fades; it doesn’t feel like they’re paying attention to me anyway. I can’t hear the young guy’s voice anymore, so he’s probably gone.

Instead of worrying about my ass, I’m now worrying about the gag and how uncomfortable it’s getting. I just want to close my mouth and relieve the ache in my jaw. And Christ, I need to wipe away the drool. It’s all down my face, so gross I want to scream. Why do people find these things sexy?

My ears prick up when I hear the big boss ask Jacob about me.

“How are you progressing with Quinn? Nasty business this morning. I’m not convinced she’s the right choice for you, Jacob. Given the unusual circumstances, I believe I can still let you change your mind. We can call these next few days a trial period, even though it’s highly unorthodox.”

I hold my breath, waiting for his answer and unsure what I want to hear. Jacob has to be the most difficult person to escape in this whole damn place. If he decides I’m too much trouble, I might get given to someone easier to deal with.

But at the same time, the other men make my skin crawl in a way Jacob doesn’t. Any of them seeing me naked would make me want to spew my guts up. Jacob? I can handle it. Some twisted part of me might even enjoy it, if he’d just stop fucking punishing me.

“No, I’m keeping her.” There’s not a single bit of hesitation in his voice. “She’s a pain in the arse, but I’m having fun training her. I’ll make her into a good girl yet.”

A shivery feeling of satisfaction passes right through me at his words, followed by dismay when they hit my brain. There’s to be no easy escape, then. No old guy I’d eat for breakfast. If I want my freedom, I’ll need to outthink Jacob.

When the men finally finish their chat, which I’m sure Jacob drew out just to make me suffer, he thanks the others and returns to my side. He studies me up and down, a small smile on his lips, but there’s darkness in his eyes that makes my stomach turn over, the green a deep forest shade.

He whispers, “You look so fucking sexy standing there like that. Like a well-behaved little slut.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Even if I could speak, I’d have nothing to say to that. I should be pissed off by his words, but the way he said them is full of rough need. I hadn’t even thought he’d been looking at me. Maybe I was wrong.

His smile widens as I stare up at him, trapped by his gaze. “What, no furious glare? No attempted headbutt? I didn’t think you’d be this easy to break. A little spanking and some corner time.” He shakes his head. “So easy.”

Oh, hell no. He’s trying to provoke me, and it’s working, but I need to keep myself on a leash. He’s probably got some horrible punishment planned for the next time I mess up and is excited to try it out. He has to be kidding with his “a little spanking.” What the hell would count as a lot?

Without warning, he hoists me up over his shoulder. Yet again. He hasn’t pulled my panties up or my skirt down, so everything is on view. I try really, really hard not to care—why do I need to worry about what these assholes think?—but it doesn’t quite work. I mumble at Jacob through my gag, but he just laughs.

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