Page 7 of Cruel Master

I had been planning for this since the night she had left.

For the next several weeks, Angel Price would cease to exist. She would become nothing but my toy, my plaything, and my little fuck doll. She would do what I wanted, when I wanted, and how I wanted. And if she ever wanted even an inch of freedom left, she would do it all with a smile on her face, a collar around her neck, and the sweet words ‘yes, Master’ on her beautiful lips.

I looked forward to breaking her down and seeing how the newer, stronger Angel could take my training. I’d been too easy on her before, too understanding, too afraid of scaring her off. Now that she’d made my worst fears realized—her inconsideration and abandonment—there was nothing I feared. She would bow to me, she would kneel for me, and she would let me back inside of her once more, and once it was all over … I’d bind her to me in the deepest of ways.

My hands settled lower on her body, my fingers pressing against her stomach. Raphael had wanted an heir, and whether his little princess liked it or not, she would provide one to me.

4

GAVEN

Angel’s soft features tightened in slumber as I carried her from the car and into the house that I’d had specially arranged for her. Already, the doctor awaited us at the entrance. The second he saw me, the slim man jumped to the door and held it open for me as I entered, only to follow closely behind a moment later.

I strode through the house and into the bedroom where my sweet, betraying wife would spend all of her time until I’d fully trained her in the ways of domestic obedience. I laid her gently upon the surface of the bed as her lashes fluttered.

“Give her something to keep her asleep,” I commanded.

The doctor jumped forward as I stepped back. His bag settled onto the floor as he bent over and withdrew a small vial of clear liquid and a pre-packaged needle. I watched him like a hawk, well aware that my men were hovering at the door with only one stepping forward to risk entering the room.

As the doctor prepared the drugs, I strode back to my right-hand man. As tall as he was stone-faced, Matteo Vanini, despite his Italian roots, didn't care that I was an American in their world. He’d been with me for the better part of the last four and a half years—having left Raffaello’s house not long after the man’s passing.

“I want the men out,” I commanded. “I don’t want her to see them when she wakes.”

Matteo’s eyes shifted from the bed to me. “Do you think she would be frightened?”

No. She would likely recognize a few of them—the majority had followed Matteo from Raffaello’s reign. I wanted them gone for a different reason, and they didn’t need to know why. All they needed to do was obey.

“Just get them out,” I snapped before turning back just as the doctor slid a needle into her arm, earning a flinch from her sleeping form. Her lashes fluttered open, but as the doctor compressed the syringe and the sedative entered her bloodstream, the combination of it and the groggy confusion she was likely feeling had her quickly slipping back under.

I watched as her brows pinched together and then eventually relaxed once more. She seemed to sink further into the bed as her whole body loosened, and she fell into a deeper sleep. Behind me, Matteo barked orders as he stepped to the door and gestured orders at the others.

Once the doctor was finished administering the sedative that would keep her unconscious for a while longer, he began his physical examination. I could practically smell the body odor wafting from the man as he sweated. No doubt it was caused, in part, by the fact that I was now hovering over him, watching his every movement. I couldn’t seem to help myself. It’d been five years since I’d been this close to my own fucking wife. I was curious to know what she’d done with the body that was to carry my children in all that time.

After taking her temperature, blood pressure, and heart rate, the doctor glanced back nervously. “Um … sir? I-I need to perform a more invasive examination. Perhaps you could step out of the room while I—”

“No.” The word ripped from me as I flashed him a dark glare. “I will assist. What do you need?”

The doctor visibly gulped and turned back to Angel’s sleeping form with trepidation. “A-as per your request,” he said. “I-I need to undress her and … erm … check for signs of sexual intercourse.”

“Understood.” Slipping out of my jacket, I tossed it onto a nearby chair before striding around the bed and crawling onto it. Ignoring the doctor’s wide-eyed and curious stare, I leveraged Angel’s limp body up and began unbuttoning her blouse, slipping it off of her form as I moved down to the rest of her clothes.

Once I was done and she was laid naked before my gaze, I snapped a look back to the doctor. “You will only look at what you need to in order to finish your examination,” I growled. “You will only touch what you need to. Is that clear?”

He nodded sharply. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir. I-I would never—”

“A simpleyeswill suffice,” I said, cutting him off.

He nodded and jerked his gaze down to Angel. I reclined against the side of the bed that wasn’t taken up by the woman lying there and stared down at her upturned face. My gaze fell lower as the doctor’s fingers prodded at her stomach and then he lifted her arm, turning it one way and then the other before setting it down and withdrawing a notepad to scribble something down.

She was thinner than I remembered. Too thin. The softness of her cheeks had evened out. The child she might have once been was long gone and in its place was a woman—a conniving, fleeing runaway.

She had scars that weren’t there before. Shallow lines across one wrist and another on her stomach. Blade marks? Who would dare have hurt her? A man? An enemy? Was there more I needed to be aware of? Whatever the case, I would soon find out. Everything I wanted to know, I would pull from her very lips even if it meant I had to torture it out of her. So help her, if she’d given herself to another … I’d find them all and slaughter them right in front of her.

“I-I’m going to start the lower examination,” the doctor stuttered as he moved to the end of the bed.

With gritted teeth, I offered a singular nod. One wrong move and the Glock sitting in the holster on my chest would get its first workout in a while. I dared him with my eyes to make one wrong move, but he never did. Once the man had been given the go-ahead, he was all professional.

With careful yet gentle hands, he pressed Angel’s legs apart and then pulled on a pair of gloves. “This would be easier in stirrups, sir,” he said.

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