Page 15 of Owning Nicci

She’s not what I expected to find with the information I had. And she’s far too good for my brother. The thought of him having her, of her lips wrapped around him, of her in his bed, sends a surge of possessive anger through me that makes my hands curl into fists, my muscles tensing as I stop and take several deep, slow breaths.

She’s mine now. That was always my plan—to take her and make her my pet, this woman who once belonged to my brother. To take something he once had, just as he did to me, all those years ago.

Sophie.The memory of her, the woman he took from me, rushes through me like a cold wind, dousing my lust and freezing my rage into something cold and hard. The woman I thought I loved, who I believed also loved me.

She chose my brother over me. My father chose my brother over me. All my life, I came second to him, even when I knew my plans were better, my strategies wiser. Even when I gave the woman I loved everything I had, promised her everything I could, she chosehim.

He might not be alive any longer, but I’ve still taken Nicci from him. Satisfaction surges through me at that thought—at the memory of her choking on my cock as I came down her throat, at the sight of her stripping naked for me, the sound of her calling mesir. That arousal returns, hot and sharp, and I rub my hand against my swelling length as a smile curves the corners of my lips.

She’s mine now. And I’ll take everything else, too. I’ll grind their memories into the dust and build a throne on top of them, with Barca’s discarded woman kneeling at my feet. And when I’m done with her?—

Then what?

I stride down the stairs, heading to the kitchen. My control is fragile where Nicci is concerned, but so long as I keep control, it doesn’t really matter why. I’m still in control—I’ve just made a deal, one that will benefit both of us. She gets her revenge, I get information, and the continued satisfaction of using her as I see fit. It’s not the same as breaking her to my will, but the idea of her submitting to my taming is arousing in a different way. Breaking the spirit of something fierce by force is a victory, but the willing submission of a woman like her comes with an even greater satisfaction.

And if she wants blood as part of that deal, I have no issue with that. I’m happy to give it to her. I might even drag some additional information out of those Crows, before they die.

When I’m done with her, I decide, as I pull a bottle of green juice out of the fridge, I’ll find somewhere else for her. Somewhere that she’ll be useful—doing something better than what her father had her doing. A position in one of my clubs, maybe, as a stage dancer if she’s capable of it, or working as a sex worker in one of my black-card clubs.

Something in my gut tightens at the thought of her servicing any man but me; my hand clenching around the bottle I’m holding.It’s just because you’re not finished with her,I tell myself, getting a glass down from the cupboard.There’s nothing deeper here.

That has to be it. I don’t want anyone else touching her because I haven’t had my fill. But I’ll tire of her eventually, and then I won’t care.

Caring, after all of that, would mean that I’ve developed deeper feelings for her. Feelings that I refuse to even begin to name, even in my head.

I loved a woman once. I never will again.

6

NICCI

It’s not until Savio closes the door behind him and locks it that I give in to the tremors that have been threatening to take my knees out from under me since my father walked in.

The moment I’m alone, I let myself collapse back against the bed, exhaustion washing over me, a tide of overwhelm threatening to drag me under. My clothes are gone. I’m alone. Savio’s instructions ring in my ears.

I can still taste him in the back of my throat, sharp and salty, my stomach churning. I have no idea if he’s going to feed me anything other than his cum today, but I do know that I don’t want to still be unshowered when he comes back. A flush creeps over my skin at the reminder that he won’t be bringing me any clothes, at least not until he decides there’s a goodreasonfor it.

This is a different kind of humiliation than what I experienced at the club. This is methodical—planned. Thisfeelslike ownership in a way that nothing that the men who came to the Lily could ever make me feel, and I realize that all this time, I’ve been dealing with amateurs.

Savio is something else. Calculating. Dangerous. Professional. A flicker of fear trickles through me, and I knowI need to be careful. My first impression of him as a wolf, as a predator, was right. If I’m not careful, he’ll eat me alive and throw away my corpse.

I’m nothing to him if I’m not useful. I shouldn’t expect sympathy or understanding. I’m here to answer his questions and provide him with pleasure, and if I fail at either of those, I won’t get what I want from him. What I’m realizing now that Ineed.

I hadn’t realized just how badly I needed it until it was said aloud. But now, the craving for revenge has burrowed into my bones. I’ve been hurting for so long, trapped and abused and used and manipulated. I want to take all of that pain and turn it outwards for the first time in my life. I wantthemto feel it, too.

Taking a deep breath, I start to head towards the bathroom. The wooden floor is cool under my bare feet, and I try to get used to the idea that I won’t be allowed clothing. Right now, it doesn’t feel so strange since I’m about to shower—but I’m sure it will.

The shower itself is a blissful relief. I turn the water on as hot as I can stand it and step under the spray, just standing there for a long time before I even start to make an attempt at washing myself. There are toiletries provided for me—shower gel and shampoo and conditioner—and I scrub myself until my skin is pink and raw, trying to get every bit of the club off of me. I don’t want anything left. I wash myself over and over, scrub my hair, until the heat burns away that sticky fake scent and all that’s left is the clean eucalyptus and jasmine scent of the soap.

I stay in the shower until the water runs cold and then finally get out, toweling myself dry. I’m tempted to wrap one of the huge, fluffy towels around myself in lieu of clothing, but I know better. A towel isn’t clothes, but I don’t think Savio will appreciate me testing the spirit of his instructions. He wants me naked until he deems otherwise, and I know that’s what this is about. Keeping me in my place. Vulnerable.

Stepping towards the fogged-over mirror, I wipe my hand across it, wincing as I see my reflection. With all of my makeup gone, the bruises across my face and body are easily visible. Some are darker than others—a few fading to yellow—but none of them can be hidden now. I don’t have anything to cover them with—no way to stop Savio from seeing them when he comes back to my room.

Maybe he won’t ask.It’s not as if he gives a shit about me. He’ll assume the bruises are from men at the club, and for some of them, he’ll even be right. I doubt he’ll care enough to even inquire, though.

I dig through the medicine and sink cabinets, looking to see what’s been provided for me. I find a hairbrush, a few packaged toothbrushes and toothpaste, mouthwash, and that’s it. No hairdryer—probably so I don’t electrocute myself as a way out of this—so I use a smaller towel to put my hair up on top of my head until it dries. I hate the feeling of wet hair clinging to my skin.

There’s nothing else to do but wait. As I walk back into the bedroom, the weight of what’s happened settles on my shoulders more heavily than before. There’s no television, no books. Someone came in while I was showering and changed the bedding, but other than that, nothing about the room is different, and it’s very bare. I wonder if Savio removed some things from the room, like a TV, to emphasize my captivity.

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