Page 7 of Incandescence

The bathroom door crashed open. I jerked back, crossing an arm over my breasts as I covered the triangle of my pussy with my other hand.

Alexander stood staring at me, at first in confused relief, then for a fleeting moment, in undisguised lust.

My shocked gasp was more from the stirring of my own desire than the hunger in his eyes. “Get out!”

He didn’t move. “What the hell is going on with you?” he muttered. His frown dulled the glint in his stare by the barest amount. “Why aren’t you screaming for my master’s blood?”

A sudden cramping pain knotted in my belly, as thought he’d reminded me of a base need. I resisted pressing a fist against my midsection and focused on my breathing.In. Out. In. Out.I stared back at him. “Get out,” I repeated coldly.

He dragged a hand over his face, weariness evident in his pinched features. “If only it was that simple,” he conceded softly, making me aware he too wished he really could walk away and never come back. Making me also aware he wasn’t wholly brainwashed. He didn’t just crave his master’s blood—he craved freedom too.

I quashed any sympathy for him, like he’d quashed any for the victims his master had ruthlessly exploited and killed. He didn’t deserve my pity or my compassion.

He exhaled roughly and placed neatly folded clothes on the basin. “Something for you to wear.” He stared at me again, as though I was a beautiful mystery he’d yet to solve. Then his eyes dulled, sadness radiating from him as he rasped, “Master will be pleased with you.”

I gaped. And as he closed the door behind him with a decisive click, I screamed out,

“Master can go fuck himself!”

Chapter Five

Alexander

Iwatched the zombifiedchef stack the empty dishes and cutlery onto the food trolley before he wheeled it back into the elevator. The huge guard who’d acted as the lookout at the doors then stepped inside with him.

I felt almost as indifferent when the doors closed behind them. I’d long ago been rid of any desire to escape. Even less so now that my thoughts were centered on Maya.

I ran a hand over my face. She was a little more than a stranger and yet she was already worming past my defenses, already making me long for things I could never have.

A relationship. Mutual desire. Love.

I’d experienced nothing close to those yearnings for my other playthings. I frowned at the word I’d adopted so easily from my master. They hadn’t been my playthings. They’d been women with mothers and fathers, with families who would never know what fate had befallen them.

Perhaps it was best they didn’t.

Guilt shafted through me. It was those same women I’d experienced little more toward than physical release, along with a vague despair at what I’d become. But survival was all I had known. I couldn’t afford to get attached to someone I’d likely lose all too soon.

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