Page 85 of Voracious

No. It would bring back the memories, and I whisper back, “It’s sad that they took something that makes people happy and twisted it.”

His mumble is distorted through the mask, and I can only pick up the word sweet.He doesn’t normally eat sweet foods, but he must be hungry, so I ask, “Do you want cake?”

His mask covers his lips like mine does, but I hear the soft laugh hit the material as he strokes up my back.

“I’ll get you one to celebrate when we get the fuck out of here.”

I nod and he grips my nape as he whispers in my ear, “Do you see her?”

I slowly scan the room, pausing when I see Rowan. The slimy bastard. How isn’t he dead yet? There must be a long line of capable people who want him dead. Dima turns rigid, going alert and following my gaze as Rowan turns so he’s fully in the shadows. The cunt must have a pact with whoever is worse than the devil because his eyes lock on to us. I’m accustomed to the predator; I grew up with him in the house, so I know what he’s doing despite Dima’s confusion.

“Who can you see?”

I’m glad the mask covers my full face because I can’t hide my hate as I arch my back and turn so dickface Rowan can see the scars. The sick fuck will be smiling at them, and I rush out, “Use me. I trust you.”

Dima doesn’t move and I dig my nails into the side of his thigh. Rowan will get me closer to TRR, I’m sure he owns it or it’s one of the businesses he’s managed to take control over. Dima snatches my throat, there’s no pressure against my windpipe and he hides his flattened fingers behind my hair.

“Remember it’s me, I won’t hurt you and we can leave any time, lisichka.”

I write yes on his thigh, and he relaxes slightly as he roughly pushes me to my knees and widens his legs. The napkin holder falls to the floor as he knocks his knee into the table, and he doesn’t look at me as he says, “Push them into your boots.”

Is he stealing napkins? He has money so I don’t know why he needs to, until he turns his head to me and pulls me up so I’m hovering. “For your knees so it doesn’t hurt.”

Oh, he’s not trying to save money.

Discreetly doing as instructed, the black tissue blends into my boots as I push them through the gap around my thighs.

“Undo my belt, make your fingers shake.”

I know he doesn’t like this, but gratitude takes over because he’s doing this to help me. The back of my head burns as Rowan’s sadistic fucking eyes focus on us and I force a tremor into my limb as I tilt my shoulders, making sure the scar tissue is in full view of the freak. Ants travel down my spine and I can feel another set of eyes join as Dima’s low warning gives me time to react and be at ease.

“Move your head when I grab your scalp.”

Threading his fingers through my hair, he doesn’t pull, and I yank my own head back to see Rowan stood with two other people. I can’t see their faces due to the shadows, but the cufflinks sparkle in the low lights. Fuck! The cursive 3 gives them away but there’s only one of them wearing them. The woman taps the sharp point of her heel off the floor twice before she crosses her ankles. His assistant always used to do that fucking move.

That stupid cunt is still alive?

She was supposed to be dead. I burnt her too and I can’t remember if she could get out of the room because I had to run when her annoying fucking screaming woke everyone up, but I’m sure she died. It stank and she wasn’t put in the doctor’s room with me when my burns were treated. I’m trying to work out the chances of someone having the same idiosyncrasies as Rowan’s assistant who is supposed to be fucking dead when my head is turned and Dima stares into my eyes. His voice is low with a plea working between each word.

“You’ve got to talk to me, B, I can’t seeyou.”

It’s too complicated to explain how Rowan uses an assessor to examine the children before he buys them, that she would walk with a clipboard, clicking her heels in that same way as shemarked a sheet and then tallied their worthiness to him, so I keep my voice low as I fight the urge to stare into the shadows again.

“Later, promise.”

He traces the pattern of a tick against my nape and my gratitude grows when he softly says, “Close your eyes, lisichka, remember I respect and adore you.”

The words have barely left his mouth when my lashes slam shut, and I flinch, playing the part as he wraps his hand around my neck, roughly pulling me forward to his crotch to rub my face against his dick. I hold his ankle that’s hidden from the sick fucks and gently squeeze, letting him know I’m okay, that I trust him, I know he won’t hurt me, and this isn’t really him.

Spit lands against the mask as I’m pushed back, and he taps the edge of his foot against the table leg to make it seem like I’ve hit my head. I’m kept on my knees by my neck with an apology in my direction.

“I’m sorry, beautiful.”

Dima is too nice. I know why he did it, it’s the first thing that got the announcer excited on the live stream. My voice is low as I look at him and there’s nothing but conviction in it.

“I trust you, it’s okay.”

His thumb presses against the bottom of the mask and he guides my head to lay on his thigh, blocking them from seeing my face and the truth.He pretends again even though he knows I don’t have an issue with him, and I’ll open my mouth if he unzips, but his arm covers the view of my face from all angles, and I lean forward, kissing over the bulge as he tightens his hold on my neck while Rowan and his noncey friends can only see my back and the mirage of me choking. I’m smiling up at Dima when he gently traces my lips and sits taller, the movement has my face pressed against his groin and he groans, “If you everdecide to wrap this smile around me it’s not going to be around these cunts.”

---