Page 52 of Chain Me
One of the shadowy guests raised his hand.
“Two years,” he declared as casually as if bargaining with play money. Not time.
“A fair start. Any other takers?” Saskia wondered.
Another man raised his hand. “Ten,” he said. “For this one and that one.” He pointed to another girl. “Each.”
“Ah!” Beaming, Saskia clasped her hands together, her demeanor shifting into that of an expert saleswoman. “And what about this charming girl. I must admit I’m not too fond of this ‘aesthetic,’ but she is lovely, isn’t she? Do I hear an offer?”
With every second I watched the twisted event unfold, the more numb I felt. My eyes were fixated on the women, refusing to leave them for an instant. Did they even care that years of their lives were being bought and sold around them?
Apparently not. Each one faced the room with little expression. None flinched. Squirmed. Whimpered. Not even as one of the “guests” stepped forward to claim his prize. He was tall, unnervingly handsome, with eyes so amber that they bordered on ruby.
“Congratulations.” Saskia crooned. “She’s all yours, though, as per custom, you are allowed a taste before finalizing. Here.” She snatched the girl’s wrist, extending it.
In response, the man bared his fangs before lowering his head. As the ivory tips sank into her flesh, the girl gasped. But not in pleasure.
She wrenched her arm away, coming to life with another hollow cry. “N-No!” Her eyes blinked rapidly as if she were waking up from a dream. Whatever she saw made her face pale and her eyes widen with horror. “No! No! Let me go! Let me go!”
The man withdrew, his gaze questioning.
Saskia merely sighed and snapped her fingers. As if from nowhere, two men swooped from the shadows and grabbed the girl on either side. Within seconds, she had vanished, though her cries were still audible, echoing off the walls.
“Let me go! Where am I? Let me go!”
“Our new policy requires that we recruit a different breed,” Saskia admitted. She flicked the hair of another woman, who remained unmoving despite the commotion.
And their blank expressions took on a more sinister meaning.
“These girls are a bit more skittish and might require a…softer touch. But they are yours alone to break. Do I hear another offer?”
I turned, moving blindly, my stomach heaving. Logic and self-preservation vanished. I could only cover my mouth, solely focused on finding somewhere—anywhere else.
“Don’t,” Raphael snapped, his voice ringing with authority. “Saskia will attend to her. You and I have a private matter to discuss. Did you truly think I wouldn’t realize who you were looking for? The witch. Even though you’ve pretended not to all this time, you’ve believed in his curse. Haven’t you? I assume that is the reason you ran, the moment I tested that so-called superstition…”
I should have gone back—but a gag ripped from my chest and I raced down the hall until I found an empty room. The next second I was on my hands and knees, vomiting onto polished wood. The gleaming surface displayed my reflection in mocking relief—wide-eyed, frantic. Pathetic. Guilty.
Even now, faint cries echoed off the walls, and I hunched over in shame. That poor girl.
All of them.
They were here because of me.
“Oh, do get a hold of yourself, darling.”
Stiletto heels stabbed the floor in tandem as someone advanced on my position. Cloying perfume flooded my nostrils even before a pair of pale legs appeared within my line of sight.
“We all know that Dublin is besotted by the innocent-little-girl act,” Saskia harrumphed. “But my God is it tiring! Though I must thank you. Even with that goddamn necklace, he’s easier to read now than ever. Shall I share?” She giggled maniacally. “He was always surly before, but now? His thoughts are so devious that deciphering them is child’s play. Hungry. Lustful. All those things he acted soabovefeeling before. All because of you.”
She crouched down and tapped my chin with the tip of a pointed fingernail.
“He thinks about fucking you,” she explained, her lips quirked. “And not in any romantic, poetic sense. You’re but a trophy to him. He relives corrupting you over and over. How you felt. Your delicate little body shuddering beneath his. How you squirmed and flinched with every thrust. He felt so powerful then. It’s rather hilarious.”
My cheeks burned at the picture she’d painted. Nothing in the world felt more violating than having those words flung in my face.
“Or pathetic, actually. He hates you. Despises you. Craves you. Obsesses. It’s madness, really. One might think the man had never been laid before.” She sighed and pulled her hand away. “But you know what really gets his cold heart pumping?”
She waited as if expecting an answer. Then she chuckled.
