Page 47 of Monsters Carve Thrones
Riley smirked. “Don’t get carried away,” she said, turning for the door. “Waylonlikesher pretty. Put your dick anywhere in her, and he’ll rip it off and gut you with it.” She left without another word, the door slamming behind her.
Silence fell.
I stood there, bare and vulnerable, breathing hard through my nose. The men stared. Their eyes were hungry, their smiles sickening.
One stepped forward. “She said we couldn’t put our dicksinher,” he said.
I didn’t look away or flinch. I stepped into the shower slowly, letting the water hide me.
The shower pole was cold against my skin as they cuffed my wrists to it–arms raised, body exposed. I kept my face still, but inside, everything screamed. Not from shame. Not even fear.
From fury.
One of them stepped in, taller than the others, broad through the shoulders, with a smirk carved into his face like it had always been there. He held a bar of soap in one hand, a washcloth in the other, as though this was routine.
“You don’t get to act shy,” he said, voice low and greasy. “You’re property now.”
He started to scrub my arms, my shoulders, my back. Hard, like I was something dirty that needed to be scoured clean. His fingers weren’t careful. They dipped where they shouldn’t, lingered where they weren’t welcome. I flinched once, and only once, then locked myself into stillness.
The other two stood by the wall, laughing, their eyes glued to me like I was a show they’d paid for.
“What’s your name?” I asked suddenly, loud enough to carry over the water. I looked straight at the man touching me.
He blinked, thrown. “What?”
“Your name. You’ve got hands on me. Seems fair I know who you are before I gut you.”
That made the other two snort, but the one inside the shower with me leaned closer, his breath hot against my cheek. “Derek. That’s all you get.”
“Good,” I said.
His face twitched into a smirk. I cataloged every detail. The scar on the left one’s chin. The cigarette burn on Derek’s wrist. The way the last one, Jason, was inching his way closer.
Derek suddenly squeezed the washcloth clean and tossed it to the side. His blue eyes narrowed on my lips as his fingers ventured between my thighs. Instantly, I jerked away from him, the cuffs digging into my wrists.
“Your body is fucking amazing,” he murmured, dipping his middle finger inside of me. I refused to cry. With his other hand, he unbuckled his pants.
“What are you doing, dude?” Jason asked, his voice rising an octave like he was scared Riley would come back.
“Notputting my dickinher,” he answered, kissing my neck as his finger sank in deeper. I bit back an insult. I knew I should probably behave considering I was naked and handcuffed in a fucking shower. “Waylon won’t know. I’ll wash her off.”
Menacing smirks formed on the other men’s faces as they watched Derek tease himself against my thigh, uncomfortably close to their forbidden zone. Derek’s mouth found my breast, sucking while he touched me with one hand and stroked himself with the other.
I stared at the ceiling, disappearing into myself for a moment. At least it was only his fingers. It only took a few minutes for Derek to finish on my inner thigh.
“God, I wish you weren’t spoken for, pretty angel,” he rasped, tucking himself back into his pants. “Come on, guys. Want in?”
I sighed heavily.God dammit.Being a woman involved with criminals and the filthiest men of the underworld, this kind of shit was always expected at some point. So I endured while the other two did the same. This was already so stupid.
Derek threw gray sweatpants and a lacy white tank at me. I dressed, ready to face whatever hell Waylon had planned for me. And I stared down these men as they dropped me off at my cell. Because when the time came, I’d make sure they didn’t just die.
They’d rememberwhy.
Chapter 9
RAFE
(TW: Graphic sexual assault)
