Page 84 of The Delta's Rogue
I stretch my legs out in front of me again, resigning myself to this potentially disastrous decision. “You said you can help me contact them. How?”
Her eyes sparkle, and she sits up straighter. “I have an idea, but it will require some cooperation and sacrifices on your part.”
“What do you mean?”
“Play Amara’s game. Let her mold you and train you. Pretend she’s broken you.”
“But then they’ll auction me off.”
She nods. “Yes.”
My heart skips a beat. “You want me to let them?”
She leans forward conspiratorially. “For my plan to work, weneedyou to let them.”
“Have you thought aboutwhat I said?”
I lift my eyes to meet Brenna’s in the mirror, but her focus is on her fingers running through the strands of my hair, using her magic to curl it into large, bouncy, glamorous waves. It’s voluminous and heavy, hanging down to my butt now after Amara told Brenna to alter it, but even with the extra length and weight, the spell she uses to set the curls lasts the entire day.
She didn’t stay long last night after she planted the seed of her plan in my mind. She packed up her cart—and the robe she let me wear while she was in my room—and rechained me to the bed, leaving me alone with her words repeating in my head all night.
But this morning, after she unchained me, she stayed in the bedroom and let me bathe myself. I reveled in the privacy, devouring it like it was a last meal—leaning my head against the rim of the tub and letting my body float in the warm, sudsy water for longer than necessary—while Brenna painted the illusion that she was bathing me as usual. The heat soothed my soul and muscles, both worn out from the constant stream of limited freedom I’ve experienced since arriving here.
I fidget with the sleeves of my robe—the same ivory one she brought to me last night. The silk is smooth against my skin. I can tell it’s expensive by the density of the fabric and the quality of the weave. This one piece of clothing probably costs more than all the clothing I’ve owned over the last few years combined.
The opulence on display in this place is sickening, and all of it is funded by auctioning off females and their virginity.
“I’ve thoughtabout it.” I brush off her question with faux nonchalance.
Of course I’ve thought about it. It’s all I can think about. Even in my sleep, Brenna’s plan plagued my dreams.
Pretend to break. Let them place me on the auction roster. Everything in me rebels against that idea. Submitting to them, even though it would be pretend, goes against all my instincts.
I’m terrified it will taint all my memories of my days with Sebastian.
He taught me so much, not only about the lifestyle but about myself and what I need from my partner. Even though he dominated me during our time together, there wasn’t an imbalance of power. We were equals. He had the control because I gave it to him, but I could take it back in a heartbeat. All I needed to do was use my safe word.
These people… They won’t allow me that net of safety. Once I hand over the reins, there is no going back. I am theirs—their toy, their doll—until my people can rescue me.
Ifthey can rescue me.
We’re pinning an awful lot on an “if”.
“You need to decide.” She curls the last section of my hair. “The sooner they’re ready to auction you, the sooner we can contact your people, and the sooner they can rescue you. I can only sneak you food for so long before someone notices.”
My stomach gurgles at her words—a stark reminder of my circumstances. I pull my lips into my mouth and nod. “Lo sé,” I whisper. “I know.”
“It’s time to go.”
I struggle to stand, knees wobbly and muscles quivering and achy. The simple meal she brought me held me over for most of the night, but the emptiness it left behind once digested is worse than the hunger I felt before I ate. The room spins, but I breathe through the dizziness and lightheadedness, drawing on the last of my strength as I remove the robe.
Brenna snatches it and shoves it into a vanity drawer, then meets my eyes in the mirror again. “I still have to use your blood,” she warns.
I don’t respond. I brace myself, preparing for the onslaught of tiny electric shocks circulating through my bloodstream, puppeteering my body. The pinpricks pulse through me in time with my heart at first before they gain speed. Then I’m placing one foot in front of the other, carrying myself through the room and towards the door. But the magic is not aspowerful as before.
Brenna presses her thumb to the pad to unlock the door. “She’s going to make me take more of your blood today.”
“¿Más sangre?” I grit out through my teeth.
