Page 57 of The Delta's Rogue
The female flinches and attempts to clamp her legs shut and back away. But the first witch splays her hand out into the air between them, a wicked grin forming on her lips. The female trembles as she fights the magical hold on her body, and the males flanking her laugh at her struggle. Except, I can’t hear their laughter. I can onlyseethem laughing.
The fragile witch drops her hand from the female’s crotch and murmurs to the other witch, who nods her response. The female is led through the door on the left side of the wall, and then the line moves forward.
The next female in line shakes so severely that her handlers have to wrap her arms around their shoulders and march her forward. She stumbles over her feet, and after five steps, their voices vanish.
That’s when I realize why I can’t hear anything.
The witch has crafted a sound barrier around them. They don’t want any of us to know what they’re asking. They don’t want us to have time to formulate lies. They want to catch us by surprise.
But I don’t need to hear their conversations, their questions, to know what they’re asking. There’s only one thing they truly care to know about us, one thing they’d go through all this trouble to find out.
The witches are checking to see if we’re virgins.
Minutes pass, and they repeat the same process: they ask the captured female questions, the younger witch touches her, and they send her through a door—some through the one on the left, others the right.
My heart erupts into a violent cadence, ricocheting off my insides. I swivel my head between the two doors. My feet move me forward even as every instinct in me warns me to run, to hide, to fight.
But I can’t. Their shackles and their drugs and their magic make that impossible. The only way out is through.
We are the stars. I promise I will find you.Te lo prometo.
With my heart in my throat, I stare straight ahead. My shoulders ache, fingers twitching from the angle of my arms, but I dare not roll them to ease the discomfort for fear of drawing attention to myself.
The line continues moving as, one by one, all the females are sent through one of the two doors. My heart pounds faster with the exit of each hostage as we draw closer to the witches.
Left. Left. Right. Left. Right. Right. Right.
“What do you think, Kanon?” Nuncio mutters when we’re almost at the front of the line. “Do you think our pretty prize is…pure? Do you think they’ll hide her away until she’s ready for auction?”
Kanon—Eye Patch—takes a step back to appraise me. He bites his lip, eyes lingering on my breasts. “Feisty thing like that?” he says, crossing his arms and widening his stance. “No way.” He shakes his head. “No, I bet she knows how to have and give a good time. She’ll be a fun toy to add to the collection at your club.”
Nuncio hums his response. His hand glides up and down the chain at my back, his knuckles almost—but not quite—brushing my skin.
Pendejo. I shudder and gulp as this asshole tugs on the chain, stepping so close that my head almost leans against his chest.
“I call first dibs if that’s the case.” His hot breath fans my ear. “I’m the one who found her, after all.” He pushes me forward as the female ahead of me is sent through the door on the left.
My eyes widen as their words hit me. The virgins will get auctioned off at a later date, but those who aren’t are the ones they send to their nasty clubs.
Nuncio places me in front of the witches.
My vision blurs, and my palms sweat. Every cell in my body is filled with anger, desperation, and exhaustion, setting my muscles trembling.
The witch from the van smiles at me before turning her attention to the males. “I trust your hands behaved themselves this time?” She raises her perfectly arched brows.
Nuncio grunts his response.
She smiles bigger. “Good.” Her focus hones in on me again, and she tucks my hair behind my ear before undoing my gag.
I gasp and stretch my mouth, shutting my eyes at the ache in my jaw.
“That’s it.” She strokes my hair and makes calming, shushing sounds.
I quiver in front of her and catch my breath. Tears line my eyes, brought on by the relief of having control of my mouth again.
She taps me under the chin. “Isn’t that so much better?”
I nod, responding to her question automatically even as my body revolts against her touch and phony sweetness.
