Page 56 of Cruel Master
Panicking over a gym bag makes me seem unstable. What if it gets out and someone in the Brotherhood uses it against me?
A few weeks ago, the thought wouldn’t even have crossed my mind. But the more glimpses I get of the Brotherhood’s inner workings through Kendrick’s remarks or Jacob’s loaded comments, the less I trust the organization as a whole. Jacob is a good man, and I believe Kendrick means well.
But for Kendrick, the Brotherhood will always come first. The good of the many and all that.
And there’s only one person here that I really care about.
“Everything’s good.”
I wish I could believe my own words.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Juliet
Islipthepaintbrushinto the vivarium so Charlie can start to get used to it. The book says it can take a while to gain a spider’s trust and be able to handle them. So why not start right away? She stays right where she is, frozen on the tip of a branch at the top of her tank.
Maybe she’s scanning for prey with her spidery senses. She won’t find any, of course. The only bugs here are the ones I have to feed her. Is it weird that I’d love to see even a rogue cockroach? A reminder that the outside world still exists, beyond Saldar and me.
Speaking of food, it’s time for Charlie’s dinner, so I pop a couple of the mealworms in with her, then pull away. She needs some peace and quiet to eat.
Saldar should be here soon. I hope he likes Charlie’s name. As soon as it came to me, it felt right.Charlotte’s Webwas one of my favorite books growing up, even though it made me cry every time.
I can’t stop wondering how he knew about my love of spiders. It makes no sense. It’s like he’s rummaging around in my brain, but mind reading isn’t a thing. Right? Sometimes it’s hard to keep that fact clear. Especially in this place, where he controls everything. Even the bugs.
The lights go out, throwing me into pitch black.
I jump, but the moment of fright passes quickly. He’s been doing this a lot lately for some reason, coming to me in the dark. I take up my assigned position—kneeling, hands behind my back. Sick anticipation shivers over my body. Lights out means playtime, and I’m not complaining.
The door clicks.
I wait, tension spiralling through me, until Saldar’s hands settle around my arms, and he guides me to my feet. I go with him, a willing puppet, leaning into the physical contact. “Over here, doll. The altar. On your back, and spread your legs for me.”
He helps me onto it, and I follow his instructions. This could be good or bad. He snaps my ankles into the restraints, then does the same with my wrists, and even after all this time—however long it’s been—I still shiver at the exposure. At the helplessness of being tied like this.
I’ve always loved the feel of being trapped in place, even though it terrifies me at the same time. I never know what Saldar will do next, and little tingles run over my skin as I wait in the pitch dark. Will he give me pleasure or pain? Both?
Time passes with neither, and I start to fidget. This is new, and I don’t like it. It gives me time to notice the little things that disappear when he touches me. I’ve got an itch right in the small of my back, and shifting around does little to help. The blanket underneath me is bunched under my ass cheek.
I contemplate opening my mouth to ask what the hell is going on but strike that idea right away. This is probably a test of patience, and I don’t want to fail.
When he finally touches me, I don’t bother to hold in my sigh of relief. I’ve long since given up trying to deny the effect he has on me. What would be the point? He traces his fingers over my body in a pattern that’s become familiar, starting at my breasts and moving down in slow, teasing circles.
He doesn’t speak, and I drift in pitch-black silence, lost in the sensations. By the time he reaches my inner thighs, I’m squirming. This is going to be one of the good days. I can feel it.
Then a man’s sigh breaks the silence, and it’s a bolt of sizzling electricity. I tense and strain my eyes in the dark, but it does me no good.
A man’s sigh. Not Saldar’s distorted voice. I’ve learned every sound that can make its way through the mask, and that sigh isn’t one of them. It was human. Different. Not Saldar.
Red-hot panic grips me and I yank on my restraints. Has someone else gotten in here? Has Saldar let them in? But no. Those were his hands touching me. I’m sure of it.
“Shhhhhhhhh.” It’s a low, drawn-out sound, punctuated by his hand sliding up to cup my face. Not Saldar’s voice. But very, very familiar. It’s yanking at my brain. What the fuck? What the actual fuck?
I stare into nothing, and all at once, it’s not quite nothing. Light, slowly but surely, fills the cell. I try to focus as the man leaning over me comes into view, at first just a shadowed outline. A human outline. No mask, no cloak. Just a man, with a broad, bare chest and—
No.
I close my eyes and shake myhead.
