Page 83 of Scarlet Mark
My version of a hero.
My…love.
Amara
Itouched the black feathered mask hiding my cheekbones and forehead, barely recognizing myself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. The woman staring back at me resembled a stranger with her freshly dyed black hair and brown contacts. But I recognized the body beneath the formfitting gown as mine, just as I knew the man beside me.
Killian wore an ebony suit, no tie, and a matching mask. It covered more of his face than the one he wore to the masquerade gala, the requirements for tonight’s event being more about concealing one’s identity than having fun in the name of charity.
Something told me Jefferson’s choice of gala theme had been a throwback to his preferred circle of deviance—the one surrounding us now.
Killian’s palm burned against my lower back, the cut of my dress leaving my entire spine exposed. It was par for the course in this crowd—the more seductively elegant, the better. And we needed to blend in.
He guided us past the mirror-lined entryway into one of the many living areas inside Clarissa and Geoff’s estate. This was the Massachusetts residence I grew up in, the one that provided an opulent appearance on the upper levels and a dungeon beneath.
I’d provided Killian with a detailed layout of the property, and also expectations for tonight. Then his hacker friend had worked some magic to get us on the invite list.
Tonight we were known as Mr. and Mrs. Daggerington—a recently wed couple, with Killian being in business mergers and acquisitions. Raven manufactured a background that included a few details about our darker bedroom behaviors to suggest our purpose here. Just enough to provide Clarissa with the blackmail she required to grant us entry. Because that was what she cared about most—her ability to control the products on display and the clients purchasing them. It was how she safeguarded her lucrative business.
Which meant everyone in this room was a deviant.
Not that I needed to know that detail to determine their natures. It was written in the way they interacted with tonight’s auction items.
Most of the girls had guards who helped maintain a strict “look, but don’t touch” policy.
The remaining women weren’t as fortunate. They resembled the used-and-returned goods and were up for purchase again. Which meant they could be borrowed and played with by the consumers in the room as a sort of sick and twisted trial run before tonight’s auction began.
And several were taking advantage of the testing period right now.
Girls were surrounded, being forced to perform unspeakable sexual acts that made my stomach churn.
That used to be me.
Although, not nearly as wretched. I was passed around a few parties like this, but Clarissa always required me to remain clothed. Albeit scandalously, but it kept the men from sticking things inside me. Like their cocks.
I shivered. Too many memories of my previous life hung in this place. I wanted to burn it to the ground, destroy it all.
To never hear any of those screams again, or the gagging…
Fuck.
A heavy sense of foreboding hit me, a reminder that this could have become my future under Malcom’s harsh rule. His private affairs were usually smaller, with no more than a few friends, but had he ever tired of me, this was what I’d have been returned to.
Killian’s lips brushed my pulse, ever aware of my reactions and thoughts. “You okay, kitten?” he asked against my ear.
I nodded. While I felt ill, I was still controlling it.
The last two months with him had taught me so much about myself. I’d always been a fighter with a strong will to survive. However, Killian helped me learn how to sharpen that will into a lethal weapon, one I intended to use tonight.
I turned to look up at him, running my fingers over his cheek and down his neck, my signal to him that I could handle this. That Iwashandling it. He angled his head to nip the pad of my index finger, his lips curling.
Despite all the sounds of sick depravity shadowing this room, that smile had my heart skipping a beat in anticipation. Tonight, I would have my vengeance.
I lifted onto my toes—my four-inch stilettos not giving me enough height—and pressed my mouth to his. To an onlooker, it would appear I was aroused by the sights of the room. But Killian would understand my true intent.
Thank you for being here.
I can do this.
