Page 32 of Scarlet Mark
“Did you hear me?” Boris demanded, his breath hot on the back of my neck as he wrapped his arm around my waist, yanking me backward. “A slut in white is my favorite, Amara. Do you think Malcom will allow me a little taste before the vows? Or do you think he’ll share you tonight?”
Bile lined my throat. Malcom loved a good celebration. He no doubt had something vile planned with me being the centerpiece. Or maybe he’d bring in some of his other girls for playtime.
I didn’t know.
Didn’t care.
Because I’d be long gone before the festivities began.
“Boris.” The familiar voice made me think of nails on a chalkboard. It haunted my existence, reminded me of a life I’d rather forget. “You need to leave her alone before someone sees. You can play later.”
The woman who pretended to be my mother came to stand at my side, her gray eyes aging at the sides despite the copious amounts of Botox she received.
“Yeah, yeah.” He bit the back of my neck before releasing me. “Be a good girl, Amara. Think of me.”
I ignored him, knowing it would infuriate him. But one cool glance from Clarissa Rose sent his boots shuffling backward.
No one argued with the Madam. Not in this world.
“You shouldn’t antagonize him,” she chastised.
Yes, because existing was my fault. Instead of voicing my opinion, I merely smiled. “He likes it.”
She smirked. “Probably true.” She turned to face me, her blonde hair perfectly styled, as always. “You really have turned out perfectly, darling Amara. I couldn’t be more proud.”
I shook off the memory, a vision of Clarissa’s bloody face vibrant in my thoughts. A fantasy I’d long coveted that had yet to become a reality. But one day, I’d kill her.
And her poor excuse of a husband, too.
“Are you going to behave for me, Amara?” Killian asked as he pulled off the highway toward what appeared to be a city.
“Where would I go?” I countered. I had no idea where we were, having lost consciousness for who knew how long on our drive out of Berlin.
“Not far,” he assured me. “But if you cause a scene when we arrive, you will regret it.”
“Threats seem pretty irrelevant at this point, don’t you think?” I side-eyed him. “I mean, we both know you’re already planning to torture me, Killian.” Because I had no intention oftalking,like he suggested. He thought he wanted to know, but he didn’t. No one wanted to play in the knowledge of my mind.
He didn’t deny it, navigating the streets with ease and pulling up in front of a building. Killian unbuckled himself and leaned into my personal space—an easy feat considering the small interior of the sports car.
“I do intend to torment you, Amara. Thoroughly,” he whispered against my ear. “But I need something to eat first.” He nipped my earlobe and grabbed a box from behind my seat.
There were two.
I knew because I’d tried to open them both while he was outside the car.
“Don’t move, Amara,” he said, opening his door to greet the approaching valet in fluent German.
I considered disobeying him and exiting the car, just to see what he’d do. But I decided not to push him. That dangerous aura hadn’t abated in the slightest, which told me he was still in a killing mood. And while I wanted to play, I also didn’t want to die.
He handed over the keys before grabbing my bag from the trunk and walked around to finally allow me out of the car. I followed mutely as he led me into the opulent lobby. He kept talking about food, yet this was a hotel. A fancy one.
“Hold this,” he said, handing me the box. My bag hung from his shoulder.
A woman from the reception desk waved us over, but he merely nodded at her as he lifted a phone to his ear.
“Wyatt, I need a favor” was his greeting. “Yeah, yeah, add it to my tab. I’m in one of your hotels in Leipzig. Can you get me a room under an alias?”
He paused, smirking.
