Page 138 of Born in Depravity

He moved closer to me.

“No, you don’t do that. You belong to me, so you’re going to walk out of there with your head held high.”

Kind of hard to do when you’re collared.

He leaned down and kissed me.

I was so surprised over the kiss, I didn’t even have time to close my eyes before he pulled away. I had to force myself to stop from following his lips with my own.

I was pathetic.

“Let’s go,” he said gruffly.

I was glad he didn’t yank on the leash. Or lead me by it. Small blessings, I supposed. But I walked behind him, and when we crossed over the threshold and Damien closed the door to the room behind us, I clutched the back of his shirt.

He turned his head slightly to look at me, but otherwise didn’t say anything. He led me downstairs.

The whole thing didn’t feel real.

I felt like I was watching this unfold outside my body, and perhaps a sort of numbness had settled in, and that was probably why I didn’t react to what I saw.

It seemed like there was a party going on, but this wasn’t the kind of party I would ever want to go to.

It was obvious at first sight, who was here willingly—or at the very least, who had power—and who wasn’t.

Mostly the women.

Just one look at them and I knew they weren’t here willingly, and it had nothing to do with their dead, expressionless eyes.

They were collared as well.

I swallowed, trying to force the bile from clawing its way out of my throat, and moved closer to Damien, my fist tightening around his shirt.

What kind of party was this?

Damien stopped, and I didn’t notice in time. I ran into his back. He turned and steadied me, and I focused on his touch to keep myself grounded, otherwise I would lose it completely.

He took me in.

I blinked away the moisture from my eyes, and his jaw clenched. I didn’t want to make him mad or disappointed, but fuck, this was too much. I didn’t want to see the terrible people Damien associated himself with, but most of all, I didn’t want to see the women in the same sad, broken situation I was in.

He cursed softly under his breath.

“I’m taking you back to the room. We’re not putting up with this whole charade anymore.”

Was he mad at me?

I grabbed his forearm, wanting to tell him I was sorry, but the words would not come. He placed his hand on top of mine.

“I’m not angry at you, pet. I’m angry at myself.”

What did that mean?

Before he could say anything, Nikolay walked up to us. He was dressed more casually than Damien, in dark jeans and his signature fitted black tee that showed off his bulky frame. He took one look at me and his expression mirrored Damien’s.

“Seriously?” he asked Damien.

“I know. I’m taking her back into the room.”

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