Sucking in a huge gust of air, Mr. Prest scrubbed his face. “Drop your arms, let me see.”

I obeyed immediately.

He wanted to terrorise himself further by looking upon my grotesqueness?

Be my guest.

A few seconds ticked past as his eyes roamed over me. Finally, he whispered, “You’re more black than white and more blue than healthy pink, but you’re not shy about revealing it.”

Shy?

It wasn’t about shyness.

It was about knowing my place and doing what I was told.

I did what you requested!

This man had no notion of the rules and laws I lived in. He didn’t have experience dealing with bought creatures.

That soothed my rage a little, knowing I might be the worse he’d ever seen, but he wasn’t the worst I’d ever encountered.

“What happened to you?” His voice dropped to arctic levels.

My nipples stiffened at the chill while his scorching eyes heated me.

Did he expect me to tell him when the answers were all around him?

Stupid man.

“Silence won’t save you from me, Pimlico.” Mr. Prest pushed off his knees, reclining on the bed again. His head rested against the headboard, his motions smooth and unhurried. Never taking his attention off me, he straightened his legs and with nimble fingers unbuckled his trousers.

I swallowed hard.

The soft clink of the metal buckle sounded loud as he tossed the ends of his belt to opposite sides and popped the button before the harsh rasp of a zipper being undone filled the room. “You think I won’t touch you just because I’ve seen your injuries?”

My heart took control, bellowing my lungs like a blacksmith forging steel.

“You think I’m a nice guy who will treat you with more respect than the men who marked you?” He pulled the waistband of black boxer-briefs from his tattooed stomach, inserting his right hand into their depths. His jaw clenched as his hips arched a little, granting some slack for his fingers to wrap around himself.

The way his face etched with deep concentration and his teeth imprisoned his lip was the hottest thing I’d seen since I’d been murdered and sold.

“I’m not.” His tongue swiped where his teeth had bitten. “I’m not someone you can fuck around. When I ask for something, I expect to get it. Immediately.”

A sudden wash of fear and rebellion crashed over me as his hand shifted in his trousers.

“You have a choice. Give me what I want or I’ll take what I want.” He smiled harshly, his eyes flicking around the room as if expecting company at any moment. “Your pick.”

I blinked.

I didn’t understand this new game. He’d already told me my bruises changed everything—that he no longer wanted me. He could’ve taken me the moment he’d stolen me, so why threaten me with sex when he would rather be in a different bed with a different girl?

My chin pressed against my sternum, doing my best to delete such puzzlement.

“Look at me.” His voice turned gruff as his hand moved, whispering with sin.

Pinching my thighs to retain some sort of dignity, I did as he requested. This time, I couldn’t stop my fascination as I drank all of him. From the way his lips glittered, to his stomach rising and falling and his dragon twisting beneath the optical illusion of rib bones.

“Remember, what I do, you do.”

My mouth parted in shock.

He…he wants me to touch myself?

I’d never touched myself.

First, because a strict mother, who barged into my room at all hours with no care for my privacy, raised me, and second, because I lived with a master who made me despise all nether regions.

Why would I want to touch myself?

Why molest that part of me when it was molested far too often already?

He bit his lip again, this time sucking the wet flesh into his mouth as his arm bunched. “Do you want me to treat you like a whore? You’d rather obey demeaning demands than answer a few simple questions?” His voice gruffed to a growl. “You’ll learn to make better choices soon enough.”

Our eyes locked before a panic attack latched onto my lungs like a parasite. I can’t believe I felt safer with this man—that I thought he was different.

His face clenched with frustration as I dropped my eyes, letting him have authority.

“Tell me where you came from. Tell me who stole you and how Alrik ended up with you. Give me that and I’ll wrap you in your bed sheet and protect you for the remaining hours we have together. Don’t answer and you’ll wish you had.”

I trembled, hating the way my back rolled on its own accord, making me smaller, tighter—invisible.

Time stretched onward.

Finally, he sighed heavily. “Is talking worth that much to you?” He jerked his hand from his trousers. “In that case…let’s see how much your voice is worth when everything else is on the line.”

I WAS MANY things, but an abuser, rapist, and fucking bastard were not part of my abundant faults and flaws.

Yes, I’d entered Alrik’s house ready to take what belonged to him.

Yes, I’d had impure intentions of using her for my pleasure.

I’d even convinced myself she wasn’t my problem—just a sweetener to our business deal.

But then she’d taken off her dress.

And I just couldn’t fucking do it.

How could I get hard over a girl who had so much strength in her heart but so much abuse painted on her skin? Her silence wasn’t the defiance I believed. Her muteness wasn’t courage or guts. It was the only damn thing she had left.