Diamond kisses, p.11
Diamond Kisses, page 11
I wanted to tell him what Faiza had told me.
I wished I could tell him that the jewels—those incredibly brave jewels who we’d tried and failed to save—might end up saving us…but I couldn’t.
He frowned as waitstaff appeared and cleared away dessert plates smeared with cheesecake crumbs and berry coulis. Soon, we would get our rations. A small offering consisting of leftovers.
“Gentlemen.” Victor stood with a sharp clap of his hands. He shot me a look and shook his head as if he knew my inner thoughts and tasted my quickest flush of faith.
And in a single instant, he murdered all that newfound hope. Stomped over all my optimism and reminded me all over again that this was hell and he was the fucking devil.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed that there hasn’t been a show tonight.” Victor nodded at his guests.
“The entertainment in here is failing, Vic,” someone snickered.
“That better be in jest, Harold.” Victor narrowed his eyes. “But in case it’s not, allow me to deliver tonight’s ‘entertainment’.” Snapping his fingers, he waited as staff fanned out around the room, delivering a box to each Master.
Not another game.
Please, no—
If they shot Henri with paintballs again…
A rumble of intrigue crept around the ballroom as each man opened the box and pulled out a whip.
My heart leapt into my throat.
I glanced at Henri.
He hadn’t moved from Victor’s table. Kneeling beside Rachel who sat in a chair, huddled and hating everything. Her dark blue silk dressing gown gaped over her ample cleavage as she wrapped her arms around herself.
Henri didn’t move. Didn’t look at me. He kept his gaze firmly, safely, on the floor.
“Friends,” Victor preened, fanning his arms and bowing his head like a mad duke. “I’m aware you’ve all become a little testy with the fact that I’ve been busy training my new jewel with methods that are…unavailable to you.”
For God’s sake.
Was there nothing this man didn’t see?
So he had seen the Masters’ snide glances and whispers. Had he seen the jewels scurrying about too? Was all of this yet another game to him, waiting to see who would bumble right into his latest sticky trap?
Fear prickled down my spine. Goosebumps erupted across my arms.
Striding toward Henri, Victor ordered, “On the stage, my pet. Quickly now. You wouldn’t want me to put Ily in your place, would you?”
Without a word, Henri climbed to his feet and walked naked up the steps to the pole where he’d hung that first morning.
“Chain him, if you please.” Victor smiled at a guard and looked back at the crowd.
I couldn’t take my eyes off Henri as he obediently raised his cuffed wrists so the guard could attach them to the hook above. Turning him to face the pole, the guard whispered something in his ear before marching back to his place on the edge of the stage.
Henri’s already flayed back rippled with tension.
He flicked a look at the guard, his eyes narrowed and questioning.
What had he whispered?
Was that another guard on our side?
Does he know about Christmas?
What the hell is going on?
I breathed hard as Victor said, “I know you think I have double standards when it comes to what you can and cannot do with my precious jewels. I’m protective of them, but only so you can enjoy many years of companionship. However, with Henri…well.” He chuckled. “I’m not so protective. And so, consider this my treat for you and yet another level of ownership for him.” He grinned. “We’re getting close, my dear friends. Close to owning everything that he holds dear. I’m inviting you to help me break his last remaining pieces.”
I couldn’t breathe as Victor pulled out the same brown whip he’d used on me from his back waistband. Smoothing down his navy blazer, he grinned at the crowd and cracked the whip. “Each of you has my permission to whip him as hard as you like. Draw blood. Shred his back. Do whatever you fancy.” He smirked. “The only rule is five strikes per Master. And don’t molest him. That’s my job. I’ll go first.”
I swallowed my scream as Victor wrenched his arm back.
Sent the whip singing.
And struck.
Chapter Ten
………………………….
Henri
FUNNY HOW PAIN COULD SWITCH from agonising to numbing. How ice cold could become boiling hot. How shock could hide a broken bone.
I’d heard of such phenomena.
Heard how mothers had the sudden strength to throw cars off their children and soldiers carried their comrades through a battlefield with a broken leg.
I’d endured a lot on this island, but I hadn’t been pushed to those extremes.
Not until now.
Now…I had an inkling.
The slightest awakening of just how far I would go if given the tiniest chance of winning.
Nothing would stop me.
Nothing could stop me.
Not a broken bone.
Not a broken soul.
Because the only thing I needed to burn this fucking place to the ground was a heart that kept on beating. A heart that watched every lash and sent me her love even though I wished she’d close her eyes.
I grunted as Victor reopened my back with his lashes.
My scarred skin split wide as he whipped me. Hot blood rivered down my back and trickled over my bare ass. He wasn’t gentle nor was he unhinged. He whipped me just enough to ensure I trembled and panted—driving me to that point where my legs threatened to give out before he finished.
But then it was over.
And he patted my sweaty, bloody shoulder and whispered how I would get a reward if I managed to stay coherent.
He left.
Another Master took his place.
I groaned as he struck.
His hit wasn’t as accurate. The bite of the whip kissed my thighs instead of my back, adding another layer of excruciation. He whipped me five times and then traded places.
The next lacked finesse, the leather fork chewing its way through my shoulder blades, almost kissing bone.
Kiss by vicious kiss, they pushed me deeper and deeper to that point of inhumanness.
I felt it building inside me, welling like a mushroom cloud, preparing to blanket, shelter, and grant me adrenaline and strength to survive.
If only I could use that numbness to protect Ily and get her far away from here.
If only I could blow up this fucking fortress and every monster within it.
A guttural cry escaped me as another Master stepped up and began.
He held nothing back.
No one did.
Every Master brutalised me to the point I no longer even knew my own name.
I hung there.
Bleeding.
Gasping.
Twitching.
I lost track of time again.
I skipped in and out of awareness as pain became heat, and heat became ice, and ice became numbness.
My body shuddered as each man took his turn.
My bare feet slipped on the spilled blood painting the podium floor.
I didn’t know how many Masters were in residence.
I didn’t try to match faces with their strikes.
I didn’t care.
The sooner this was over, the sooner I could pass out.
You can’t pass out.
The guard…remember?
He’d whispered something...
Christmas is in two days.
Had he told me that to add yet another layer of torture?
I no longer kept track of the clock or calendar. I didn’t want to know how much time kept ticking past.
But…he’d risked his neck to whisper in my ear.
He’d said it with hope instead of mockery.
Christmas is in two days.
What was I supposed to do with that information?
Help plant bombs again?
Light the fuses?
I groaned as a Master struck me particularly deep. A bone-deep slice throbbed over my ribcage hinting he’d split yet another area of my skin.
Heavy footfalls pounded up the steps of the stage. My heartbeat roared in my ears as the man came closer, closer.
Fuck, now what?
My pulse pounded in every wound. My blood poured faster down my legs.
A cruel fist landed in my hair and yanked my head back.
I groaned as the pain in my shoulders compounded.
My vision spluttered as I stared at the decorative painted ceiling, but then my thundering heart stopped as whoever held me whispered into my ear. “Hold on, Mercer. Just…hold on.”
“Ben, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Victor drawled from wherever he sat watching the show.
Ben?
The Master holding me wrenched my head to the side with a sick chuckle. “Just getting in the groove, Vic. Didn’t know I had a violent streak until I started whipping him.”
“You expect me to believe you? You ask for permission with Abigail, you lying prick.” His voice echoed with suspicion. “Don’t take me for a—”
“Abigail is fragile. She’d die if I truly let loose,” Ben snapped. A smile entered his voice. “But Henri is not. I can let myself go without fear of killing him.”
Silence fell for a moment.
I panted as the cuffs cut into my wrists, holding me upright.
Finally, Victor chuckled. “Fine. If you’re finally ready to stop being a pussy, use this.”
Something heavy clattered by my feet as if Victor had tossed something.
“Thanks.” Ben let me go and ducked for it. Swatting me hard across the ass with a leather beaded flogger, he laughed. “Works well.” Hitting me again, he stepped close and whispered, “I hope you still have those cufflinks—”
“Did I say you could talk to him?” Victor snapped. “Hit him or let someone else have a turn.”
Striking me one last time, Ben left without another word.
My legs gave out.
My system couldn’t survive the agonising gush of despair.
Why the hell did Ben mention my cufflinks? The same ones I’d thrown over the wall.
If they’d worked, Q would’ve been here by now—if only to kill me himself.
And even if they did work, he was either dead or busy hunting Victor’s men who stole his son.
He hated me.
He wouldn’t come.
No one was coming.
And to even hint that someone was.
That this could all be over soon—
Fuck.
I couldn’t.
Couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t stand.
Couldn’t exist.
Blackness swarmed me as another Master struck.
Pain crushed me.
I passed out.
* * * * *
“He’s damn well killing you.”
I groaned as consciousness slammed me awake.
For a single second, I had no memory, no discomfort.
But then…agony.
Everywhere.
My back, my thighs, my shoulders, my legs.
Fuck, make it stop!
I-I can’t do this anymore.
My groan turned to a tortured cry.
I tried to curl into a ball to hide, to die, only strong, no-nonsense hands kept me lying on my emaciated belly. “I’m not done tending to you.”
I cried out as something stinging splashed on the ribbons of my back.
Dr Belford cursed under her breath, her hands shaking as she nursed me back to life.
“Ily…” I gasped around the excruciating throb. “Is she…they didn’t…please tell me—”
“She’s fine. You passed out, and Victor let the Masters, who hadn’t had a turn, finish before everyone retired for the night.”
“Can…can you help me see her?”
“And get all of us killed?” She scoffed. “No.”
I gave up.
Collapsing against the pillow, I let overwhelming pain carry me away.
The last thing I felt was the sharpest prick in my arm. “When you wake, you won’t feel what he did to you. The drugs will numb everything, and you’ll feel a thousand times stronger than you actually are. Don’t think you’re cured. You’re not. Do too much and your system will shut down. Got it?”
I had no capacity to reply.
Her hand sifted gently through my shaggy hair. “I’m so sorry, Henri.”
And then, I was alone again.
* * * * *
“Tonight, you will get your reward, my sweetling.”
I flinched on my knees, not daring to look up at Victor.
Goosebumps covered me thanks to the cold winter evening and the fact that I wore nothing but white-wrapped cloth around my chest and back.
I’d woken a couple of hours ago and suffered through a shower before Dr Belford came to dress me in the softest bandages and soothing salves. She hadn’t spoken, but I’d whispered a quick thank you.
She was right.
Whatever she’d given me had numbed everything.
I felt nothing.
Nothing but the prickly claustrophobia of being trapped when all I wanted to do was run.
My stomach snarled in the quiet ballroom, highlighting my skinniness and the fact that I’d eaten one potato, three finger-sized pieces of fish, and a spoonful of chocolate mousse in twenty-eight hours.
I’d eaten better in the dungeons.
Whatever reward he wanted to give me?
I hoped it was food.
Glorious fucking food so I could get my strength back to kill him.
Standing, Victor clicked his fingers for me to do the same. It took effort to command shaking legs and popping knees to straighten, but I did. Giving Rachel a glance, she winced and looked away.
Her hands cradled her baby bump. She looked plumper and healthier, but the light in her eyes had been snuffed out. The ferocity when she’d lied for me after Emerald Bruises—when I claimed her, Ily, and Mollie as my own—no longer existed.
I hated that she’d given up.
I hated that she was the only jewel who dared make eye contact with me these days and wished she could get a message to Ily. Just a simple message of how sorry I was and just how much I loved her.
“For the past weeks, I’ve diligently proven to you that you are no longer the owner of your senses.” Victor cupped my cheek with a doting smile. “Your ears might be on your head, my pet, but they only obey what I say.”
I clenched my jaw and said nothing.
If he wanted to believe in his lunatic ramblings, so be it.
The only one who truly owned me was the girl chained to the wall. The girl staring at me even now. The girl sending me silent messages that I could feel but never return.
“If you prove to me that your hearing is completely mine. If your senses belong to me entirely, then you will be allowed to enjoy your reward from start to finish.”
I frowned.
An innuendo existed in his voice, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.
“All you have to do is listen to my commands, Henri. Do that, and you’ll be glad you did.” He ran his thumb over my bottom lip, his gaze growing wistful. “Behave, and all the pain will stop. You have my word.”
I swayed.
I couldn’t help it.
After so much agony…the mere whisper of it ending…
Fuck.
Looking over my shoulder, he ordered, “Do it.”
Before I could move, a cloth gag wedged between my teeth, and someone tied it behind my head. My hands flew up to stop him—
“Drop your arms,” Victor hissed. “Now.”
Fuck, it was hard.
So, so hard.
But I obeyed.
I obeyed even as that awful black hood that blocked everything out descended over my eyes and face.
I obeyed as someone took my hand and led me onto the stage.
I submitted as a nudge to my chest sent me tripping backward.
I grunted as the pain of my lashes exploded, cutting through the drugs Dr Belford gave me.
But only for a moment.
Then the pain was gone.
I sprawled backward on an overly stuffed bench.
Someone yanked my hands above my head and secured my cuffed wrists.
And then Victor’s voice feathered into my ear with a command that would kill me.
“You have five minutes to get hard, my pet. No Viagra this time. No Ilyana. Just my command. Obey, and you’ll be rewarded. Don’t, and—” He grabbed my balls and squeezed. “I’ll cut these off and eat them for my breakfast.”
Chapter Eleven
………………………….
Ily
I FOUGHT MY COLLAR’S HOLD.
Tears streamed down my face as Victor backed away from Henri and purred, “You’re running out of minutes. I suggest you get to it. Tick-tock.”
The image of Henri with his arms splayed above his head, shackled on the cream chaise lounge placed in the centre of the stage, seared into my soul. One of his legs lay along the length of the chaise while another fell off, his foot planted heavily on the wooden floor.
His hollow belly flexed beneath his bandages and his cock…
I fought and struggled.
I sobbed and clawed.
I couldn’t take this anymore.
I couldn’t stand by and watch anymore.
I couldn’t be the reason why Henri suffered anymore.
I-I can’t do this!
“Ily…” Peter dared to speak from his position on the other side of the stage. “Don’t.”
Don’t what?
Fight?
Try to save him?
Tomorrow was Christmas, and it was too late.
Henri’s bandages had soaked with blood.
His collarbones were stark.
His body was failing.
He couldn’t take much more.
None of us could.
So if we didn’t fight now…then when?
Tomorrow on Christmas?
