“Now, questions…” Mr. Steel’s eyes flashed as he took a sip of his new beverage.
Kill’s nostrils flared, drawing energy from the room just like he had back at the compound. “What do you want to know?” Grabbing my elbow, he jerked me close. We both shuddered as a crackle of electricity thrummed between us. I hated that he affected me. It wasn’t just him who wanted to be far away. It hurt too damn much.
Breathing hard, Kill shook me for no other reason but annoyance at still wanting me. “Tell me what you want to know. That she’s unique? Intelligent? Qualified in veterinary science? Or perhaps you want to know what she’s like in bed? That she writhes more perfectly than any woman I’ve ever met? That she tastes like fucking buttercup sunshine? That despite everything that’s happened to her, she’s still the strongest, stubbornest thing that refuses to be broken?”
Every sentence twisted the dagger in my heart until blood rivered inside. He used it. My nickname.
Buttercup.
I wanted to slap him more than I’d wanted anything.
Bastard!
“She’s one of a kind, Mr. Steel and if you don’t see that, then you’re a fucking idiot.” His chest rose and fell, his eyes bright and glassy.
If I’m so perfect, why don’t you keep me, then, you stupid wanker?
My heart twisted into a painful knot. “Fuck you, Arthur,” I whispered hotly. “Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you!”
Kill took a step back, eyes wide.
I turned on him, ready to attack. My nails wanted to draw his blood. I wanted to make him hurt as much as I did.
But Mr. Steel’s arm wrapped around my waist, dragging me backward. I cried out as his cold reptilian fingers kissed over my scarred hipbone.
I’d forgotten all I wore was a bikini. I’d forgotten everything but wanting to savage Arthur Killian.
“You’re feisty.” His voice threaded down my ear and into my brain. “You’re passionate—I like that. Passion is good and strength is even better.”
I shivered, wriggling in his grip. “Let me go.”
Instead of obeying, he spun me around in his hands, imprisoning me between his spread thighs. I curled my nose at being so close to this monster. “Let me go!”
He smiled, crinkling the tanned skin by his eyes. His teeth were slightly crooked, his jawline strong and spoke of a man used to getting his own way. “You don’t tell me what to do. Ever.” His nose brushed against mine in a horribly tender move. “Tell me, girl. What happened to your body?”
Kill faded into the background as I fought the urge to vomit all over Mr. Steel’s white suit. The pads of his thumbs traced circles around scarred flesh and inked.
When I didn’t reply, he murmured, “You’re like yin and yang. Half stunning, half deformed. Tell me. I want to know how you became like this.”
I locked my spine, revolting against his touch but unable to pull away. Kill moved closer. His breathing labored and bulk as terrifying as any punishment. Was he there to make sure I didn’t get away, or fighting the urge to tear me from this asshole’s hands?
“I don’t have to tell you anything,” I hissed. “Let. Me. Go.”
Mr. Steel’s eyes narrowed. “I see discipline will be in order.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “That’s perfectly fine. I enjoy a bit of punishment to get my point across.”
“You’ll never touch me.”
His fingers tightened, proving that in actual fact he already was. He cocked an eyebrow, daring me to deny it.
“Fuck you.” It seemed I liked that phrase currently.
Mr. Steel stiffened, then… he laughed. “I love your temper. It will make things extremely interesting.”
“It’s not a temper—just disgust. Stop touching me.”
Amazingly, Mr. Steel obeyed. His voice was well-smoothed silk as he said, “I did as you asked. Now you give me what I asked. Tell me what happened.”
I breathed hard. “No. The story is private.”
Even I don’t know the full tale. And every damn day I dived into the cesspool that’d become my memories only to drown in them. In fact, I wanted all my memories deleted. Every single encounter and kiss and Libra eraser recall, I wanted it all gone so I never had to see Kill’s traitorous face again.
Mr. Steel smiled coldly. “Privacy is a thing of the past. You need to understand that—otherwise your new life will be immensely uncomfortable.”
Kill stepped forward, his presence burning my back. Wherever he moved, his body called to mine. My flesh to his. Magnets. Worse than magnets—kismet alignment.
Yet he doesn’t feel it.
Or chooses the life of misery by ignoring it.
Bastard. Asshole. Weak!
Did he not feel what happened when he hugged me in the car? I couldn’t describe it. The way he held me hadn’t been erotic or sexual. It’d been warm and comforting knowingness.
I’d been home.
His body, his heart, his screwed-up head—it was home to me, and he’d just cast me adrift without a backward glance.
“You’ll never know anything about me. Privacy or not,” I growled, locking eyes with the man who’d thrown away all morality and justice to purchase me.
Mr. Steel’s face went red. “You—”
“She’s amnesiac. She’s broken in that respect. Her only flaw, I can assure you,” Kill jumped in, his voice strained and empty.
Mr. Steel took a moment to absorb the verdict of my broken brain. He tilted his head. “Is she normally this difficult?” He glowered in my direction.
Difficult?
They weren’t the ones being fucking sold! All of this was Kill’s fault. He was the difficult one by being a jackass and unbelievably stubborn.
My back stiffened and I threw pure hatred at the man who should be saving me from this nightmare, not shoving me headfirst. “I hate you, Arthur Killian. I gave you everything. I’m yours from before and now, yet you throw me away as if I’m trash.”
Mr. Steel looked at both of us, a smile plastered on his face. “Shit. It’s like watching a theatre production. You weren’t meant to fuck up the girl, Killian. That’s the new master’s job. Don’t you know the rules of trafficking?”
Kill stood locked to the carpet, not saying a word. His gaze tangled with mine, hiding so much but not hiding enough. I saw the fine edge of panic, the uncertainty—the second-guessing of right and wrong.
Mr. Steel continued, “Rules. Use the women. Take what you want from them. But don’t ever give them anything in return.”
“He didn’t,” I snarled. I couldn’t help myself. “Don’t worry about that. He took everything and gave nothing. I’d say he was a professional at selling women into slavery.”
Kill’s mouth parted, agony slicing over his face.
Good. I wanted him to hurt.
Mr. Steel laughed loudly. “Shit, I’m liking you more and more every second. And in response to your previous statement about her being broken, Mr. Killian—I don’t believe that’s true.” His smile stretched as he looked me up and down. “I wouldn’t say broken. I would merely say clouded. She knows there’s nothing in her past that will help her future.” The smile turned frigid. “Smart, really.”
He repulsed me.
He was evil.
He would die before he ruined me.
My questions from before were answered. What did he hide beneath that glittering veneer?
Darkness.
Oozing filth that I would never be free of. It would stick to me like black oil, even now smearing all over me. But I would willingly wade into his oil and use his darkness to slaughter him.
Mr. Steel lashed out, his fingers imprisoning my hipbones again. “I see what you’re thinking. Might as well forget those dangerous thoughts.” He dragged me closer, breathing hot on my neck. “They’ll only bring you endless pain, lovely.”
“Lovely, don’t be late today. You know your father is putting together a surprise party. You can’t miss it. It’ll break his heart.”
I bounced on the spot, full of life, full of hope. I was seeing him. I was celebrating my teenage beginning. My heart grew full to bursting at the thought of spending an uninterrupted hour beside him.
I was in love.
“I won’t, Mom. Art won’t let me be late.”
The memory snapped its Pandora’s lid closed, leaving me bereft. My heart filled with lead.
Truth.
I’d finally been shown the name of the green-eyed boy I loved.
Art.
Short for Arthur.
It was real—not in my head. I knew!
I launched myself away. Mr. Steel cried out in surprise as I stumbled backward and tripped over my own feet. Locking eyes with Kill, I shouted, “Art. I used to call you Art. You never let your mother cut your hair beyond your collar. You got your first motorbike when you were twelve. Art—you have to believe me.”
Kill’s face crumbled, water swam in his eyes, but still he didn’t believe. Still he preferred grief to hope.
I screamed as Mr. Steel snatched me, spun me in his arms, and slapped me.
My head snapped sideways as stars burst behind my eyelids. I moaned in protest as his hand captured my breast, pushing aside my bikini top to reveal my tattooed nipple.