Or so he thought.
Lex was smart, too smart, calculating, categorically evil, and Marcus was underestimating him badly.
Lex would be on a war path.
To get to me.
He’d made it clear I belonged to him, I was his, no matter the cost and he may not have said the words, but I knew what I was to him.
I shouldn’t want the man who kidnapped me in the first place, my heart should not beat for the man who set off a chain of events that would ultimately lead me to this very moment but clearly my heart wasn’t very smart.
Not that I could blame it.
I had fallen in love with the darkness.
I wasn’t going to fight it. Not anymore.
He could have me.
All of me.
Possess and claim and keep.
I was Alexander’s.
“Ten,” Marcus repeats.
I hear rustling behind me, but the restraints restrict my movements, I can’t look back to see exactly what is happening.
I don’t say a word.
“Ten,” the number is repeated and then hands grab at the back of my gown, ripping it away from my body until it falls away, revealing my bare back.
The first lash of the whip is a shock and I’m not able to hold in the scream that unleashes from my throat.
The second is just as much of a shock and the third. I hear them counting.
A lash for every year.
The thin strip of leather whips against my skin, ripping it open. I feel blood and sweat rolling over the surface as the wounds open with each new laceration.
At four, the pain becomes unbearable, my consciousness begins to slip, I clutch at it but it’s loose and slimy, never quite staying in my grip.
My head sags forward on the fifth and whilst I still feel the whip hitting my skin it’s almost warming, like it’s gone from pain to something else entirely. I know it’s there but it’s happening to someone else. I see it. I hear it.
Six.
I’m sure I’m going to die.
Seven.
I see Lex’s face, his fathomless, silver eyes, his amused smirk, the wicked gleam.
Eight.
I feel his hands on my body, soothing the cuts, kissing away the pain. His teeth nip at my flesh before his lips kiss away the sting.
Nine.