Faithless. Monster. Beast.
“I won’t touch her!” I hiss aloud to the voices rattling around in my skull. “I won’t touch her,” I repeat, ignoring the angry, protesting throb of my still-hard cock. I reach up, clutching the side of my aching head as I cover the girl up again. “I don’t deserve pleasure. I don’t—but I can care for her. I can keep her safe.”
Whoever sold her to Kaito was a bad man. A man like Alexei, who trafficks women. There are so many men like that in the world, I know. Men who want to trade in female flesh, hurt it, abuse it.I can protect her from that world, if she stays here with me. I can keep her safe, if she’s a good pet.
I’ll train her. Protect her. I’ll do it right this time.
I won’t spoil this one like I did Anastasia. I won’t give in to my desires. This will be my penance, my test. If I do it right, like Yvette told me, then no one will get hurt.
If I had listened, if I had trained Anastasia from the start, if I hadn’t been so soft, she might still be with me. Yvette would be alive. This girl wouldn’t be lying here, sleeping her drugged sleep in this bed; her future forever changed because Kaito knew I was alone.
My fault. Always my fault.
If I stick to the rules, I can do better. I can mold her into the perfect pet, and no one will ever hurt her again.
7
NOELLE
For the second time in what feels like far too short a time, I wake up groggy and afraid, in another strange bed. It only takes a minute to realize that I am, however,definitelyin a different place.
It’s nothing like the pristine, nice-smelling, luxurious mansion I’d been taken to in order to meet Kaito. There are dead plants in and by the windows, dusty antiques on a table, and dusty books piled up on dusty shelves. The entire room smells like a place that’s been shut up for a long time without anyone tending to it. Notbad, exactly, not rotten, but just—musty and closed-up. Ignored.
I feel itchy and uncomfortable. I’d been drugged again, I know that, after I’d been tied in the strange, elaborate ropes while Kaito watched.Gift-wrapped, he’d said with a smirk. I’d seen how aroused he was as he watched, and for a moment, I’d almost begged for him to give in and take me, just so I wouldn’t be sent somewhere stranger still, to another unknown man.
Of course, I hadn’t, and I’m not sure it would have mattered anyway.
I have hazy memories of being taken somewhere, on another plane. There are other vague flashes that are more sensation than memory—the feeling of being cramped, cold, and strangely, feelings of intense, bursting pleasure that make no sense. I feel like I need another bath, and I push the blanket off as I sit up slowly.
A wave of vertigo hits me, and I feel as if I’m going to be sick. I sit very still as the minutes tick by, trying to regain my equilibrium, and it’s then that I remember what I’m wearing.
Silk and lace.Red lingerie. I feel a sick wave again, taking in all of it, right down to the split panties that would allow anyone easy access to me. Horror washes over me, and I feel bile burn at the back of my throat.Has someone—while I slept? Am I even still a virgin? Where the fuck am I?
I don’t feel pain or soreness as I shift on the bed, reaching down to gingerly prod between my thighs, which eases my fears a little. Still, the knowledge that I was out for so long, completely without control over my own body, makes me feel cold all over.
Slowly, I take several deep breaths, trying to calm myself—and that’s when the door opens.
A man walks in, as I’d steeled myself to expect. What Ihadn’texpected was for him to be so handsome. He’s wearing what can only be described as an old-fashioned dressing gown, a deep burgundy velvet quilted at the shoulders. It’s belted at the waist, the neck slightly open to show a broad, hard chest lightly furred with dark hair. His hands are long-fingered and elegant, and when I look up at his face, it’s strikingly attractive. His hair is dark and messy, his face chiseled, and his eyes are a startling blue, even if they seem a bit sunken in his sharp-angled face.
I hold myself very still, like prey that doesn’t want to be sighted, although that’s foolish. He can see me—his gaze rakes over me instantly, and blood rushes to my cheeks as I remember that I’m only wearing lingerie. I grab for the blanket, yanking it above my breasts to cover myself, and strangely, he almost looks—relieved?
I cling to that glimmer of hope with everything I have. If by some chance he’s not pleased to have me here, if he doesn’t want me, then maybe he’ll send me home. Perhaps I can still get back to Georgie.
“Good morning,” the man says, leaning with one hip against the antique wooden dresser at the side of the room, as dusty as anything else in here. “I will answer the questions I know you must have first. I am Alexandre Sartre. You are in my home. You’ve been asleep for two days.” He cocks his head slightly. “And you are--?”
“I—” My mouth feels dry and cottony. “I’m Noelle Giles. Where—amI? Am I still in Tokyo?”
He chuckles darkly, an oddly rich sound coming from his full lips. They’re dry and cracked, but I can imagine they once were soft. He looks tired, as if he’s under a great deal of stress, or hasn’t taken care of himself in some time.
Why the fuck am I even thinking about his lips?
“Noelle.” He rolls my name over his tongue, and a shiver goes down my spine. The way he says it sounds sensuous, silky, like dripping dark chocolate over bright fruit. “No, you are not in Tokyo. You’re in Paris.”
Paris?I let out a small squeak of surprise, and I see something flicker in his face. I feel like a small, trapped rabbit being surveyed by a hawk, and I clutch the blanket tighter for what little protection it offers me.
I swallow hard. “Please,” I say quickly. “I don’t know why I’m here, but I’m not supposed to be. This isn’t the deal I made. I need to go home. My brother is only sixteen, and our parents are dead, and he’s alone—”
Alexandre holds up a hand, stemming the words spilling anxiously from my mouth. “You are here because you were given to me,” he says flatly. “A man named Kaito—”