Chapter 4

Astrid

T he girl who brings me my food, Lydia, scrubs my skin harshly in the copper tub. Raking the loofah across my back several times, I lean forward and grit my teeth, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of hearing me complain.

"I told you, I can do it."

Almost before I'm even done speaking, she snaps at me. "Sorry. This is my job, Mrs . Strauss." Here I was picturing a steamy tub of comfort. But all I get is a tin of jealousy.

The water is tepid by the time she snatches a hairbrush and yanks it through my wet strands. I've never really cared about my looks before. Haircuts only happened when Ferona would get bothered enough by her husband trying to play with my strands. So having this woman try to yank the locks from my head is almost enough for me to turn and hit her. But the fear that she'd rat me out to the master makes me more afraid than the pain.

Finally, she's done, and my body smells of roses. At least it masks the mildew stench that coats everything down here. Donning a new red shift dress, I follow her down one of the twisted dungeon halls to my cell. I'm starting to like it. No one really bothers me there.

It's morning. I know, because we passed a tiny, barred window, but I'm still so very tired. Once grumpy Lydia locks me back inside, I saunter to the cot and try to settle in for another nap. My body feels so weak from the journey and rationed food. Maybe it's on purpose so I can't run away as easily.

But they don't know that Wyatt is probably on his way right now…

"Psst. Hey! Mrs. Strauss?"

My head feels like it's stuffed with cotton as I awaken to a soft voice calling me. Peeking one eye open, I catch the small pink-haired woman, Chloe, standing just outside my cell.

"Yeah?" It almost hurts to talk; I'm so sleepy and drained.

"I brought you some more food. Figured you could use it." She slots a key into the door and opens it, then brandishes a large cloth tied into a bundle. The iron wall shakes when she closes the door, and I slump onto the cot.

"Thank you," I tell her, but concern coats my brow. Is she really being nice?

Pulling the small table over, she unties the towel, showcasing a piece of Angel food cake, a length of sausage, some slices of cheese, and an apple. If she asked me to suck her toes, I think I would.

"Wow! This is a feast." Snatching the sausage first, I don't bother being dainty and let my incisors rip into the flesh, gripping a large bite.

Chloe steps back and chuckles. "Thought you'd be hungry. I remember when I first came here and how starved I was for weeks." She leans against the wall as I dig in, but I pause enough to be polite.

"D-do you want some?"

"Oh, no. I had some lunch already."

Chewing slowly, I consider my next question carefully. "What's the master like?"

"He's, uh… I would do what he says. Follow his exact orders and you'll be fine." Turning, her steps hesitate as she approaches the door. "I'm not supposed to be here. So please don't tell on me. Sometimes it gets so noisy upstairs. There's something soothing about the quiet down here."

I nod in complete agreement as I finish off the cake.

"Anyway, I'll be back sometime with some alcohol, and we can toast to your new home." A huffed laugh escapes her chest that sounds laden with sarcasm. Opening the cell, she locks it behind her with a little, "See ya." Her steps scurry away as I try to slow down my bites. It seems maybe I can make a friend here. Perhaps even an ally.

With the excesses of the meal, all the blood rushes to my stomach and I get woozy. As soon as the cheese is gone and I grab some water from the faucet, I lie down for another snooze.

A shuffle resonates off the damp walls as a crowd of people approaches. The thuds of the footsteps match my accelerating heartbeat as I sit up straight, clutching the worn blanket to my chest. A muscular man in a black suit comes into view, and I shudder, wondering if this is him . The man I don't even know the name of. My husband-to-be.

He's not very tall, but he is round through the middle and seems old. Like, really old. Maybe fifty?

His lips form a solid line as he sees me huddled on the cot as far back as I can get. Will he hurt me now?

"Kneel. Your master is coming."

The breath gets caught in my chest. Confused, I ask, "What?"

Snapping his fingers, he points to the middle of the floor where the shards of my box still lay. He rolls his eyes, then unlocks the cell door. Hurrying inside, he grabs the pieces and tosses them into the hall outside before pressing his back against the wall. His hands form a diamond in front of his crotch. With a sharp tongue, he whispers, "On your knees. Now, girl."

The intensity he holds makes me spring into action. Don't speak and don't look him in the eye. I remember that rule. Where do I look? I didn't think of that!

Soft footfalls hit the stones in a steady rhythm, and my fear transforms into utter terror at the calmness of the sound. Especially when the person stops right in front of me. Shiny ink-black shoes enter my vision as I keep my head low. His feet don't seem fat.

"Look up." A melodic voice rings out like a song as it fills the air. My nerves twist with unease as my eyes crawl up his foreboding figure. Black trousered legs meet a well-defined waist leading to a broad chest. His arms are covered with a black long-sleeved shirt. Gripping the buckle of his belt, his tattooed hands appear as if they could strangle me without much effort. But the most alarming thing is his face.

He's ungodly handsome.

Younger than I thought, he appears cut from ancient marble. Like the statue of Augustus de Prima Porta in Italy. Adding to the stone look is his style of hair, which is bleached white and slicked straight back. His eyes are like diamonds, shining in the dim light, so bright I can't look away.

Surely, he's a demon here to cart my soul to the netherworld. Or a two-faced reincarnation of Janus himself, opening the door to my foreboding future. My belly flips when I see his pecs rise underneath his taut shirt with his breath.

Tilting his head slightly, he narrows his eyes at me. "Rise."

Now, I understand why people do what he commands. There's something magical about him, like he casts a spell over the room in such a way you want to obey, even though you know it's bad.

Standing, I keep my eyes trained on his. As if I'm a sculpture he's analyzing, he takes his time to drop his gaze across every inch of my body. The dress is see-through and my nipples peak under his inspection. His stare is so intimate, so sagacious, and something happens within me that I can't explain. Throbbing heat deep in my core is confusing and uncomfortable, giving me a desire for something unknown.

Holding his arm out to the side, he snaps his fingers, and I follow the movement, not realizing that Dilan has returned. She places an object in his hand, and he turns back to me with a red leather collar. Holding it up, he presents it as if it's something magnificent. On the front is a set of black bull horns engraved around a large O-ring. The sight of it frightens me. It signifies finality, and that Wyatt hasn't rescued me yet. Oddly, my inner thighs clench as he straightens it out.

"Lift your dress, turn around and get on your knees."

Part of me wonders what would happen if I tried to make a dash for it, but the big guy stands close to the open door and Dilan postures just behind the master. There's no part of this man that appears violent, but the threat of it seems to lie just under his translucent skin. So I do exactly as he says, tugging the garment over my head and tossing it onto the bed.

I've never been naked in front of anyone before. The thought makes me hurry to turn around, but the heat from the man's gaze settles on my backside, warming my skin to a burning flame. Dropping, I focus on controlling my breathing, but panic threatens to surface with a tiny whimper.

The man bends so his mouth is very close to my shoulder and whispers, "Gather your hair for me, angel."

A gasp parts my lips as a shiver runs down my spine. It's the closest a man has ever gotten to my face, and it gives me butterflies. The sensitive tissues between my legs throb as the scruff of his jaw scratches my bare skin. Maybe he misunderstood my name and called me angel instead of Astrid, but I don't dare correct him.

My blonde hair falls to my lower back and is quite thick. With two hands, I gather it up and move it to the side, holding it in a ponytail away from my neck for him. The cold leather hits my throat as he places it around me, then tightens it on the back. For a moment, his finger accidentally grazes my ear, the touch so electrifying, I stiffen. Shoving my lower lip under my teeth, I prevent a moan from escaping.

"Good girl." His warm words lull me into a stupor until I shut my eyes tightly. No one has ever said that to me. It makes me want to please him just to hear it again. "Now, bend forward on all fours."

Without glancing behind me, I do and wait as he walks a few steps away. All my private parts are on display for him. Embarrassment flushes my face and then ripples over my whole body. I don't dare move, though. The fear he inspires keeps me locked in place.

But then a surge of sharp, burning pain rips through my ass cheek, and I lurch forward with a scream. Agony floods every nerve ending, even as I scramble away from the searing sensation. There's no escaping it. I wail until my face screws up and tears fall from my eyes. Gathering myself into a ball, I curl up against the wall, hoping he'll leave me alone.

When I glance up at the crowd in my cell, my husband-to-be flashes a glowing branding iron in his hand. With a sob, I scan my ass. A bull's head emblem is seared into the delicate skin of my outer cheek. The ruddy burn throbs with torment, bubbling at the edges with serum.

It's a terrifying sight. More so than the removable collar. It's permanent. A testament to betrayal of my obedience.

Booming off the low ceilings, his voice temporarily stuns my mind away from my stinging sore. "I am Consort Strauss, but you may call me master or sir. I won't respond to anything else. Rest assured, little angel, I won't touch you until your eighteenth birthday. And then I'll put an heir inside you to rid your blood of the vile viper in your DNA by combining it with mine."

He hands the offending weapon to the man in the black suit. Sniffling, I fold into myself tighter as the master looms over me, his shadow blocking any light in the room. His face had been illuminated in the light, but now it's pitch black. My stomach knots with every one of his commands as he says them with authority. What if he actually hurts me? Worse than he already has?

"As a wife, you won't be expected to work here as the others do, only to bear my child. Other than absolute obedience to my word alone, that is all that is required of you. Do you understand me?"

I nod rapidly, rubbing my nose with the back of my hand. But the gesture must offend him because the once easy demeanor suddenly flips. His rage is palpable. "Kneel before your master and look at the ground. Respond appropriately to my question."

Resuming the position, my wound aches as it stretches, but I do as he says. "Yes, sir."

"Sit back on your heels. Hands in your lap. Gaze at my shoes and try again."

Pausing for a moment, I try to think of his instructions. With a rough swallow, I say clearer, "Yes, sir."

He's silent for so long, I almost look up, but then he breathes out, "Good, angel." The melodic tone returns, and the name alone makes my heart rate escalate. Especially as he says it so tenderly. It's puzzling.

Spinning, he turns away from me, and the other man follows behind. Dilan pauses and points to the sink cabinet, then closes my cell door and locks it before leaving.

Wyatt will save me.