Chapter 88

EIGHTY-EIGHT

AMETHYST

All plans to stab my way to freedom vanish when Xero charges across the room—not toward Locke or the sexual predators. But toward me.

His hair flies in all directions like a bloody halo. His face is red with rage, with veins protruding from his brow. The muscles in his neck expand like the hood of a cobra, making him look fresh from an asylum.

My heart leaps into the back of my throat. From the way his eyes still lock on mine like I’m the only other person in existence, it almost looks like he’s about to pull me into his arms… until he pulls a fist.

I dart to the side before the punch lands.

“Xero!” I scream, but my voice fails to reach him through his haze of fury.

He spins, lurches, grabs me by the hair, and the audience erupts into cheers. Realization slaps me in the face, and every drop of blood drains from my head and into my pounding heart.

Xero thinks I’m Dolly.

Using everything I learned from our training sessions, I drop to the floor and twist out of his grip, yanking out dozens of hairs by the root. As Xero advances toward me, I snatch the cleaver and aim it at his chest.

The audience coos.

His gaze swims from side to side, triggering long-forgotten flashbacks of male inmates on psychotic rampages. This time, there’s no small army of men in white to subdue them—just me.

“Xero?” I repeat, my voice trembling.

I’m so accustomed to sparring with Xero and the others that his movements are clumsy in comparison. I dodge to the side, narrowly avoiding a right hook. A rush of air passes just above my head, signaling the strength behind his blow.

The cheers of the audience grow louder, spurring him on. I lunge to the side, narrowly missing another punch. If I don’t pull him out of this drug-induced frenzy, he’ll continue to attack me, thinking I’m Dolly.

“Xero, it’s Amethyst!” I yell over the chaos.

He lurches forward, his hand shooting out to grab my throat. I twist to the side, his fingers grazing my shoulder.

“Xero Greaves, snap out of it!”

His other hand catches my wrist, making pain explode through my arm as he yanks me into his chest. His heart beats so hard, its reverberations echo through my back. I twist and turn, trying to wrench free, but his grip is iron.

As his free hand wraps around my throat, desperation drives me to kick backward. My foot connects with his shin, but he barely flinches. I run through all the moves we practiced, trying to find one that won’t hurt Xero, but as he cuts off my air, I hurl my bodyweight forward, throwing him off-balance.

Xero tumbles forward, stopping himself before he falls. He pivots and swings his fist again, forcing me to duck.

The audience roars with laughter.

I walk backward, raising the cleaver like a shield, but Xero advances on me with the determination of a tiger. I’m trapped in a demented dilemma. The only man capable of saving me thinks I’m a woman he wants dead. If I attack him in self-defense, Delta and a dozen other predators are waiting in line for my demise. If Xero kills me in a drug-fueled rage, it will break his spirit and Delta wins.

“Xero, please listen to me!” I scream, my voice raw.

His arm strikes out like a rattlesnake and grabs the wrist of the hand holding the cleaver.

I could punch him, but that would only confirm in his mind that I’m an enemy. I could break free of this hold, but he’ll continue chasing me until he passes out. Then we’ll both be vulnerable.

Maybe the only weapon I have is my surrender.

Fingers clenching around my wrist, he walks me backward until my hamstrings meet the edge of the mattress. His free hand wraps around my throat and squeezes.

“Xero,” I rasp. “It’s Amethyst. Your little ghost.”

Too far gone in his delusion to listen, he cuts off my air. Spots dance before my eyes, my vision darkening. In my periphery, the men press in closer, their excited breaths penetrating the roar of blood between my ears.

I stare into Xero’s eyes and stroke the hand trying to strangle me to death, pouring every ounce of love into the caress.

“McMurphy,” I whisper into his ear.

Xero flinches at the word, his grip loosening a fraction. His eyes remain wild and unfocused, but my chest brightens with a spark of hope.

I whisper the safe word over and over, and each time, his hold slackens enough for me to draw in a rush of air. He breathes hard, his features forming a grimace.

“That’s right, Xero,” I say, my palm sliding up his arm. “It’s me. I’m Amethyst.”

Recognition flickers across his features. He looks into my eyes, his brow furrowing with confusion, followed by a glimmer of the man I love.

Around us, the men clap and chant for Xero to tear me apart. He’s oblivious to their presence, his attention honed only on me.

When his fingers loosen around my throat, I grab his wrist. “Don’t make it obvious.”

He hesitates, his breathing ragged, his gaze darting from side to side. The madness in his eyes dims, replaced by a burst of rage. Without a word, he throws me onto the bed. The mattress springs squeak under my weight, and I scream.

The movement jostles studio lights and cameras on tripods surrounding the bed, filling my vision with a blinding glare. I blink over and over, my eyes watering.

Xero positions himself between my spread legs, his hands sliding up to the neckline of my dress. He grabs the fabric with both hands and pulls, tearing it apart.

The audience’s raucous cheers become a distant roar, my world narrowing to Xero’s touch. He looms over me, his hands caressing my exposed breasts. His touch ignites my skin with sparks of electricity, and my breath quickens. I bite my lip to keep from moaning.

Does Xero even know what’s happening?

A foreign hand touches my knee, making me flinch and shriek. Xero’s head snaps up, his eyes narrowing.

The groper is the man whose comb-over hangs down in wisps beside his ear. In a blur of movement, Xero grabs my cleaver and slashes his throat.

Blood sprays across the bed, splattering on my chest. I gasp, my eyes widening. The men crowding around the bed skitter backward to the farthest corners of the room.

Xero turns his focus on me, then climbs back onto the bed and places the cleaver in my hand. Heart fluttering, I close my fingers around its hilt. Grabbing the torn fabric of my dress, he wipes the blood off my breasts.

With trembling hands, I reach up to cup his face and whisper, “What did they do to you?”

Xero hisses through clenched teeth, making me flinch. Is he hallucinating? Before I can work out a way to get through to him, the hand that was holding the fabric slips between my spread legs.

My gaze travels over his muscled chest and down his abs to his thick erection. I shiver, the muscles of my pussy tightening. Xero slips his fingers through my slick folds, his eyes darkening with anger and need.

“You want me?” I curl my fingers around his shaft.

He answers with a low, rumbling growl and moves closer, allowing me to position his cock at my entrance. When I rub his crown over my swollen clit, we both groan.

Before I know it, Xero pushes into my pussy with a thrust so forceful that I scream. He pulls back, not giving me time to adjust, and snaps his hips.

His thrusts are hard, unyielding, delivering jolts of pleasure and pain. Wrapping my legs around his hips, I cling to his biceps. His breath is hot and erratic against my cheek, mingling with the smell of sweat and blood.

“Harder, Xero,” I groan, my fingers digging into his shoulders. “Make me come.”

He draws back, his eyes meeting mine in silent understanding. Pulling away, he flips me onto my front and enters me again with another violent thrust. His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise, and he pounds into me, his movements furious and frantic.

I push against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. As I turn around, some of the men from earlier enter my periphery, stroking their erections.

My fingers tighten around the cleaver. The first bastard to come in touching distance will be the next to die.

The rhythm becomes erratic, his breath hot and ragged against my neck. His chest rests flush against my back, his arm tightening around my waist.

Pressure builds in my core, fueled by the strangers’ imminent deaths. I picture them crawling onto the mattress, wanting their turn and getting sliced open with my cleaver.

As Xero’s rough fingers stroke my clit, the men venture closer. I wonder how much they paid to watch and ask myself if it was worth their lives. They’re waiting for the grand finale, where Xero kills me in the throes of my climax.

Just as I’m about to come, he pulls us both backward so I’m sitting upright on my knees with him pounding into me from beneath.

I turn to the silver-haired auction winner and lick my lips. As he grins, I imagine him rushing forward, his erection within the range of my blade.

Xero’s fingers find my throat again and he squeezes hard. My eyes widen, and I clutch at his fingers, trying to pull them off.

The men edge closer, their faces monstrous.

Darkness clouds my vision again. I open my mouth in a silent scream. Xero quickens his thrusts, as though excited by my impending death.

An orgasm tears through my core, and my muscles clench and spasm around Xero’s shaft. Eyes rolling to the back of my head, my body falls limp.

The room erupts into raucous applause, but I stay still, wanting them to believe I’m dead. Xero’s strokes become erratic, fucking me so hard that my body jerks across the mattress.

With a final snap of his, his cock throbs once, twice, three times, before erupting in an explosion of warm cum. My ears ring with his roar. He continues pounding into me through his climax, stretching out my orgasm.

As his movements slow, he strokes my curls, still breathing hard. I peek through my lashes, watching the men approach.

Xero pulls out of me, plucks the cleaver from my fingers, and turns on the crowd. The room echoes with shouts and screams and the sounds of slicing flesh. I continue playing dead throughout his wild rampage as the men scramble to escape. All the doors, including the double ones that were barricaded, are shut.

As he works his way through the men, I resist the urge to join in with my ice pick. The man we both want to kill is missing.

Just as I’m ready to take another peek, the carnage stops, and Xero drops to the floor with a thud.

Delta rises from behind the wet bar with a tranquilizer gun. “Apologies for that, gentlemen. The winner of the auction is now deceased. Would you like to bid again for a rare opportunity to fuck Dolly while her corpse is still warm?”