Pennies (Dollar #1)(43)

Why did that terrify me so?

I’d spent the past few days thinking about his death, my death, everyone’s death.

I should be glad knowing that after tonight, Master A would kill me himself. I just had to hope it was quick rather than drawn out and agonising.

Perhaps, Mr. Prest will do it?

Once he’d taken from me, I could ask one thing. I could speak for the first time in forever and beg for death so I could win at the final punishment.

Mr. Prest tore his depthless gaze from mine, locking onto his business partner. He smiled, keeping his lips tight over his teeth, unable to hide his predatory conquest from showing.

His hand outstretched, pointing directly at me. “Her.”

Master A spun around, catching my head raised and vision glued on Mr. Prest. “What?”

Immediately, I dropped my chin, squeezing my eyes as if I could convince him I wasn’t staring.

Mr. Prest went from standing to a fast prowl to my side. He bypassed Master A with an elegance and swiftness like an eagle swooping on the doomed rabbit before anyone blinked.

I jolted as his cool hand landed on my scalp, his fingertips splaying over my forehead.

“I want her.”

He tugged ugly strands of hair, combing me, petting me, preparing me for whatever he had planned.

I shivered for an entirely different reason.

Master A choked. “No f*cking way.”

Mr. Prest’s touch returned to my scalp. I swallowed a moan as he once again stroked me. The way he fondled me wasn’t like a man with a woman. More like a hunter with its prey; a ruler with its defeated quarry.

“You offered to share her. You said I could do whatever I wanted.” Gathering more of my hair, he tugged a little, forcing my body to rise from the floor and sit up straight for the first time in months. My ribcage decorated the tight dress like a xylophone as my nipples hardened beneath the fabric.

He held me there like a statue. “I want to take you up on the offer.”

Master A’s temper swirled hotter, thicker, crazier with every second. “That part of the deal is no longer on offer—”

“It is if you want it to continue.” Mr. Prest’s voice resembled an axe, hacking through the air. “I want her all to myself. And I want her for an entire night.”

An entire night?

Air vanished in the room. I entered some vortex where panic ruled with cymbals and hurricanes.

I’m…Oh, I can’t breathe.

My unbroken hand soared to my throat, clutching at the tight muscles as they prevented me from sucking oxygen. Another panic attack swooped from nowhere as my eyes bugged with disbelief.

He can’t be serious.

I expected one hour. A request to f*ck me then leave.

Not an entire night.

Black spots danced as I fell deeper and deeper into hysteria.

Mr. Prest didn’t offer any condolences, merely held me by my hair. His attention was on Master A, waiting for approval.

What will he do to me?

As my fingernails scrabbled at my aching throat, I did my best to settle my drum set bashing heart. It didn’t matter. It would never happen. Master A would never let him claim me for a full night.

No one had done that.

No one.

I was borrowed for brief interludes. Not rented for negotiated periods.

He won’t let it happen.

I’m okay…I’ll be okay.

I had no explanation for the swirling attack I suffered. I’d endured so much worse than Mr. Prest. Yes, he was the devil dressed in angel wings, but he had a refined venom that other monsters lacked.

He was terrifying.

“No f*cking deal. I’ll find someone else to build what I want.”

“No one else has the contacts, and you know it.”

Master A snarled, “You’re not f*cking my slave.”

“She’s a slave for that reason.” Mr. Prest’s voice never rose, staying royally calm and melodic. “And I will have her…if you want what I have to give.”

My body spasmed as I sucked in a noisy breath, hating the way my skin heated at being fought over. I never thought I’d be so wanted, so desired—even though it was for terrible reasons, I was priceless for a fleeting second.

“I’ve paid you a f*cking fortune!”

“And I want something more.”

“No way.”

Mr. Prest’s fingers clamped around my nape, hoisting me unceremoniously to my feet. I couldn’t fight the pressure of his strong grip, shackled entirely to his mercy.

Standing didn’t help my impending panic attack. I wobbled in place as Mr. Prest forced me to look at him. My watering eyes wrenched up, drinking in his face as if he held the future not the end.

His hair glossed so blue-black and thick, it looked like tar pits—ready to snuff out my life. His gaze flashed with ebony rage. “Yes. And I’ll tell you why.” His voice dropped to a hiss. “I know you’re the one who beat her. I know her hand didn’t break from falling down the goddamn stairs. And I know you punished her for things I did last time I was here. I want her. You treat her like shit. The least you can do is give her to me so I can do the same.”

My knees buckled.

My girlish whimsy of actually being treated cordially pulverised.

He wanted…not to sleep with me…but to hurt me?