Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(24)

Barcode reference: 302493528752445

Age: Twenty to thirty

Temperament: Angry and violent

Sexual status: Not virgin

Sexual heath: No diseases

Ownership guidelines: Recommend strict punishment to break temper. Trim body, fit enough for extreme activities.

History: No living relatives



Oh, God. Brax. Did that mean he didn’t survive? No, I’d feel it if he were gone for good. Wouldn’t I? Something would break inside; become a void if he was gone forever.

I looked up, wide-eyed, hoping for some sort of compassion, something to latch onto while I swirled in misery, but the man stayed straight and taut, eyes closed off.

“What is your name?” he asked, French accent floating over me. I’d always thought the French accent was sexy, suave. Now, all I wanted to do was throw up and rip my ears off.

Anger dispelled my fear about Brax, and I snarled, “If I’m no one, why do you want to know my name?”

A flash of erotic yearning flickered across his face. “You’re right. It’s not necessary. However, it’s a lonely existence if no one calls you by your name.” The way he said it bristled with dark intensity. Don’t try to get my sympathy vote. You don’t know true loneliness.

“Why did you buy me?”

He leaned back, steepling his fingers. “I didn’t. You were a gift. An unwanted gift.” His lips twitched. “A bribe, if you will.”

My stomach coiled like a viper. I’d been given to someone who didn’t even want me. At least if someone had bought me, spent a lot of money, they might treat me a little better. Like a prized racehorse or an expensive breed of cat. But this… I was an unwanted present. Like a pair of hand knitted jumpers at Christmas.

“What will you do with me?” My voice was barely a whisper.

“That is none of your concern.”

“You don’t think my future is any of my concern?”

“No. Because your future is mine.”

I breathed hard at the unfairness.

He stood, looking down at me. In a flash of movement, he pressed me into the chair, hands over mine on the armrests. I stopped breathing. I stopped everything. I was immobile.

His gaze captured mine, holding me prisoner in their pale green depths. Something dark and urgent flashed, then disappeared. Eyes dropped to my lips and his mouth parted.

The heavy, heated air from the fire seared us. Every crackle of flames made me twitch.

Do not move. Do not move.

Finally, the man pulled back. It looked like it took a lot of effort and he readjusted himself discreetly. “Don’t you want to know who you belong to?”

The jump from overbearing to questioning took a while to catch up. Slowly, I shook my head. Why would I want to know his name when I had no intention of using it? “No.”

Nostrils flared, and he strode away. His suit whispered with every footstep and he paused in the doorway.

“You have to call me something, and I don’t want master or owner. You’re ordered to call me Q.”

“Q?”

He didn’t answer. Striding away, he said over a shoulder, “My staff will show you to your room. Remember. Don’t try to escape. There isn’t any.”





Blackbird



The moment Q left the library, a silhouette appeared. I jumped a mile, holding my chest.

Images of a dark minion throwing me in a cellar to live with rats, filled me with fear. I tried to stay calm, remembering Q hadn’t liked my injuries. I doubted he’d make me sleep in a dank dungeon where I could get sick. After all, if I died of pneumonia where was the fun in that?

The girl, probably mid-twenties, with chestnut hair plaited in a tidy knot, smiled. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” Her accent was soft and feminine; hazel eyes glowed in dusky skin. Why the hell was she working for a man like Q?

Did she know who I was? What I was?

“Please, follow me.” She motioned out the door and into the foyer. “Do you have possessions with you?” she asked as we walked awkwardly side by side.

My eyes popped wide, and I snorted darkly. “No, I don’t have any possessions.”

I was one.

The thought snatched me around the throat. I had to stop thinking that. I wasn’t anything but Tess. I’d survive.

“Oh, well, that’s fine. I’m sure Ma?tre Mercer can arrange a new wardrobe.”

“Mercer?” I trotted beside her up the flight of stairs. The thick blue carpet was like a cloud between my toes. Hang on, Q told me not to speak to the staff. I paused, weighing if talking to this girl was worth whatever punishment he’d grant. I curled my hands.

Screw it, for the first time in a week, someone wanted to talk rather than order or demand.

“The owner of this household. He’s—well, he’s the master.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. I wanted words like fair and a nice employer. Not for the maid to flush and shut up.

In silence, we walked down the longest corridor I’d seen in my life and ascended another twirling staircase before stopping outside a white lacquered door.

“This is yours. I’ve arranged for new bedding, and prepared it for your arrival.”

How long did they know I was coming? Days? Weeks? Fluffing sheets and ironing towels for an unwanted bribe. Who gave a stolen woman as a present, and for what? My mind ran with thoughts of drug dealing, or illegal weaponry, something completely far out to warrant a trafficked girl as collateral. Underhanded bastard Q.