Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(45)

The Russian puffed his chest, glowing with pride. Why did he care if Q found me satisfactory? He bought me as a bribe to make Q do something. But what?

“I won’t share my contact’s name. But I requested a white girl. I know you have preferences.”

My eyes shot to Q, but his posture hadn’t changed. He took a sip from a chilled glass of wine. “Fine. Consider our dealing complete.”

The Russian scowled. “How will I know you’ll keep your promise?”

Q shifted ever so slightly; my skin prickled with the change of hospitality. Q seemed to suck shadows from the room, cloaking himself in authority. “You doubt my work ethic?”

The Russian clenched his jaw, looking from Q to me. “When will we see contracts?”

Q played with a cufflink, taking his time. “Three months. That’s how long these things take. But you have my word. And that is law.”

Russian Lumberjack snorted, rolling his shoulders. He didn’t look happy with the arrangement, but I doubted there was anything he could do. Q was clearly the one in control. Just like my situation—the whole sex slavery thing.

I wanted to roll my eyes. I didn’t want to go crazy, and that’s how I felt dangling there.

After a pause, the Russian stood, making his way to the chocolate fondant. Q watched with narrowed eyes, before turning to speak with Big Nose and Grey Moustache. 1920’s Man’s inquisitive sapphire eye’s bounced between Q and me. Thoughts raced in his gaze, but his face remained blank.

Heart galloped as I looked at Russian Lumberjack. His posture scared me. He flashed a look at Q while he waited for chocolate to spill into a jug. Eyes shadowed with jealousy and a greedy hunger for power.

I turned to Q. Should I warn him the Russian wasn’t his friend, but his enemy? What are you thinking, Tess? It isn’t your business. Who cares?

As much as I didn’t want to admit it—I did care. Not for Q’s safety, but for my own. If Q submitted to men like the Russian, my gilded cage would fast become a dank dungeon.

My body swung in the bindings, and I clenched my abs to stay facing Russian Lumberjack. He moved too slowly, as if thinking about something other than getting food.

My skin erupted into goosebumps as instincts kicked in. The same instincts that screamed not to go in the café in Mexico. I didn’t like this. What’s not to like? You’re mostly naked, hanging from a ceiling for five men to perv at while they eat.

I hated the whole scenario, but something about the man in the white jumpsuit did not sit well in my gut.

The Russian moved suddenly, carting a plate full of marshmallows and a little pouring jug overflowing with melted chocolate. He made to go back to the table, but at the last second changed his mind, bee-lining for me.

I twisted in the cuffs, trying to back away, but it was no use. My eyes shot to Q, imploring him to pay attention and stop this, but his head was bowed deep in conversation with Grey Moustache.

The Russian stopped at the bottom of the pedestal, gawking at me. Up close, his skin was pockmarked from acne and shone with grease. His buzzed hair looked coarse, and smelled of too much hair product. He shifted, smiling with a few gold capped teeth. “Privet, krasivaya devushka.” He caressed my knee through the filigree material. “It means, hello, pretty girl.” His voice rumbled, sending fear into overdrive. Where he touched, my skin crawled, and if skin could throw up, it would.

Again I looked at Q, disbelieving he’d let the man touch me. He didn’t seem to notice or care. His body twisted away, hands clasped tightly on the table as he nodded at something Big Nose said.

He shut me out with a bear of a man who gazed with unbridled horniness. It wasn’t a sensual kind of lust like Q; it was a savage need to rut. To cause pain. I had no doubt he’d enjoy my screams.

With a sadistic smile, the Russian reached for the jug of melted chocolate, and with a calculated gleam, dribbled some on my thigh. The chocolate teetered on the edge of too hot; I hissed between my teeth.

Q shifted, but didn’t turn to look. I wanted to scream, but I didn’t know if I’d be in deeper trouble. Maybe by not looking, Q gave the Russian permission to do what he wanted.

Russian Lumberjack grinned and placed the plate of marshmallows on the floor, but kept the small jug of chocolate.

Oh, f*ck.

“Don’t. Leave me the hell alone,” I demanded, voice shaky.

Q’s pale green eyes landed on me and skin prickled with relief. He wouldn’t let this man taunt me.

My mouth parted as something white-hot passed between Q and I, then he turned away.

My heart stopped, betrayal coated my tongue. He cut me out with one twist of his powerful body.

Tears rushed as the Russian chuckled, reaching with fat fingers to grasp my thigh. Holding me in place, his big wet tongue licked chocolate off my skin, dragging saliva over flesh and dress.

I shuddered in repulsion, trying to wriggle from his grip, but he pinched harder. “No struggling, pretty girl.” With the jug high, he poured another dollop, on my foot. With a gross grin, he dropped and sucked it off. I tried to kick, but I needed toes on the ground to stay stable. I didn’t want to spin out of control like I did with 1920’s Man. At least he’d been kind and secured me. This man would probably make me spin, disorientating, making me sick.

The Russian stood, drizzling chocolate on my stomach. It trickled down my front, hardening quickly, but not fast enough. It oozed onto my lower belly, dangerously low, way too close to my core.