Desperation in Death (In Death #55)(83)

And no, they wouldn’t break her, she thought as she walked to her command center. She’d damn well break them.



* * *



While Eve wrote her report, Jonah K. Devereaux examined his newest possession.

The female he’d decided to call Luna had beautiful, perfect skin the color of midnight and eyes of almost feral green. She stood straight, naked but for her collar as he studied her. He approved the slashing, razor-sharp cheekbones, the full lips dyed a bold and blooming red. Her hair tumbled to her shoulders, all glossy black curls touched with that same bold red.

They’d augmented her breasts, but subtly. He didn’t care for overstatements. Long legs, good muscle tone throughout, slim, but not thin.

“Teeth,” he said, and she opened those full lips so he could check them.

White and perfect.

He circled her, found no flaws, and decided Iris had done it again. The woman was a treasure, no question.

Luna—yes, he enjoyed the name—had come from Tunisia, taken at the age of fourteen and shipped, along with others on that acquisition trip, to New York for her training. Iris’s meticulous accounting listed precisely what financial outlay had gone into her—the dental work, the breast work, and so on, and what the investment had earned through photographs, vids, rentals.

All of that had proved lucrative enough to keep her rather than sell. Now at twenty, he considered her prime for his purposes. He preferred the experienced slave, and one he’d have to discipline only rarely.

“You’re Luna. Who am I?”

“You are my master.”

He smiled, pleased with the musical touch of accent on her precise English.

“Why are you here?”

“To serve at your pleasure in all things.”

“And if you serve me well, I’ll treat you well. I have no desire to mar your beauty. This is my room. You only enter it when I bid it. You’ll wear what I give you to wear, eat what I give you to eat. I may, on occasion, share you with others.”

He turned to circle her again, and didn’t see the momentary despair in her eyes.

“If you displease me, I’ll hurt you. If you anger me, I may kill you. You are mine to do with as I wish. When I have no desire for you, you’ll remain in your suite of rooms. You are not to leave them until I deem you’ve earned that privilege.

“Do you understand?”

“I understand, Master. I am your property, and grateful to serve you.”

“Good. Get on the bed. I’m going to fuck you now. I like enthusiasm.”

He used her, then took a pill to revive himself so he could use her again. He liked the feel of her, the sound of her moans and gasps.

Pleased, he ordered her on her knees to test her oral skills, and as she served him—and very well—he decided to send Iris flowers, with something shiny tucked into them.

“You’ll do, Luna, for now.” He gave her breast what he considered an affectionate squeeze. He went to his intercom and signaled one of his domestics.

The blonde in a red skin suit and collar answered promptly. “You’re to show Luna to her quarters. She may have a meal. A salad, some grilled halibut, brown rice, and asparagus.”

“I’ll see to it right away, Master.”

“Shower thoroughly,” he ordered Luna. “Use the lotions I’ve provided you. When I call you back, answer promptly.”

“Of course, and thank you.”

He waved them out, and didn’t see the tear spill down his newest possession’s cheek as she kept her head down.

Well satisfied, he took a shower himself. He groomed, pampering his skin, studying his face and body in the wall of mirrors.

He found no flaws.

He dressed in lounge pants and a loose silk shirt, then left his bedroom suite to go to his private office. There he opened a vault and studied other possessions.

Cash, of course. He could never get enough of it. And those shiny things he loved to own and—when the occasional called for it—give out like party favors.

He selected a bracelet, fiery rubies meshed with icy diamonds. He’d order roses—red and white—and tuck the bracelet in with them.

He closed the vault, poured himself what he considered a well-deserved brandy, then sat at his massive desk. “Contact Iris, personal ’link.”

He started to frown when the ’link signaled a third time.

Then her face came on-screen. “Jonah, how lovely to hear from you.”

“I was about to cut the call.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I needed to move to a quiet spot. I’d just taken a scouting report.”

“And?”

“There’s no sign of that ungrateful girl. Infuriating when I think of the potential there, the waste of our time and efforts. But I’m determined it’s for the best. An obvious troublemaker. Simply a defective product.”

She sent him an easy smile. “I hope you haven’t found the selection I made for you defective or unsatisfactory.”

“On the contrary, I called to congratulate you on your invariably exquisite taste. She’s very much what I had in mind, and performed very well. I’ve named her Luna.”

“What a beautiful name. How kind of you.”

“I’m going to send you a little thank-you gift.”