Mir sat against the headboard of the Blue Room’s king-sized bed, once again staring into the distance at nothing in particular.

She wondered if she’d ever see them again, those men who’d pulled her in and pushed her away at once. The men who’d transported her, if only for a few precious minutes, to another place, lured her into the promise of a sweet dream. One where she could all but taste freedom, affection, intimacy.

One where she could walk away from this awful place.

Unfortunately, the dream had come to a crashing halt as all good things did, and now she was alone again.

But not for long, apparently. A noise grabbed her attention as the door flew open, pulling her eyes towards a figure who was striding rapidly towards the bed. She turned to look, only to see Barton beside her, a strange, focused look on his face.

Great, she thought. The bloody scourge of London has come to see me.

If she hadn’t been so afraid that he’d hurt her, she would have rolled her eyes. Made a retching noise. Anything to illustrate how much the bastard disgusted her. But she was his puppet.

So she smiled, put on the pretty expression that he expected from her, and said, “Hello there,” her voice defaulting to a sexy lilt. It was how Barton liked all the women to speak to him. Any coldness, and he flew into a hard rage.

The boss-man was a delicate flower, so it was best to fake it around him.

Mir hadn’t had to pretend with the shifters, though. All of that—her arousal, her gasping for breath as the Dire Wolf shifter had stroked her—it had all been real. She’d literally ached for him and his gigantic companion.

She still ached. If only they hadn’t tried to get her to talk, to spill the club’s secrets…

“How were things tonight?” Barton asked. “Were our friends satisfied?”

She yanked the hem of her dress down as far as she could, an attempt to dissuade him from putting his hands where Cad’s had been.

“Fine,” she said. “Good. They seemed to enjoy themselves.”

“I’ll bet they did. Well, good girl. They’re important clients. Rich as kings, those two.”

“Hmm,” she replied. “That’s nice.”

She didn’t care about money. Money wouldn’t help her and Bry get out of here. Money was nothing without freedom.

“Listen, I wanted to let you know that I just got a message,” Barton said. “Apparently they’ll be back tomorrow night. I expect you to give them the royal treatment again.”

“Tomorrow?” she asked, unable to conceal the shock in her voice. She’d thought they were gone for good. That at the very least, they’d ask for another, more obliging woman.

Mir’s heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest. No, no, no, she thought. I can’t talk to them again. They ask too many questions. They’re too attractive, too gorgeous, too good at opening me up. If I talk I’ll be in danger, and so will they.

Bryanne will be in danger.

“No. I…I don’t want to…” she began, but before she could finish the sentence, Barton grabbed a handful of her red hair and yanked it hard, wrenching her head to the right. She let out a whimper, knowing that if she screamed, things would get ugly fast.

“I’m sorry,” he snarled, “it sounded like you were about to say you don’t want to do what I tell you. I must have misheard, Miranda. That’s not what you were going to say, is it?”

She shook her head as much as she could under his powerful grip. “No, of course not,” she muttered. “I’ll do whatever you want. You know that.”

“Good. Because you know what I’ll do to you if you say no to me. You know what my men did to your sister.”

With that, he let her go, pulled away from the bed and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

The good news was that Mir wouldn’t have to spend the night with him.

The bad news was that she’d have to see Phair and Cad again, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to resist whatever they were going to offer her next time.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to, either.

Bloody hell, what sort of emotional minefield was she walking through? How had she gotten herself into this mess?

The answer was simple, of course. Barton had gotten her into it by offering her up as a prize to the two highest bidders.

Mir let out a sigh and hugged her hands around her shoulders. She needed comfort. A calming presence.

A friendly face.

It was time to go see Bry.

* * *

Mir pulled the Blue Room’s door shut behind her and walked down the hall until she came to a thick steel door on her left. Unlatching the handle, she pulled it open and stepped through, slipping into a dark stairwell. Only the odd bulb flickered on the landing below, offering her just enough light to see her way into the depths underneath the posh club.

Funny, she thought, how much effort Barton had put into creating a luxurious atmosphere upstairs even as he’d turned the downstairs into a hellish sinkhole. The lowest level was perpetually damp, its concrete walls cracked, cobwebs and mold threatening to overtake dark corners.

She wandered towards the kitchen that lurked in the back of the basement. It wasn’t normally in use by this hour; the club’s denizens didn’t exactly come to the place for the stellar food, anyhow. It existed mostly in case Barton or his men wanted a late night snack.

A solitary bulb, hanging from the middle of the ceiling, told Mir that her sister was up and about. But of course she was. This was Bry’s sanctuary. It was the only place where she could find peace.

She was sitting by herself in a distant corner, engulfed in shadow, staring into space. Like big sister, like little sister, thought Mir as she looked at her. Always trying to escape via our minds.

“Penny for your thoughts,” she said, drawing Bry out of her silent reverie. Her sibling turned to face her, smiling when she saw that Mir was alone.

Mir’s own smile, however, was delayed. The light from the overhead bulb cast hard shadows on the scars on Bry’s left cheek, a reminder of the tactics Barton used to keep the women here—and of what he’d do if any of them ever defied him.

“I seriously doubt if you have a penny hidden anywhere inside that flimsy dress,” Bry joked, ignoring the look on Mir’s face. “But if you must know, I was just thinking about what else I need for tomorrow.” She rose to her feet and moved towards a small table where a notepad and pencil were waiting for her. “I actually enjoy this part of the job,” she said, scrawling a few words onto the page. “Figuring out the menu, preparing, cooking, all that shite. Hard to believe that there’s anything in this world that I enjoy anymore, but there it is.”

“You call this a job? That’s the farthest thing from the truth,” said Mir, her tone laced with bitterness. She couldn’t help it. How else could she talk about the life of submission she and Bry had been forced to live? “You’re a slave, just like I am.”

“Yeah?” Bry replied. “Well, at least I don’t have to fuck anyone.” Her tone was curt, her brows meeting above her eyes.

But almost immediately she softened, pressing her hands into the table, her shoulders hunching. “Shite, I’m sorry,” she said. “That was awful of me.”

“No. It was true,” Mir replied. “You’re right. At least you don’t have to fuck anyone. Not anymore. Not like your big sister does.”

Bry ran over and threw her arms around Mir’s neck, squeezing hard. “I get so angry sometimes,” she said. “I forget that I shouldn’t take it out on you. Are they hurting you? Did someone do something to you?”

Bry always asked that. Every time she and Mir were together. Did someone hurt you, are they treating you badly, are you all right, like she’d miraculously forgotten what someone had done to her in a moment of abject cruelty.

“No,” Mir said. “No one has hurt me. Actually, tonight was…interesting.” She couldn’t help the smile that twisted her lips upwards at the recollection of the two men. Their faces, their bodies, their eyes. Amazing creatures.

Bry took her hand and pulled her over to a couple of stools by the counter, where they perched themselves. “Interesting how?” she asked. “Tell me everything. I’m desperate for interesting.”

Mir leaned in close. “Two men came in. Shifters. I don’t know how or why Barton let them in here, except that apparently they’re very rich. You know how he loves money.”

“That I know,” said Bry. “Money, and hurting women. But yeah, I did think he hated shifters.”

“Hate’s not nearly strong enough a word for it,” Mir said. “The crazy thing is, not only did he welcome them with open arms…” She thought back to the looks on the men’s faces as they’d eyed her across the club. She’d felt their hunger and her own at once, like a flash of light through her insides. A feral, carnal reaction.

“What is it?” Bry asked.

“They asked Barton for me. Both of them wanted to take me to the Blue Room. God, Bry, they were enormous. Gorgeous, too—really amazing. You should have seen them. Every man in the place looked like he was going to implode from feelings of inadequacy.”

Bry’s eyes widened in shock. “Holy bollocks,” she said. “What happened?”

“I went with them, of course. Even if I had what it takes to say no to Barton, I can’t imagine saying no to those men. Only, the funny thing is, I did say no.”

“You said no to sex? With two shifters?”

Mir shook her head. “Oh, God no. I mean, don’t get me wrong—I would love to say no to every man that takes me into that room, Barton most of all. But I would have had sex with those two in an instant. It was like they made me forget where I was, what my life is now. They took me to another world for a few minutes…” She swallowed hard at the memory and smiled. “They were about eight feet tall, all muscles and gloriousness. I’m beginning to think the reason Barton hates shifters is because humans will never be able to match up to them. It’s got to suck as a man to know that there are blokes like that out there. They’re probably hung like bears, too—though I didn’t get to see them naked, so I wouldn’t know.”

Bry let out a laugh, a rare occurrence that made her look so beautiful that Mir wished she could hold up a mirror for her sister to see herself. Of course, she would have denied it. Would have said she’d never be beautiful again. It was what she always said.

“So did you…did they…I mean, I’m sort of curious about these shifters,” Bry said. “Something tells me they shag like animals. Do you think it’s true?”

Mir chuckled. “They might well. I wouldn’t know. They just wanted to talk.”

“What?” Bry’s jaw dropped. “So wait—you’re telling me that shifters are more civilized than humans.”

Mir reached for a cloth napkin that was folded up on the counter and played with its edge. “Seems that way.”

“So, everything we’ve heard about them is bullshit. I’ve been hearing stories about how they’re murderers, rapists, you name it. It’s like propaganda swirling constantly. Every time I spot a newspaper, I see headlines about how a shifter has committed some atrocity or other.”

“Well, after tonight I don’t believe a word of it,” said Mir. “My experience, limited though it may be, is that shifters are the exact opposite of monsters.” She glanced sideways at the door before getting up and walking over to close it. When she’d returned, she leaned towards Bry and whispered into her ear. “They said they want to protect us. They want to help.”

Bry pulled back suddenly and met Mir’s stare, her face set in panic mode. “You didn’t accept the offer, I hope!” she belted out. “You didn’t tell them about our family, about me?”

“No, of course not,” Mir said. “Don’t worry. I told them I had nothing to talk about. That I couldn’t, even if I’d wanted to. Tried to distract them with sex, even. God knows I wanted it badly enough.” Thoughts of Cad’s hands, of Phair’s voice, swam through her mind in a far-too-pleasurable blend of eroticism and temporary bliss.

“It didn’t work?” Bry asked, seeming to calm down a little.

Mir shook her head. “No, not really.” She shifted on the stool, gripping the counter to steady herself.

“I thought you said there was no sex.” Bry laughed, her panic apparently abated. “But it sounds to me like something happened.”

“Only a little something. Let’s just say that I’ve confirmed that shifters are not only not aggressive animals—they’re actually rather…gentle. Skilled, to say the least.”

“That sounds sort of wonderful,” Bry sighed. “This may seem mad, Mir, but I’m happy for you. Happy that you had a taste of something good. I almost wish I could’ve lived the experience vicariously.”

“Well, you can live it vicariously tomorrow night. Apparently they’re coming back.”

“What?” Bry asked. Panic looked like it was overtaking her again. “If they want you to talk,” she said. “They’re going to try harder…”

“Don’t worry, love,” Mir replied, grabbing her hand and squeezing. “I won’t put us in danger. I promise you that I’ll do everything in my power to protect our family.”

Whatever that means.