For two days, I slept in the comfortable bed, protected from the sun by thick black curtains. During the night I explored the room, going no further even though the door was unlocked. I knew it was a test. If I opened the door, things would change.

Inside the room, there was a TV on one wall, the bed, and a bookshelf filled with classic books. I wasted a few hours reading the Shakespeare collection, thinking of how Daederich had told me the stories when I’d been wounded, putting an interesting twist on them just to make me smile. I watched TV, sticking to mindless sitcoms because I didn’t want to see violence. I’d be living through it all too soon.

The peace was unsettling. Both nights were frightening, because Cyrus didn’t touch me. Which should have been a good thing, but instead confused me. I was prepared for him to hurt me. To use me. Instead, he’d given me clothes to wear—and brought clean ones when he came into the room to let me drink from his veins.

I had nothing to say to him and he didn’t seem to have a problem with that. He came into the room silently, bared his wrist each time, then left without a word.

On the third night, I licked his blood from my lips and glared at him. “If you think you’re going to fuck with my head, you’ll be disappointed. I came to you willingly to spare Daederich’s son. I won’t try to escape.”

His lips curved slightly. “Good to know. Sleep well, Lydia.”

Irritated, and not quite sure why, I latched onto his wrist before he could move away from me. “What are you playing at?”

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t hurt me, and we both know how much you enjoy watching me bleed. You haven’t fucked me for days.” Not that I minded, but all that wasted energy being constantly on edge seemed pointless now. “You can’t be satisfied simply having me here. What do you want?”

He leaned against the closed door, his lips curved to one side. “Perhaps I’m waiting to see what you want, Lydia. You’re filthy and I have the option of clean, pretty girls to play with. The door is never locked, but you don’t try to leave. To be honest, you’re boring me. I expected something of a challenge. Something worthy of what I traded you for, because the boy would have made my life interesting. I could have spent my time teaching him to be ruthless. Toyed with him as he grew into a man.” He let out a weary sigh. “Instead, I have you.”

“Too late for regrets now.” I hated hearing him talk about Alrik. Daederich’s son was safe. But he hadn’t been. I could do no more for the boy than what I’d done, but I prayed Vince and Nicole could give him a new life. Help him forget and keep him safe. “You accepted the trade.”

“What if I’ve changed my mind? What if I want him back?”

“You can’t—”

Cyrus reached into the back pocket of his jeans and tossed a pile of photos on the bed in front of me. Each one showed Alrik with Vince and Nicole. Some on a ship, others in what appeared to be a rainforest. Alrik seemed so happy and the couple was always close, looking at him like he was precious to them. Everything Daederich and I had wanted for him.

Every moment caught by one of Cyrus’s people. I’d sacrificed my life to save the boy, but Cyrus had just proved he could reclaim him on a whim. And my indifference was only giving him more reason to do so.

“Tell me what you want.” My hands shook as I gathered the photos. I wanted to hide them, but that wouldn’t change a thing. Alrik would always be at Cyrus’s mercy.

Gently putting his hand over mine, Cyrus met my eyes and pulled me to my feet. He drew me toward the door, shaking his head when I tried to resist. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt I could handle anything he did to me in here. Beyond that door was uncertainty, and that was already messing with my head. He could bring me back to the basement. Bring me somewhere new where there would be tools of torture, or other people, or…

He brought me down the hall, releasing me as he stepped into a room that turned out to be a bathroom. Not just any bathroom. But this was Cyrus’s home, why would he have anything ordinary?

This was a new level of decadence. The house itself was fairly modest, from what I’d seen, but this bathroom belonged in a mansion. The tiles, the sinks, and the bath were all sandstone, smooth and beautiful, the sinks smaller versions of the bowl-shaped bath. There were no windows, but the room was brightly lit with recessed lighting in the ceiling. And heated by a fire burning in a hearth large enough for a man of Daederich’s size to stand in.

All beige and light brown, the room had a soothing quality. I looked around while Cyrus drew a bath, adding oils to the water that filled the room with the scent of vanilla and sweet almond. He motioned me over to him and I went without hesitation.

It would be a long time before I forgot those pictures.

“You’ll enjoy this more if you take off your clothes.” His tone was teasing, but I wasn’t stupid enough to take that as a suggestion. If he was going to pretend to be nice, I’d go with it. Who knew how long it would take before he got bored of the act and went back to being a cruel, sadistic bastard.

Modesty would be silly after everything, so I quickly pulled off the black t-shirt and jeans, then shed the plain underthings. He arched a brow when I stopped beside the bath, gesturing carelessly with his hand for me to get in.

The water was just on the verge of being too hot, which felt amazing as I sank all the way in, biting back a moan as my stiff muscles loosened. I cupped my hands in the water and brought it to my face, cleaning away the grime.

The brush of Cyrus’s fingers across my shoulder stilled me. I swallowed as he lifted my wet hair off my neck. He clucked his tongue and pulled an extendable showerhead from beside the taps, adjusting the temperature before using it to rinse my hair.

“Your hair needs to be washed. You won’t object to me pampering you a bit?”

I shook my head. There was no way to answer without a bite of sarcasm in my tone. He’d effectively shown me what denying him anything would accomplish. I sat up as he turned off the spray, then watched him as he crossed the room, returning with a bottle of shampoo and conditioner. Expensive stuff with the aroma of exotic flowers.

Not something I’d normally use, but I could deal with smelling pretty. I relaxed as Cyrus massaged my scalp, taking his time working the suds through my hair. His fingers pressed into the muscles at the nape of my neck and I had to bite my bottom lip hard to keep from letting out a sound of pleasure. I closed my eyes, just enjoying the sensation, convincing myself there was nothing wrong with a little indulgence before things went bad.

The spray came again. Conditioner. He let me soak for a bit, then handed me a facecloth and body wash. I kept my gaze down as I scrubbed my body, feeling his eyes on me. The tension had returned. Once I was clean, he wouldn’t be quite so repelled. Which I’d expected, but this was different than the other times. Being taken brutally in a cell, or on a dirt floor—hell, even in his bed when I was still healing from burns he’d caused—that was the norm. I’d never been a ‘pampered’ pet. Part of me had always been fighting and one could see that just looking at me.

He held out a big, fluffy towel, waiting patiently as I drained the water and rinsed off. After I stepped out of the bath, he let me wrap the towel around myself and turned to lead the way out. Down the hall to yet another room.

This one was his. It was huge, with an antique Tudor bed and matching dressers and end tables. Black and red silk everywhere. Real bearskin rugs on the floor, a black one by the fireplace, and white one by the bed.

I’d have been disgusted about the floor if I wasn’t secretly relieved it wasn’t human flesh instead. With him, one never knew.

He snorted and I jumped, glancing over at him. He shook his head and patted the bed beside him. “The things you think of me. I’m less of a monster than you imagine, Lydia.”

Doubtful. Wetting my lips, I approached him, perching right on the edge of the bed beside him like I’d leap out of reach if he touched me, even though we both knew I wouldn’t move. I held my breath when he put his hand on my knee. My whole body shook as he reached over and tugged the towel so it fell away from my naked body.

He pressed a finger to the center of my chest. “Lie back.”

Deep, deep breath, hands fisted by my sides, I did as I was told. Staring at the wall, I steeled myself as he climbed over me. Hissed in air through my teeth when his hand framed my jaw and he forced me to look at him.

“My pretty pet. Don’t you see how much better things can be when you’re not fighting me?”

Tears sheened my vision, but I didn’t blink, so they never fell. This was my life until I could find my way to freedom. He would fuck me. I’d fall apart, then put myself back together before he even noticed the damage he’d done. Bent, not broken. Never broken. I was too strong for him to break.

He kissed the corner of my lips, letting out a soft sound of pleasure. “I certainly hope so.”

His weight shifted as he stood, leaving me lying on the bed naked as though he’d lost interest. I put my hand over my mouth to hide my sob of relief when I saw him slip into his closet. Wrapped the towel around me quickly. By the time he came out, I was calm again. Guarding my thoughts since he’d proven again and again that he could read me far too easily.

In his hand was a simple, white dress. My brow furrowed as I looked it over. It wasn’t one a bride would wear. And it wasn’t childlike. With thick shoulder straps and a knee length skirt, it would be appropriate for working in an office. Downplayed elegance, professional and feminine.

There was no way I could fight with it on, but fighting wasn’t an option at this point. If I left Cyrus, he’d simply take Alrik back. I had to play Cyrus’s game in a way that would keep his interest on me.

Not that I had the first idea how to do that either. Arguing about the dress would be stupid, and I didn’t think I’d ever acted like that. Figuring out what had gotten him obsessed with me in the first place was the only thing I could do, but I had no clue where to start.

“Just put the dress on, my dear.” Cyrus laid the dress on the bed, then disappeared in the closet again. I frowned, glancing at his dresser and wondering if I should check there for underthings. He let out a soft laugh. “You won’t need them.”

I swallowed hard. He was dressing me up to take me out. Leaving me accessible meant I’d probably go through much worse than just him fucking me. My hand fisted in the soft material of the dress, wrinkling it. This was nothing that I hadn’t expected, but I’d kind of hoped he’d be greedy for a little bit at least. If he planned to show me off and let others use me…

Maybe he’d gotten so bored already that I wouldn’t live through the night. I had to change that. Had to find a way to make him want me all to himself. My life depended on it.

“You’ve changed.” I turned my back on the dress, facing him as he came out of the closet with a pair of black stilettos. He arched a brow as I folded my arms over my towel-covered breasts. “Did Nicole and Vince hurt you…somehow?” I glanced at the crotch of his black slacks, my lips quirking slightly. “Do you have to use others to abuse me now? Did fucking me once take that much out of you?”

His eyes went wide. Then he threw his head back and laughed. “I admire the effort, Lydia, but you can’t goad me into keeping you here and playing with you all night. I am a social animal. Even if you had entertained me properly over the last few days, my plans wouldn’t change. I miss the crowds. The thrill of a good show.” He came to me, tossing the shoes on the bed before cupping my chin and kissing me softly. “You won’t be on stage. More a sweet little snack for the executive guests. Nothing you can’t handle.”

“That’s good.” I fisted my hands by my sides, accepting that I couldn’t get out of this. At least I knew what I was dealing with. Cyrus was unstable, and hopefully I’d be able to use that in the future. But tonight, all I could hope was he cared enough to keep me alive. He might claim to be bored with me, but I had to believe I was still worth all the trouble he’d gone through to get me back. Still, I couldn’t help pushing him, just a little. “Maybe, this way, I won’t get bored.”

The back of his hand connected with my cheek. He shoved me onto the bed and the towel opened, leaving me exposed to him. He leaned over me, one hand cupping my cunt, the other braced on the bed by my head. “Don’t do that, Lydia. You won’t keep me interested by irritating me. I’d hate to get so angry that I kill you in the heat of the moment. Regrets after will do neither of us any good.”

Maybe not, but he’d lost his cool aloofness. He was hard against my thigh and he was staring at me, eyes filled with heat and hunger.

Bending down, he licked the trail of blood spilling from my bottom lip. “I almost forgot… Sometimes I almost wish I didn’t want to hurt you so much. But just almost. You’re most beautiful when you’re fighting to stay alive. I want to keep you that beautiful forever.”

“This is me, Cyrus. I won’t change.” My gaze locked with his and I lost the will to hide my intentions. They were no secret anyway. “I will fight you until one of us dies.”

“I certainly hope so, Lydia. I’d have no clue what to do with you if you became tame.” He smiled and kissed my lips. Then he stood. “Now get dressed. I have a surprise for you. It’s rude to show up late to a party thrown in your honor.”

Yes, mustn’t forget my manners. I rolled my eyes and put the dress on. Once I’d slipped into the shoes, Cyrus offered his arm.

I took it. I’d tested my limits enough for one night, and it had only just begun.

A short drive and we parked in front of a grand theater. My composure held as a valet took the keys from Cyrus. As Cyrus led me inside to balcony seats that looked down at the stage for the perfect view.

If he’d brought me directly to the stage, I wouldn’t have been surprised. Instead, he let me sit and handed me a glass of champagne from a tray offered by a passing waiter. We were the only two on this balcony, but the others were full. A fairly large crowd crammed into the stands below, surrounding the small orchestra.

Sipping the champagne, I surveyed the area, trying to get a read on the situation. Maybe I’d be used for a later act. Cyrus had made it sound like I’d be up front and center with the ‘party in your honor’, but I’d be stupid to assume he meant that literally.

No reason to panic about the inevitable. When it was my turn to suffer, I’d endure as well as possible. If I could get a few moments, or a few hours respite, I’d take it.

The lights dimmed and the soft base of a haunting, classical song began to play. I didn’t know the song—the sound was disturbing though. The hairs on the back of my neck stood as the wail of the strings rose over the hush of the throng below. Shadows moved across the darkened stage, a struggle with the performers. Chains rattled, a grunt of pain, then a low, masculine curse.

Cyrus placed his hand over mine on the arm of the chair and leaned closer. “Veil of darkness. Fairly modern, but I do enjoy it.”

“What?” I couldn’t take my eyes off the stage. That curse resonated inside me, familiar. My throat tightened and I shook my head. I’d imagined a voice that would keep me safe because I needed the comfort. I had a good chance at suffering on that stage for the mass of onlookers. Naturally, my subconscious would try to spare me from facing them alone.

“The song.” Cyrus patted my hand. “No matter. Enjoy the show, my dear.”

Who cares about the fucking song? My whole body trembled as the spotlights hit the stage. I pressed my eyes shut, but that didn’t erase what I’d just seen.

A dull grey carpet covering the wooden stage, mimicking a cement floor. Mirrors all around, reflecting the crowd, making it look as though they were so much closer to the men on stage.

Such a perfect replica of my first memory. With my eyes closed, I felt the chains on me. The horror of his hands touching me in the darkness. I’d been blind at first, could only hear him as he urged me not to fight. As he did his best to keep me alive without hurting me too badly.

The harsh sound of metal brought my attention back to the stage, where the bound captive struggled more than I’d been able to in his place. A heavy metal glove encased one of his hands and blood trailed down his wrists between the chain links on his arm as he strained to pull free. More chains held him on his back on the floor of the stage, his other arm against his side, his legs spread wide. He was so much stronger than I would ever be, his muscles bulging as he bucked against the restraints, but our captors had made him just as helpless.

A thick blindfold covered his eyes, but he turned his head toward the approaching figure as though losing his sight didn’t hamper his senses at all. “You fucking swore, you son of a bitch. Death first.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, the figure standing over the bound man shook his head. He undid his belt and unzipped his black jeans. “You know I can’t do that. Stop fighting, you’ll only hurt yourself.”

I put my hand over my mouth as bile flooded my throat.

Don’t. Please don’t.

“I’ll fucking kill you, Daederich.”

Standing over Elah, his shoulders back and his hands fisted at his sides, Daederich nodded. Then he looked up, squinting into the spotlight, surveying the crowd. His gaze never reached me, but his words did.

“If you manage, you’ll be free. And you’ll save her.” He returned his focus to Elah and let out a bitter laugh. “But right now, you’re useless, hunter. She survived this and worse and so will you.”

Kneeling between Elah’s thighs, Daederich spit on his palm and took hold of Elah’s slack dick, stroking him as he leaned over the other man’s tense body, their bare chests almost touching. He spoke quietly, likely using the same words he had with me. Trying to make Elah relax to spare him as much pain as possible.

“Just let it happen.”

Tears trailed down my cheeks as I watched them. They’d lost their freedom in their search for me and Cyrus would make sure they both suffered. This show was for my benefit. He’d taken the last scraps of hope I’d clung to and torn them to shreds.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” Cyrus sighed when I glared at him. “Don’t look at me like that. Much as I’d love to take credit, I’m not responsible for them being here. I am simply a guest, like you.”

He had to be lying, but why bother? Daederich and Elah being his prisoners wouldn’t change what I’d be willing to do for Cyrus. Not now that I knew he could get his hands on Alrik whenever he wanted. The men would go through hell, as would I, but Daederich was right. I’d survived before and would again no matter what I had to do. I refused to give up and have the little boy taken to replace me.

Which meant I couldn’t react to what I saw on the stage. Couldn’t lash out at Cyrus and demand he set them free.

“She’s so tame. I’m not sure what you see in her, my lord.” A sweet, feminine voice came from right behind me and I almost shot out of my seat. Something in her tone sent an unexpected chill creeping up my spine, like the vision of a beautiful butterfly, right before it settles on your skin and you realize those tiny legs are no different than a spider’s. Only, a spider can be brushed off and will scurry away.

Pretty butterflies, with their fancy wings, will flutter around you, returning again and again, tangling in your hair as they reach for you. But as revolting as I found butterflies, they were harmless.

This woman wasn’t.

“Rosali, I’d hoped you’d join us.” Cyrus stood and took the woman’s hand, bringing it to his lips before guiding her to the chair on his other side. He seemed tense, his smile a little strained, not quite reaching his eyes as he remained standing while she settled down gracefully. “I’m truly impressed by the staging, my sweet. However did you manage to replicate the scene so well? Daederich is nearly impossible to read and all those who witnessed it are dead.”

Giggling, Rosali took Cyrus’s hand and pressed it to her cheek. “You’re still alive. Have you forgotten how easily I can read you?”

Cyrus’s lips thinned. “I suppose I had.”

Sighing, Rosali brought her attention back to the stage. “They’re boring you, aren’t they? Joe was fucking her by now. Why is he being so careful with this man?”

Her question seemed to please Cyrus, because he chuckled as he settled back in his seat. “’Joe’ was aroused by Lydia. As much as he claimed to want to save her life, he was craving her tight little pussy. He’s not quite so motivated with Elah.”

Pressing my fist against my lips, I watched Daederich, still leaning over Elah, and realized Cyrus was right. Daederich wasn’t even hard. He had his forehead pressed against Elah’s chest and his hand around both their dicks, but his harsh strokes didn’t seem to be working. And the crowd was getting restless.

“How do I motivate him?” Rosali tipped her head back, setting her adoring gaze on Cyrus as he considered the men below.

She looked desperate to please Cyrus, and he appeared much more comfortable indulging her than dealing with whatever power she had over him. I wondered if she was older than him. How else could she see his thoughts?

If she was, she’d be a very good friend to have.

Glancing over at me, Cyrus smirked and shook his head. “No, pet.” He didn’t elaborate. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and smiled at Rosali. “You’ve made this too easy on him. Release the hunter and let them fight for dominance. He’ll be much more entertaining if there’s a chance he could lose.”

“I’d be a fool to give the hunter a chance at freedom.” Rosali frowned. “Even crippled as he is, it took ten men to chain him.”

“Then the question should be, ‘what will hold him better than any chain?’” Cyrus reached out and I forced myself not to duck out of reach as he stroked my hair. “He’s in love with my pet. You may use her, so long as you do no lasting damage.”

Rosali flashed Cyrus a brilliant smile as she shot up from her chair. She danced over to me, latching onto my wrist and jerking me to my feet, laughing when I tried to pull away.

Cyrus put his hand on the small of my back. “Don’t fight her, pet. Hurting you will amuse her, and there’s nothing I can do to protect you.”

I bit my lip as Rosali shoved me against the railing. Latching on to the smooth, polished wood, I stared down at Daederich and Elah as they both lifted their heads as though they could sense me.

Taking out her phone, Rosali touched the screen, then spoke softly. “Release the hunter and aim the spotlight on me.”

The spotlight shifted, blinding me for a moment. As my vision returned, I saw several figures in black robes surround Daederich and Elah. Elah was unchained and helped to his feet. He tore off the blindfold and tossed it aside. Fixed his clothing as quickly as Daederich had. A flimsy layer of protection, more for the mind than the body.

“We’re going to play a new game.” Rosali called out to the men. She shifted behind me, running her hand over the swell of my breasts. A knife flashed in the spotlight as she held it before me. “Joe, I’m very disappointed that you didn’t accept my gift. But you’ll have another chance. Fuck him so we may all enjoy seeing the hunter become your bitch.”

All around the stage, the crowd cheered, egging Daederich on and mocking Elah.

“If you wanted him to fuck me, you should have left the chains.” Elah squared his shoulders, his lips tipping up on one side. “What’s to stop me from leaving this stage and killing you all?”

The knife sliced down, cutting my dress and my flesh. I bit into my cheek to keep from crying out at the sharp pain as my blood soaked the white fabric.

“By the time you reach me, hunter, the woman you’ve sacrificed so much for will be in little pieces, raining over the crowd. I’m not afraid to die, so come at me if you’d like.” Rosali rested her chin on my shoulder and flicked her tongue over the blood-slicked flat of the blade. “But if you want her to live, your only choice is which one of you is getting fucked. Be grateful I’m giving you a fighting chance to be on top.”

Elah’s gaze met mine and the pain I saw there nearly brought me to my knees. He was torn between playing Rosali’s twisted game and following his training as a hunter. Hunters were rarely apprehended alive. They would take down as many as possible and die fighting.

And I wanted to tell him to fight. I’d rather see him dead than watch him suffer the way Daederich and I had.

But he was waiting for me to give him a sign. To tell him if I was ready for my life to end.

“Consider carefully, my love.” Cyrus trailed his fingers up my arm as he leaned close and whispered in my ear. “Who will I have to play with if she kills you?”

Alrik. I swallowed hard and shook my head. “You’d let her kill me?”

“She’s my sire. I can’t stop her, Lydia.”

Shit. I wouldn’t bother asking if things could get worse. They would.

I met Elah’s eyes, praying he’d understand. His jaw hardened as he inclined his head. He spun around to face Daederich.

Just in time for Daederich’s chain covered fist to connect with his jaw.

As Elah went down, Cyrus chuckled, rubbing my arm as though to warm me, ignoring the blood he smeared over my flesh. “Very well done. Our man isn’t afraid to fight dirty. He’ll have the hunter back in chains even faster than he got them on you.”

“Daederich didn’t put the chains on me.” I wet my lips with my tongue as I watched the man I loved quickly wrap the chains around Elah’s arms, trapping him facedown before the hunter could recover and fight back.

Daederich found a padlock in seconds and the fight was over. Elah struggled, but the chains were made to hold a creature of his strength. He snarled as Daederich pulled off his belt.

“He’s always in control, Lydia. Surely you know that?” Cyrus’s tone held a level of sympathy that made me sick. “Keep your eyes on his face and consider what was asked of him. He was told to fuck Elah, not beat him. But he will hurt the other man to weaken him and entertain the crowd. Above all, Daederich has always been a survivor.”

There was a grim determination in Daederich’s expression as he wrapped half the belt around his fist. Without warning, he swung the belt down across Elah’s back. Elah held still, his head bowed, not making a sound.

“He’s hard, but he’s enjoying this too much to end it quickly.”

I wanted to deny Cyrus’s words, but with every lash of the belt, the man I loved changed a little more into a cold, heartless stranger. If I didn’t know better, I’d believe Cyrus’s claim. Daederich was enjoying this.

The smirk on his lips when he finally drew a grunt of pain from the captive hunter hurt worse than the knife that had sliced so deep I still hadn’t healed.

He wasn’t a pawn in this game. His hand was among those moving the pieces.