Page 84 of Depravity

“How old are you?” Magnus asks after what feels like an awfully long time of him just staring at me.

“Twen, twenty-one,” I stammer, my voice sounding just as small as I feel in this moment.

His eyebrows rise, he glances over my shoulder at Conrad, and I swear there’s a silent exchange between them. Some unspoken message I can’t fully grasp.

“Aren’t you going to let us inside?” Conrad says pointedly.

Magnus tilts his head like he’s considering slamming the door shut in our faces and then he steps back, holding his hand in what would ordinarily be a gesture of welcome but right now, it feels like another sign of my doom.

As we walk in, it feels like the grandeur of the space swallows me whole. Yes, Conrad’s home is magnificent, but this is on a far bigger scale. Each and every step I take seems to amplify my fear.

Conrad holds my hand firmly, as if he expects me to turn tail and run at any moment.

I dare look at him and his face is unreadable, but the tension between him and Magnus seems to crackle like a thunderbolt.

We make it past the colossal entrance hall and into what must be a long gallery. There’s a massive, ornate chandelier hung, casting fragile light that seems to dance around the room.

Underneath it, waiting as if made of stone, is Liliana. His wife.

Her red hair is styled short, in a pixie cut. She’s tall, serene almost, but she’s not lithe. Her body is curvy, womanly. And in the dress she’s wearing, you can see absolutely every inch of her.

I blink back, registering how sheer the material is. She’s not wearing a bra or any form of underwear. Her breasts hang a little, but her nipples are big and round and they’re all acting like this is perfectly normal, like her wearing this is normal. I don’t look down, I don’t dare to. I don’t know how I’d react to seeing her bare pussy.

But my gaze lands on her chest, on where there’s a brand. The Blake family crest, burnt into her very flesh. I gulp when I see it, and it takes everything I have not to stumble, not to say anything.

“Brynn,” Liliana says with a warm smile, holding her hands out to welcome me.

Of course, Conrad refuses to relinquish his grip and there’s an awkward moment where we just stand there.

Magnus makes a noise that shows he’s less than impressed and Liliana looks at him pointedly before she turns back to us with a perfect mask on her face.

“Dinner is ready,” she says.

Magnus all but rips my arm from his brother’s grasp, pulling me through to the dining room, leaving Conrad to lead his wife in.

“Look at you.” Conrad’s drawl rings out loud enough for us to hear. “Playing the perfect little wife now.”

It sounds like a taunt, one I don’t fully understand. Liliana clearly knows better than to react.

Magnus pulls out a seat for me and I take it quickly, clasping my hands together, trying to shore up the last of my nerves.

The lighting in here is softer, the great chandeliers over our heads don’t glint as brightly. The table is laid for a full silver service and as the entrees are put in front of us, I whisper my thanks and wonder how on earth I am going to even hold my cutlery without shaking.

Around the perimeter of the room, a dozen servants stand in perfectly done up uniforms of navy blue. They keep their gazes ahead, staring off as if they aren’t allowed to even look at us.

It feels like a stark contrast between them and the furious looks Conrad and Magnus kept shooting at one another.

Conrad places his arm over the back of my chair, making an obvious display of possession and then he leans in, whispering into my ear. “See how he dresses her? He likes everyone to see how beautiful his wife is, likes everyone to see how much control he has over her, too. Maybe I should do the same with you. Show you off, show everyone what I have, what they can’t touch.”

I gulp, shutting my eyes, unsure how to respond without pissing him off. But I know my face betrays me, I know it shows exactly what I’m thinking of that idea.

He lets out a chuckle, running a finger down my cheek, “No, your body is for my eyes only.” He says, as if I’m meant to feel honoured by such a declaration.

“Is the food not to your liking?” Magnus asks, cutting through the moment with a voice like ice.

Conrad looks around and tilts his head. “I hadn’t thought to try it yet.” He says. “Not when I have such a delicacy right here already.”

Magnus’s face morphs into something that puts the fear of God into me. He leans forward, staring at us both.

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