Page 30 of Cruel Master
He’s the master. I’m the slave. He’ll punish me however he likes.
A moment ago, I was terrified. Now, I’m still terrified, but I’m squirming, too. What will he do to me? Inquiring minds need to know.
Saldar bends down, and I’m pulled into his inhuman, glowing eyes. It should be creepy as hell. Is it weird that I’m starting to get used to it? Even though I know it’s fake, it’s really, really hard to remember that when he’s glowering down at me. He feels less like a psycho in a mask and more like the demon prince I spent so many years creating.
His hand has colorful Japanese ink on the back of it—a grinning demon, which stretches down his fingers. Appropriate. He tucks a strand of my tangly hair behind my ear. The soft gesture tugs at me, touching a memory. Before I can chase it down, he whips his hand behind my head and grips my hair in an iron fist.
The pain squashes my thoughts as he lowers his face to mine. “You took something that wasn’t yours to take. You won’t do it again.”
Chapter Twelve
Hadrian
I’veneverbeensohappy to receive an alert on my phone. My plan was to leave Juliet alone for twenty-four hours, and the minutes dragged by as I worked on checking every single one of Candice’s systems.
I hate feeling like I can’t trust her. Everything looks good, but I can’t shake the feeling something is going on. Especially given the strange message hidden in the flickering light. Once I wrote it out from memory, the pattern was easy to read.
Dots and dashes. Morse code.
But if the code itself was simple, the message it revealed was anything but.
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
A line from TS Eliott’s poem “The Wasteland.” It’s had my skin crawling ever since I decoded it and read the rest of the creepy poem. A direct threat might have been less unsettling.
Kendrick and Jacob received the information with the carefully blank expressions of men who think they might be talking to a madman, and I don’t blame them. First phantom lights, now poetry. I sound crazy to myself.
But just as I thought the slow passage of time might actually drive me insane, my phone beeped. Thank God. Juliet only made it fifteen hours before breaking a rule.
I have a reason to see her. A reason to punish the beautiful body I own. Guilt accompanies the thought, but it’s fleeting. The more I see how Juliet responds to me as her master, the more certain I am that she needed this all along.
If only I’d known before. Everything could have been different. Would she have betrayed me if I had her tied to the bed every night? If I was fulfilling the dark needs I never knew she had? Maybe not.
But, on the outside, I couldn’t have given her the level of control I can in the Compound, and it might not have been enough for her. And if I’d still been married, the Brotherhood would never have approached me—it goes against their code. I’ve always despised the phrase “everything happens for a reason,” but in this case, maybe it’s true.
Juliet’s betrayal led her into the slavery she’s always craved. Who am I to argue with fate?
She’s on her knees, quivering as she waits for me to pronounce her punishment. I tighten my grip on her hair, and she whimpers. It’s a tangled mess, and it has to be driving her mad. She was always vain about her hair. I don’t like it being messy either, but luxuries like conditioner are for well-behaved slaves. And Juliet is a long way away from that.
“I…I didn’t…”
She stammers, but I don’t even think it’s a genuine attempt to deceive me. She’s slipped into the role she loves to play. I can tell by the color in her cheeks and her high, breathy voice. I don’t think she knows she’s doing it, how different she sounds when she slips into that mode.
I slap her across the face. It’s not hard enough to leave a mark, but I still feel it on my palm like a brand. Taking a strap to her ass is one thing, but this feels like a line crossed. I half expect her to burst into tears, but instead, her eyes widen and her lips part as she draws in a shocked breath.
She actually liked it. Unbelievable.
I need to get my head in the right place for this. Last time, as soon as I stepped into the room, Saldar took over. Now, with all the stress of things happening on the outside, I feel dangerously like myself—prone to overthinking everything and fucking this up completely.
I take a deep breath and try to sink into the headspace I need. It doesn’t matter if she likes being slapped. She’s here to learn a goddamn lesson.
“Don’t lie to me. I know what you did. Admit it to me, or you’ll regret it.”
I yank on her hair again, emphasizing the point, and the squeak she lets out travels straight to my cock. I focus on it, on the power I have to deliver discipline. She belongs to me, and regardless of whatever is going on outside, I need to make sure she knows it.
Her throat works as she swallows, and I can almost see her thoughts. Keep up the pointless charade? Or tell me the truth and face the consequences? Knowing Juliet, she could go either direction.
Her words are music to my ears. “You’re right. Sorry.” A short pause. “Master.”
