Page 51 of Claimed By a King

“You would like that, wouldn’t you, Sugar?”

I don’t have it in me to answer him, so I remain quiet.

Since he raped me the first time, it’s become an almost daily activity. The bad days are when it’s more than once per day, the good is when it’s only once, and the perfect ones are when Rusty sends him on club errands, which is the only thing that keeps him away.

For once, Gunner doesn’t demand a reply, and just laughs as he leaves the bathroom. As soon as he’s out of sight, I lean behind the toilet and use my fingers to erase the number I’d drawn in the dirt and grime on the floor.

As I write “40” Ilet out a sigh.

That’s how many days it’s been since Gunner killed Chris in cold blood. Guilt makes my stomach clench so hard it feels like a cramp. Chris did nothing wrong, it was my need for freedom that killed him. I touched him without thinking about what Gunner would do, and Chris paid for that with his life.

As though feeling my inner turmoil, my hand throbs with a phantom pain I should no longer be feeling. Remnants from the glass of the frame I deliberately cut myself on, leaving my DNA in Chris’ house. A desperate attempt to leave something more than the note. Fat good it did me.

Though I’m sad he had to die, all I could think on the drive back home was that no one was coming for me. In my mind, I’d already tasted the freedom I craved so badly, but Gunner snuffed that spark of hope out with a single bullet.

After we returned from the stables, he raped me again. Then, Gunner took me to the room I woke up in when I first got here, where he tied me naked to the bed. On his way out, he made a big production of telling me it was my own fault, and that I had no one to blame but myself.

He left me in the dark with spiders and insects biting and crawling all over me for three days. Three fucking days without food, water, or even access to a toilet.

The first day, I screamed until my vocal cords felt like they were bleeding. When that didn’t help, I cried myself to sleep, only to constantly be woken back up by the creepy crawlies.

I shudder and try to bury the memories that I’d prefer not to dwell on. I’ve learned my lesson now.

I know now that this is it—my life will never change. I’m alone, living with people who either hate me or want to use me.

With each passing day, I feel less like the person I once was. I have no hopes or dreams. No ambitions or desires. Most days, I’m not even sure I want to go on living. I’m like an abused animal starving for affection. Though, unlike most animals, I’m too stupid to show my master complete obedience.

Maybe there are still some remnants of the brat Gray accused me of being inside me.

After getting dressed, Gunner tells me that I have to help Irina and the women today. “I’m going out with Rusty and Cat. But Noose and the others will be keeping a close eye on you, Sugar. So don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t,” I dutifully agree.

“You know what happens if you do,” Gunner says in a conversational tone that doesn’t hint of the warning I know it to be.

As soon as I’m dressed, Gunner pulls me flush against him. “Listen to Irina and do everything she says.” There’s an urgency to his tone that I can’t quite make sense of.

“Okay,” I say.

“I’ll be gone for a few hours. But she’ll take care of you.”

Instead of asking pointless questions, or pointing out that I don’t want whatever care Irina has in store for me, I just stand there, barely reacting as he kisses me goodbye.

Less than half an hour after Gunner left, locking the door after him, I hear a key being slid into the lock.

“Are you in there, Zoe?” Irina asks seconds before opening the door.

I roll my eyes at the stupid question.

“There you are,” Irina beams. “I bet you’d love to see some different walls, so let’s get you out of here.” Her relaxed tone and posture puts me on edge. It’s so different from the hateful looks I’ve become used to, and I don’t like it.

If Irina notices the suspicious glances I throw her way as we walk to the main room, she doesn’t let on. She’s busy pointing at things and telling me funny stories. Like I’d ever let my guard far enough down to laugh with her.

What in the hell is going on?

“Now we’re all here,” Irina announces as we enter the room.

Most of the other women are already busy doing… it looks like they’re busy doing some kind of arts and crafts.

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