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  There was unfinished business I needed to take care of, and until then, I was stuck. I refused to leave without saying my peace. In all reality, it didn't matter how I left, leaving on my own good graces wouldn't be granted with a handshake and an admiring nod.

  The day I decided to leave would be my last.

  Men like Sylvan don't release their grip, they don't bid farewell and wish you good luck. Men like him make sure there are no loose ends, they'd nod you goodbye and wave a hand to the executioner. One bullet, that's all they needed to keep their secrets buried.

  And that didn't bother me one fucking bit. I had accepted my fate long before I got there. I knew getting involved would end with me in the ground.

  But Imperial wasn't going to have to endure this place for any longer than was necessary. The minute I could get her out, I would. She just had to do what I told her to.

  I didn't give her any directions that were too hard to follow. No talking, no looking, stay behind. That was it.

  Why is it so fucking difficult for her to listen?

  She needs answers, M, you know that!

  Her feet slapped and smacked behind me as her fingers gripped my hand to keep up. Was she looking? Was she watching what was going on around her?

  Not if she knew what was good for her.

  It wasn't just Ethan watching my every move, there were others. Men who wanted to move up, sick assholes that wanted a taste of power; when all they really deserved was having their balls cut off.

  But eyes were eyes, every single move I made had to be exactly what they expected.

  Coming to the end of the first row of seats, I whipped her forward and shoved her into the aisle. “On your knees,” I demanded, placing my hands on her shoulders and guiding her down to the floor. She didn't resist, her body was malleable, folding over in submission.

  Standing beside her, I stroked my jaw and tried to calm myself down. She didn't know what this world was, she was pushed into it. . . By me.

  If she only knew what was buried in my past, what drove me into a place like this. . .

  What keeps me here.

  I was just as bad as all the other men in this room, I wouldn't deny that. The things I had done to get there, the women I had traded just to put my name on a pedestal, to get me noticed by the man in charge.

  I had one mission, one single goal in mind, but it never involved bringing in someone who was truly innocent.

  Imperial was unaware of what she had stumbled upon, she didn't get to hear the speech I would give the other girls to get them to come willingly. She had fallen into the rabbit hole, and there was no way out, except me.

  'Not everything is smoke and mirrors, Machi. Maybe sometimes, things are exactly what you think they are.' Her voice played in my head, reminding me how much hate I had for this place.

  Girls came and went, some stayed by proxy, some went home with high bidders and their heavy hand, others. . . Others never made it out at all.

  That part tore at me the most, it made it harder and harder each time for me to turn my head and keep up this charade.

  But the show hadn't even begun yet, I hadn't even started. Everything I had done was just to get in, and I couldn't get out until it was finished, until I finally delivered what Sylvan had coming.

  She doesn't belong here.

  I'm the only one that can keep her safe.

  Imperial was staring down at her knees, her fingers wildly tangled with each other in her lap. She didn't move, she didn't roll her head or shift her waist, she just stayed completely still.

  Taking the seat beside her, I rested my forehead in my hands. “I'm not angry with you, I can't be. It's not your fault you don't understand yet.”

  Her leg wiggled as she tucked her fingers between her thighs. But she didn't dare lift her face to mine.

  “I just need you to trust me, you have to trust me.” Dropping my hand, I grabbed her forearm and lifted it up, braiding our fingers together.

  She still wouldn't look up at me, but I could see her eyes. The soft glow of light over us made her eyes glisten as tears sat on the surface. She wasn't blinking, her gaze was wide and empty, holding the tears in place like glass shields.

  I could feel her muscles quivering and her hand shaking as I held it tight. I wanted to console her, I wanted to place her head in my lap and brush my fingers through her silky sun-colored hair.

  None of this was her fault. If she hadn't been there that night, she wouldn't have ended up in here with me. I almost let her go, I almost told her to just run. . . But they came back, Fior and Z showed up sooner than I expected.

  It was too late.

  If I had more time—even five more fucking minutes, she would have been on her way home. Only that's not what happened.

  Rubbing the back of her hand, I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. “From here on out, don't question what I tell you to do. I'm not trying to be a dick, I'm trying to give you what you want.”

  Her hair swept over her cheek, covering her face and blocking me from seeing her. I didn't like it, I didn't want the soft profile of her jaw or the pouty lips that dressed her face to be hidden from view.

  There was a tenderness in my heart that beat for her, a glimmer of weakness for this poor girl that ended up in my hands. She had crossed into a battleground, unaware of the war that was taking place.

  She wasn't meant for any of this. Imperial didn't come from the streets or have a thirst for the needle. Her mind wasn't charred and corrupted by the transfer of hands and sex for a hit from the pipe.

  Imperial was just a girl, a normal girl.

  She can handle it, she's strong.

  I can feel it, I can feel what she has inside.

  All the others I brought through those doors were teased and tempted by the devil's playground. I tempted them with money, with a roof over their head and all the niceties that came with it. And they agreed to it, allowing this world to have them.

  Women of the streets were spit on, they were used and abused as if they didn't deserve to breathe in the first place. Not one of my girls ever appeared on the news because the world just didn't care enough about the lost soul who chose drugs over a working class career or having a family.

  I saw it differently, I knew the world was wrong. And that was exactly what I set out to prove.

  Sniffling, she brought her fingers to her cheeks and wiped them clean. Letting her head fall onto my thigh, she wriggled her body in tight. Wrapping a hand around the base of my leg, her fingers curled over the tongue of my shoe and played with the small tag on the inside.

  The weight of her against me made my heart beat faster, the scent of coconut in her hair forced my muscles to stiffen. There was something that sparked inside me, something that lit a small flame in my gut, making me warm.

  She was beautiful, far too beautiful to be in a place like this. Not one inch of this girl belonged there, she was meant for more, meant for a world that wasn't filled with this type of pain.

  Running my fingers through her hair, I let the frizzled strands tighten around my fingers then loosely fall off. “This place is harsh, Pixie, it will eat you up and spit you out, devouring anything you ever thought you were.” Twirling a thick lock around my hand, I spiraled it tight against her scalp. “It's not kind, it's not forgiving. . .” Pausing, I caressed the side of her face, drawing long strokes down her throat. “It's exactly what nightmares are made of.”

  I felt her inhale a sharp breath and hold it in. Her back dipped in as she rolled her shoulders, creating a small pool at the base of her spine. Sweat was beading up over her skin, riding the center of her back and filling the tiny crevice.

  My eyes kept drifting to the watery basin, ready to taste her, ready to lick her up and feel her coat the back of my throat.

  No. . . You can't, it's not allowed. They'll kill you if they think you crossed the line.

  Death can't find me yet, I need more time.

  Moving her head against my l
eg, she didn't look up. Reaching around, I placed my hand under her chin and tipped her face up.

  Her eyes were closed, pinched up tight; a silent demand of not wanting to learn. Leaning down, I kissed her forehead, allowing the subtle flavor of her skin to seep between my lips.

  “You don't have to fear me, I'm not a monster, even if you think I am.” Rubbing the spot my lips had graced, I ran my thumb over her eyebrows. “You're only going to see what you think you already know. But it's not what you think it is, not all of it. We all have our reasons, some are different than others, and mine. . .” Biting my bottom lip, I took in a deep breath. “Mine run black.”

  Sylvan had already done enough, he had tarnished my existence and turned living into torture. Until her. . .

  Imperial brought the first glimmer of light back into my dying soul. She made me feel when I thought there was nothing left to live for.

  I wasn't going to let any harm come to her, no one would touch her, no one would lay a finger on her.

  The curtains drew back as the lights dimmed to blackness. A bright spotlight hit the stage, illuminating the vast open space.

  Grabbing the sides of her face, I turned her towards the stage. “You can look now, Imperial.” Holding her jaw in my hand, I placed my lips on the outside of her ear. “Don't be afraid, things aren't always as they appear, remember that.”

  Chapter Eight

  Imperial

  I didn't want to look. I didn't see want to see anymore of this place. The moans never stopped, the heavy breathing and loud throaty growls continued to plague my thoughts and infiltrate my brain.

  I wanted to throw up.

  Music began to play, filling the room with strums of a violin and the thick chord of a cello. There was this strange mix of sex and soft classical tones, mingling in my gut and making my heart vibrate with every beat.

  “Don't be afraid. . .” His words weren't soothing.

  “Remember, things aren't always as they appear.” How would that make me any less anxious about what was coming?

  I was taken, bound, forced to hear sounds that weren't right, screams that bled acts of torture, not pleasure.

  How can I survive this?

  A loud voice echoed overhead, forcing my eyes to open. The stage was lit up bright, twinkling under the single spotlight.

  “Welcome, I know you're all ready to get your hands on what we have to offer tonight.” A man in a charcoal black suit and florescent yellow tie threw his hand up in the air, smiling from ear to ear.

  The room exploded in deep grunts and hollers as men cheered in every direction. Some jumped to their feet and pumped their arms, others stayed seated, just holding a small paddle and smirking with a grin that was vile.

  What the hell is going on? What the fuck is this?

  “Yes, yes,” the announcer said, flapping his hands to settle everyone down. “And we'll get to that soon enough. But first, how about a little playtime?” Winking, he stepped to the side and fanned out his arm.

  The room fired up again with claps and cheers, yelps and barks. Taking a moment to look around, I let my eyes drift from side to side. I was stunned.

  On my right, a man was laying back in his seat with his hand rested on the back of a woman's head, and she was sucking him off. His eyes rolled in his skull as her head bobbed up and down, throating his cock.

  To my left, another man had a woman bent over the seat, her ass splayed out for anyone in the room to see. His pants were around his ankles as he stroked himself, while his free hand teased her clit, slipping into her sex and then circling her asshole.

  Holy fucking shit. . .

  All around me I heard sex, moans, the sounds of bodies as they slapped together unrestrained. I didn't know what to think or what to do.

  I wanted to look away, I wanted to cover my eyes and stop watching something that was meant to be private, meant to be done behind closed doors. But I couldn't.

  It was like driving by a horrible accident and knowing you shouldn't look, but you do anyway. I was mesmerized, drawn in by the allure and taboo nature of everything I was seeing.

  Machi's palm pressed into the center of my back, scratching his fingertips up and down my spine. Tapping me gently on the shoulder, I looked up. His face was blurry at first as my eyes adjusted from the spotlight to the darkness behind me.

  His face came into view, his lids heavy as he blinked with a slow nod and tender smile.

  You want me to look?

  Nodding again, he placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

  He was telling me it was okay, that looking was allowed now. His eyes were giving me permission to explore, to take it all in, while his touch told me not to be afraid.

  A tingle began in my lower belly as I watched the man beside us wrap the woman's hair around his fist and yank her head with a violent snap. Her back arched hard, mouth dropping open wide as she moaned.

  She didn't seem to be in pain or fear, she didn't look like she was being forced against her will. . . From what I could see, she was enjoying herself.

  The crowd started to cheer again, drawing my attention back to the stage. The man was gone, his presence replaced by a guy in a mask. The single light was now set on the board in the background, illuminating a woman.

  What the hell. . .

  She was confined to the board, her arms and legs drawn up and out, leaving her completely open and vulnerable. A red silk blindfold covered her eyes, her body bare, exposing every inch to the massive group filling the seats.

  Squeezing Machi's leg, I pressed up onto my knees to get a better look. He didn't speak, he didn't whisper words of comfort or assurance into my ear. He held me as his hands curled under my arms, lifting me up onto his lap.

  Wrapping them around my waist, he rested his head on my shoulder and stared at the stage. I wanted to ask him what was going to happen, what that man was going to do to her, but I didn't. I sat in silence, just watching, waiting to get the answer myself.

  The woman's head rolled to her shoulder as her back bowed, lifting off the wood. The masked man stepped closer, pulling his cock from his pants and stroking it.

  Touching her softly at first, he gently dragged his fingers over her chest, circling her nipples and trailing his hand down her belly.

  The woman moaned as her nipples stiffened and goosebumps broke over her skin. I couldn't stop from feeling aroused as I watched the reaction of her body. She was caressed and teased, rocking and shifting in a way that welcomed his hands.

  Licking her throat, the man squeezed his cock firmly. He was hard, his muscle thick and throbbing as he pumped it from base to tip.

  My body was responding, it was turning from cold and stale to hot and zealous. My nipples perked, rubbing against the thin fabric of my bra, my sex was starting to warm, wetting my panties.

  I never thought watching someone else explore another would have that type of effect on my body, but it did.

  What is wrong with me?

  I should be angry, I should be disgusted.

  My brain was trying to remind my body that this wasn't what it should be feeling. That I was here against my will and pleasure wasn't allowed; only it wasn't working.

  The longer I watched, the more I surrendered to the swell in my lower belly. Every touch he gave her, every moan she exhaled, the hotter I felt. My body tingled, forcing a chill around my thighs, coalescing to a throb in my sex.

  Unclasping the woman, he flipped her to her stomach and trapped her arms again. Pulling a paddle out from behind the wood, he whispered something into her ear and stepped back.

  What's he doing?

  I watched her closely, looking for a reaction, anticipating shock and uncertainty to stain her face. But it never came, she smiled with large red lips, nodding to him in agreement and pushing her hips out.

  Releasing his cock, he gripped the paddle in both hands, holding it out to his side. My eyes grew wide, chest pitter-pattering with anticipation.

  He was going to hi
t her, he was going to spank her and smack her with his wooden hand.

  I sat frozen, locked in a state of shock, desire, need. . . I was excited, I was getting turned on. I was ready to see more.

  Machi spoke low, whispering into my ear so only I could hear him. “See her, Imperial, really try to see her.” I attempted to look back, but he stopped me, returning my face to the couple. “Just watch, and don't think about it, just take it in. It doesn't have to be pain, nothing has to be, not if you welcome it in.”

  The man threw his arms forward and a loud smack rang out across the room. The woman yelled, but not a scream that was filled with hurt. She was smiling, she was grinning with each hit he gave her.

  I lost count of how many times he struck her with the board, but on the last one, he threw the paddle to the floor. I could hear him grunt as his body jerked forward, gripping his cock again.

  Stepping behind her, he spread her ass, slamming himself deep inside. The woman moaned as her head rolled back, laying against his chest. Digging her nails into the wood, she arched her back hard, bucking her hips.

  I felt my pussy as it dripped and my hips start to rock back and forth just watching him fuck her. Every ounce of rational thinking had vanished, leaving me weak and intoxicated. It felt like I was high, riding this wave of ecstasy I didn't understand and couldn't climb off of.

  I enjoyed the show.

  Machi's hands worked over my thighs, stopping just before he crested my mound. I didn't stop him, he had halted on his own. My body fell still, waiting to see what he would do, aching for him to keep going.

  Don't stop. I'm giving you permission, I want this, I need this.

  He had read my mind before, could he read it now?

  Sliding down to the heat between my legs, he cupped my sex. And I opened up, inviting him in.

  Rolling my hips, I ground down into his palm, giving into the moment, giving into the sheer weight of arousal that had taken hold. Even if I wanted to say no, I don't think my body would have allowed it.

  Every inch of my skin was tingling, it was charged like a live wire, crackling with feral need. Enticed, exposed, intoxicated; I was everything all balled up in an unraveling knot, begging to have that last string pulled free.