“You’re a sensitive creature. A delicate flower. Utter perfection.” He takes a strand of my hair and twirls it around his finger.
“I don’t want to watch this.”
“No, my darling, you need to stay. Watch the men. See how they fight, knowing only one of them will win. Only one will claim the right to have the girl.”
If he’s still standing after this. The brutality of the fight is beyond comprehension.
The girl sags in her bonds, her calves too fatigued to bear her weight. The pain etched on her forehead makes my heart bleed as her arms take the weight.
“Why does one of them have to die?” Not that I care about the men’s lives, but I’m against senseless violence. Benefield, however, thrives on it.
“It increases the stakes. Makes them work for it. Failure is final. Don’t you agree that proper motivation drives a person to perform at their best?”
His words never come without a test. Benefield is an intelligent man.
“Is that why you asked me here?”
He leans back, and I swear he’s impressed.
And there it is.
The reality of my situation slams into me with all the subtlety of a freight train. He hasn’t kept me here for the ransom money. Money means very little to a man like him; a man who has anything money can buy.
Benefield wants me.
But he doesn’t want me as a slave.
Holy mother of… What a wake-up call. But I can use this. He wants my surrender.
As that knowledge surges through me, I make a vow to kill Tomas Benefield. Whatever it takes, I will watch him take his last breath.
I blow out a breath and put pressure on my palm. I use it to press myself away from his chest and wriggle to get out of the foulness that is his lap.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He grabs my wrist, tightening his grip painfully. He yanks me against him then grabs my throat. His fingers dig into the soft tissues of my neck and close off my airway.
At this point, any sane person would struggle. I do not. I hold his gaze fearlessly and wait. My life is literally in his hands, and I’m telling him I don’t fucking care.
When he doesn’t get what he wants—my fear—he pushes me off his lap. I crumple to the floor, where I sit at his feet with the fabric of my dress in disarray.
With our gazes locked in a deadly battle of wills, I slowly, determinedly, gather my skirts and spread them around me as I methodically kneel at his feet.
“You think you want me kneeling at your feet. Calling you sir.” I bend forward slowly, listening to the slow drag of his breath. “You want me afraid to take the next breath. Fearful of you, knowing my life is in your hands.” I make a show of kissing the toes of his shoes, then lean back on my heels. “You want me to fear the power you wield and tremble beneath you.”
He doesn’t move a muscle. His entire body vibrates with rage, but he doesn’t react. I doubt anybody has spoken to him with as much disrespect as I show him now.
Fury heats his blood as he watches me. But something’s shifting in the air. His enraged demeanor shifts to that of a man captivated by lust. He wants me more than he wants to kill me.
“I offer an alternative.”
“You have nothing to offer me.” His low, warning growl turns my blood to ice, but I don’t stop.
I rise gracefully, using everything I learned during my etiquette classes to make a statement.
In the back of my head, I scream as I lose my mind. A part of me says what I do is madness. It goes against every survival instinct I have. Yet, I silence those thoughts. They serve no purpose here. If I want any hope of surviving this madness, I must do the unthinkable. I’m not making a deal with the devil. I’m joining him.
Once I’m on my feet, I lean forward and grasp his hand. He doesn’t resist. I’m stunned I still exist among the living, but he watches me. He watches me closer than any man ever has.
Slowly, I reposition myself in his lap. I take his hand and lift it over my head, placing his arm behind me with his hand on my shoulder. I kick off my bloody heels and draw my legs to my chest, placing my feet on his leg. My toes curl, digging into the muscles of his thigh. It’s an intimate touch and he reacts.
I snuggle into the pocket formed between his arm and his chest and let my body relax. I wait for a count of ten, then I place my hand on his chest and allow my fingers to curl in the fabric of his shirt.
“What if this is what you had instead?”
“Do you desire death?” He grits his teeth and his words rumble with ominous intent.
“I desire life.” I make a point of glancing out at the men fighting for their lives. “It’s up to you to choose how that looks. Will you break me, like all the others? Or, will you allow me to come to you of my own free will?”
“You will never come to me willingly.”
“What if I did? I have nothing to lose. If I don’t please you, you’ll sell me, or kill me.” I shift subtly in his lap, but there’s nothing subtle about what I’m doing. “If you can only have me after breaking me, nothing separates you from your guests. You’re as brutal as they are and lack the power to truly make me yours.”
“Is that what you think? That I lack power?” The agitation in his body accelerates.
I walk a very thin line, but I’ve already seen my future. I’d rather live in a hell I create than one created for me.
“You don’t lack the power to make me do exactly as you please, just as you don’t lack the power to make those men fight each other to the death for the fleeting act of deflowering that poor virgin. But that only serves to show your men, and your guests, that you control others through the threat of violence and death. What would happen if your guests see one of your captives willingly stand by your side? What does that message send?” I lean close and whisper in his ear. “You’ll beat me because you want to. You’ll hurt me because it’s in your nature, but I’ll stay because it’s what I choose. How much power does that grant you?”
“You think to seduce me with your silver tongue? Many women have tried that before, thinking to control me from my bed. Do you know what I did to them?”
“I have no interest in being bedded by you. I’m not offering you sex. Sex means nothing to you. Sell me, kill me, control me as you will, but true power comes when I choose you.”
To my utter horror, that’s the one comment that makes his body react.
I’m going to endure hell before this is over, but one way or another, I will make Benefield pay.
That begins and ends with surrender.
I will most likely have to endure his sweaty body huffing and puffing over mine, but my father taught me how to bury my emotions.
No matter what, I will survive.
No matter what, I will kill this horrible man.
“Now, I don’t care to watch this.” I lift his hand, cupping my shoulder, and kiss his knuckles as I crawl out of his lap. I glance at my bloodied heels. “My shoes are ruined.”
While he stares at me, I kick my bloodied heels to the side and stand with my back to the men locked in mortal combat. Their grunts sound behind me, laced with pain and fear.
“Yes or no? May I go?”
I don’t mean for that to rhyme, but it does, and it sounds silly. The absurdness of this entire situation finally hits me, and I can’t help but laugh. I cover my mouth as a nervous giggle escapes me.