Ravage

Valentin’s blazing eyes landed on her, and he hissed, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

Unaffected, the woman passed where he stood. She was heading in my direction. My blood cooled on seeing the severe expression on her face. Landing at my side, she pushed my hair from my forehead. She had blocked Valentin from my view, but I could hear the clashing of metal. I knew he was trying to get free.

I remained still, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of seeing my fear. As if knowing that was what I was doing, she smiled at me, before assuming a stern expression.

The woman looked at Valentin and began tracing the length of my body with her finger, over the sweatshirt that Valentin had made me wear.

I clasped my legs together, my muscles aching as I pulled at the ankle cuffs. The woman stopped. Retracing her path, she paused when her finger reached the top of the zip.

“No!” I heard Valentin snarl.

But the woman pulled the zipper, the large sweatshirt opening up, revealing my bare breasts and my bare body below. She pulled it down until the zip parted. The woman pushed the material aside, my skin goose-bumping as the cool air in the room hit my skin.

I turned my head from her when her finger touched my stomach and ran up until it reached my breast. Her long fingernails scraped over my nipples. I cried out in protest, my wrists becoming red as I tried to free my arms to push her away.

“Get the fuck off her!” I heard Valentin thunder out. The woman pulled back and looked to Valentin. “I can see why she caught your attention, 194. She is beautiful.”

“Get off her,” Valentin demanded, but this time the deep guttural threat evoked fear in me.

The woman didn’t even flinch. The thrashing sounds of Valentin trying to get free increased, and my legs shook as I fought to keep my thighs together.

Then Valentin stopped moving altogether when the woman stood back and stared at my thighs. “Well, 194, it seems that you’ve already fucked her today.”

“I’ll kill you,” Valentin promised again; because it was a promise, his words were thick with darkness and danger.

The woman shook her head and smiled. “You will not, 194. Because you will do anything you can to protect your little 152, and now your little Kostava whore.”

The woman’s finger stroked along the outside of my leg, and she said, “She’ll make the perfect mona.” I closed my eyes at her words. Her words saying I would be a good slave. A sexual slave. Just like Inessa.

The woman moved away, and when she did I saw Valentin. His eyes were on me. When I captured his gaze, I mouthed, I am okay. I am strong.

But Valentin wasn’t. His body was flushed and bleeding from where he had fought the chains. But what had my heart breaking were the tears cascading down his pale, scarred face, a striking visual contrast—emotion on his violent visage. His blue eyes were brimming with pain as he stared at me.

The woman stood right before him, and she lifted her hand to his chest, gathering the tears that were running down his skin. “194, I believe you may even love the Kostava whore. It has been many years since I have seen you cry.”

Valentin never looked away from the woman, and I could see the reply to her comment in his eyes. My heart flooded with warmth when I saw the response loud and clear.

He loved me.

Opening my mouth, I made sure he was watching, and I mouthed back, Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu.

I love you, too.

I mouthed it in Russian so there would be no miscommunication.

Valentin’s eyes closed at my words and I saw his body sag in defeat.

Suddenly a Wraith moved toward Valentin and the woman. He held something in his hand, and I shouted, “No!” when I saw it was a metal collar. A metal collar just like the one Valentin had ripped painfully from his neck.

The woman stayed silent as she lifted the collar to Valentin’s neck. Valentin stayed silent as she lined up the needles with his healing wounds and pushed the sharp needles into his red, scarred skin. But Valentin’s eyes stayed on mine. And my eyes stayed on his. There was strength when we endured this together.

The woman fastened the collar, and she moved her mouth to Valentin’s ear, whispering loudly enough for me to hear, “You obey me, and only me, 194. You do anything I say. I own you.”

Then I watched in horror as she pressed a button on the back of his collar. Valentin’s eyes squeezed shut and his face turned bright red. The collar tightened against his neck, the veins and corded muscles protruding as the serum injected into his veins.

His teeth gritted together as his lips paled. Just as I thought he might collapse from the obvious pain, he thundered, “My name is Valentin Belrov. I have a sister called Inessa Belrova. I have a love called Zoya Kostava. They are being held captive. I have to set them free!”

My heart split in two as he choked out his new mantra, then his head fell forward. I waited with bated breath for him to move. Minutes and minutes passed by, until I saw a flicker of movement. His finger moved from underneath his chains. His body gradually began to wake, the blood running down his chest from the collar beginning to slow down.

My heart beat furiously in my chest when, as he lifted his head, I focused on his closed eyes. I heard my heavy anxious breathing echo in my ears; then it paused completely when Valentin’s eyes snapped open.

My stomach dropped when two dark dilated eyes stared straight ahead. He was alive but not living.

The woman moved in front of him and asked, “What is your name?”

Without any bodily reaction, Valentin responded, “194.”

I saw a victorious smile light up her face; then she asked, “Who do you obey?”

With the same vacant expression, Valentin replied, “Mistress.”

The last of my hope drained out of my body. The Mistress snapped at her men to get Valentin down. Valentin stayed absolutely still, his empty gaze fixed straight ahead.

The heavy chains fell away, yet Valentin didn’t move. The woman stepped back until she was beside my bed, and she ordered, “194, come to me!”

Valentin walked forward, his body obeying the woman’s command. When he halted before her and she looked down at me still strapped on the bed, my body washed with dread. “194,” she said with a smile on her face, “capture Zaal Kostava. Return him to me within the day—dead or alive.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Valentin stated without question.

As I heard the sound of Valentin leaving to capture my brother, I was sure I would never be whole again.