The Games We Play

35. Thirty-Four - Tess

Thirty-Four - Tess

Repulsion rolls through me as I straddle Douglas’ lap, and his hands move my hips backward and forward across his crotch.

“How many have you fucked with this cunt? Most of the men here keep their girls pure. It makes them more valuable ,” he purrs in my ear, and I shudder. “Did Darius keep you locked up, too?”

“No,” I growl, hating my father more and more with each passing second. “I’ve been thoroughly fucked, and it takes a lot to impress me.”

His fingers dig into my hips, and he thrusts up against my center. “You’re experienced. Good. That means I don’t have to teach you how to take my cock like a fucking slut.”

I grab his wrists and jerk his hands off me. “Not for you. Never.”

Douglas grabs my leash and jerks my neck to the side, and I cry out at the pain and grapple at the collar. “Hm, he didn’t teach you manners, it seems. You’re so…feral.”

His finger runs along my lips, and I try to bite it.

He laughs and lifts me from his lap, keeping a firm grip on the leash. His other hand tangles in my hair, and he fists it to hold me in place. “Oh yes, you are a prize indeed. I’ll love it when I get to break you.”

“In your fucking dreams,” I seethe. His grin only widens, and he releases me. He glances over my shoulder, his smile softening, and he becomes a sense of regalness and belonging again, unlike the hungry beast that was just underneath me.

“Darius,” he greets and hands my leash back to my father. “You’ll be seeing me again,” he says toward me before walking away.

I’m shuffled through different men, all masked beyond recognition, and their hands don’t leave an inch of my body to the imagination. I’m paraded around like a piece of livestock. My feet hurt with each step, and I don’t think I can dance anymore.

Another masked man, another anonymous monster, takes my leash, and I’m dragged back to the dance floor. I don’t hear what they say. It can’t be anything I haven’t heard yet tonight.

Someone else takes my hand and places it on his shoulder while taking my other one in a waltz fashion. I glance up, and my leash dangles between us. He is the first one that hasn’t kept a hold of it.

His mask conceals every part of his face except his lips and his light brown hair that’s styled back.

“You look stunning,” he says. There is something familiar about his voice, but I can’t place it.

I don’t respond. I lost the fire five men ago when it turns out the comebacks only fuel their lust. Maybe staying quiet and acting meek is my ticket out of here.

“What happened here?” he asks, dropping his hunter-green eyes to the scar on my chest .

I remain silent, focusing on his shoulder and the sea of strangers.

He sighs and steps closer so our bodies are nearly flush. The scruff of his chin grazes across my exposed shoulder as we dance.

“Given up already?” he asks, but his voice is different. His accent, I know it. My body immediately responds, and I suck in a breath. “Don’t react, Puppet. Keep dancing with me, okay? I promise I’m going to get you out of here.”

I nearly cry in relief at being in X’s arms again. Relaxing in his hold, I let myself lean against his cheek. I check our surroundings. Is Dad watching? Does he know X is here? “He’s after you,” I whisper, barely moving my lips. “He knew you’d come. You can’t be here. You have to leave.”

His hand tightens around mine. “I need you to listen. Any second, your father is going to come take you away from me—”

“No—” I panic.

“Shh. The only person you’re leaving here with is me. But you have to trust me.” His breath ghosts my neck, and chill bumps dance along my skin. “Your father is going to come, and I’m going to give you back to him. The bidders will take their seats. I’ll be right up front. When your time comes, you’ll walk up the stage and keep your gaze on me. The lights will go out right before you’re sold. There are others like me placed throughout here tonight. Their goal is to get your father. I’m only after you, Puppet. I’ve got you, and I’m taking you so far away from here that they can’t hurt you.”

I want so badly to feel his lips press against my skin.

“So, you’re one of the good guys?” I ask.

“No, baby. I’m the worst kind of man. But you’re mine, and every fucker who’s touched you tonight will know it. It’ll be over soon. ”

The inch of space he puts between us feels like miles. For a second, I felt safe. I was able to leave my reality and just breathe in his smell and revel in his touch.

“She’s a fine piece, Darius,” X says, his voice back to the stranger I don’t know.

“I think she went over very well tonight. Even with the hideous scar,” Dad states.

I keep my gaze locked on X as he hands my leash back. Another body moves up next to me, and I glance over to see Scott with his bandaged ear.

“What’s your name, mate?” he asks. My eyes widen as I glance back at X. Do they know? How could they possibly?

“Xane Williams,” X says and bows his head slightly. The muscles in his neck flex, but his demeanor remains calm.

“I don’t know you,” Scott states and steps forward, staring X down with curiosity. “And I know everyone on the list.”

“Enough,” Dad warns his guard. “It’s time.” He jerks his head at the stage, and Scott gives X one last glare before escorting me and my father to the back of the stage.

“Tonight is the night, Pumpkin. Then I’ll be the most powerful man in the world,” he says as the crowd cheers after someone announces him. He walks across the stage and sits on the far side, leading me behind him.

Another man with a royal blue mask stands behind a podium in the middle of the stage with a gavel, holding his hand out and signaling the first woman to step forward.

My gaze searches the first row for that familiar mask. I scan all the different ones until I find the only person staring back at me. Warmth floods my body, knowing he’s here, so I keep my expression neutral. To Dad, it’ll look like I’m just staring out, unable to bear the sight of what is about to happen.

The lights are blinding as the first collared woman takes her place in center stage. The auctioneer introduces her as Clare, daughter of Mr. Gaza, and the bidding war starts. As I stand there, the noise fades into the background. My legs and feet go numb in the heels, and I must fight the urge to fidget.

Dad is on a throne here above the masses, and it sickens me to know this is my legacy. This is what my family is known for. Is this why Mom begged to die? Did she know the truth?

With each woman that passes, X’s gaze doesn’t waiver. I keep waiting for it to be my turn to stride across the stage, for my knight in black armor to whisk me away, but it doesn’t happen. The women here are all introduced as daughters, nieces, or granddaughters of someone. Then I realize what Lincoln meant earlier when he said Dad never brought a specimen to this event. These men bring their flesh and blood to be auctioned. Their status makes them so valuable. And I’m the daughter of their fucking ring leader.

The last woman exits the stage, and the announcer turns to let Dad take the spotlight.

“I want to thank you all—”

“Wait!” a man shouts from the audience, and I risk looking away from X long enough to find the disgruntled man standing and pointing at me.

Lincoln .

“What about her? The auction isn’t over. Would Darius bring his daughter, then back out when we show interest?”

He’s challenging Dad, and based on this tick in Dad’s jaw, it doesn’t bode well for him .

Another man stands, and my gaze flicks over to Douglas. More men stand. Different ones I performed for tonight. They nod in agreement with Douglas, and Dad looks over at me.

I can’t take the weight of his stare, and I search for X, only his chair is empty.

My head swivels up and down the row, but he isn’t there. He’s…gone.

A hand grabs my bicep, and Dad pulls me along. “Looking for someone?” he asks, and my eyes widen as I gaze up at his cool stature. The crowd cheers, and I realize he’s pulled me to the center of the stage.

Like a pit at a concert, men abandon their seats and rush to the edge.

My palms sweat, and Dad steps away, his hands clasped across his front.

“Right, well, let’s start the bid at…” the auctioneer starts, and I turn to him; he’s staring at Dad.

“Five hundred thousand,” Dad says, and the bidding war starts.

All of this is because his blood runs through my veins. And X is gone. Did Dad do something? Did he figure out what he was? I search the crowd behind the bidding monsters and Dad’s guards, lurking in the shadows with their arms crossed. They aren’t looking at their boss. They’re looking for something or someone else.

With each increase in value, my heart rate speeds up.

X told me to trust him. He talked like he had the upper hand. But what if he was wrong? What if Dad expected this and had a plan in place all along?

He’s been caught. He has to be. That’s the only reason he wasn’t exactly where he said he would be. The room spins, and I’m gasping for air. This can’t be happening .

I can’t—the gavel slams down, and I spot the bidder holding up his number.

It’s Lincoln—the man who plans to carve himself into me just like X did.

My vision tunnels, and the surrounding sounds grow muffled until I can’t hear anything but the beating of my heart.

The crowd disperses. Dad moves to my side and raises his hands, smiling as he speaks, but I can’t focus on the words.

Hot tears well in my eyes, and I squeeze them shut, begging them not to fall down my cheeks. I can’t appear weak. Weakness will get me killed.

A hand lands on my shoulder, and I stare up at the man who raised me. His expression matches how he looked at me when he taught me to ride a bike. It’s repulsive. “You’re my greatest accomplishment, daughter. You’ve done a great thing today. Because of you, our legacy will live on.”

Fuck that.

I draw my fist back and crush his temple. My quick movements catch him off guard, and he stumbles slightly. I land another direct hit before I’m grabbed from behind, my arms wretched at odd angles.

“Let go of me!” I scream, not caring who will hear me. “Fuck all of you! You’re fucking monsters!”

The lights cut out, and everything goes silent for a split second. Lips brush against my ear, and I writhe to get free. I’ll pull my shoulders out of socket if I have to. I will not be sold off like a fucking cow.

“There’s my fighter.” X’s lips brush the shell of my ear, and I still. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Fix the goddamn lights!” Dad bellows from the stage, but we hide in the cover of the shadows. Gunshots fire from somewhere in the crowd, and all hell breaks loose. X drags me through the bodies, fighting to get on the stage and out a side door. When it closes, the shouts and commotion go silent. X doesn’t stop running until he’s taken me down two more hallways and through another door into darkness. He locks it behind him and pulls me into his chest, shoving the mask off my face. His lips crash into me, and I welcome the pain from the beatings because it’s him. He found me. He didn’t leave me, and he wasn’t taken.

I bury my head in his chest and grip his shirt with both hands.

It’s over. The nightmare is over.