AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Jeez, tell us what you really think.” A dark-skinned Master sniffed.
“I am.” Victor smiled tightly. “Some of you committed treason against me when you murdered my precious gems. I tried to do something nice for you. I trusted you to respect me.” He crossed his arms. “You didn’t. You proved you’re selfish and childish, and if this is the only way I can get through to you, then so be it.” His lips pulled back. “You are all to vacate my home immediately and think upon the mess you have caused. My Joyero is mine, not yours. You are here by my grace and invitation, and your invitation has been revoked.”
“What?” Every Master shot to his feet. “But—”
“Ah, ah, I’m not finished.” Victor held up his hand. “You will be allowed to return in one month’s time. This will enable my current jewels to heal and grow strong for your pleasure and for me to find some new gems to sparkle brightly upon your arrival. You will be flown home and will receive your new invitation on the encrypted message board like usual.” He smiled and ran a hand over his perfect hair. “However, a few of you will not be allowed to return. I’ll make those announcements privately. As for those who do get another invite, I suggest you use this time to reflect upon your actions because this is your one and only chance. We are predators, gentlemen, not unintelligent beasts. We have urges, yes. We are at the top of the food chain, of course. But there still must be order. There still must be rules. And unless you are willing to abide by those rules, you are no longer welcome.”
“What about him?” Ian, the Master who’d almost raped Ily on Victor’s command, pointed in my direction.
Yes, what about me?
All my scheming to stay so I didn’t die might be moot if Victor flew me back to Paris.
I guessed I’d survive an hour. Maybe two before Q came for me…
“Henri Mercer is my permanent guest. He’s tested me and frustrated me, but…he has stayed true to my laws and is exempt from leaving.”
Was it my imagination, or did Ily suck in a relieved breath?
I wanted to run my fingertips over her honeyed skin. To tip up her chin. To kiss—
“That’s fucking bullshit,” Roland snarled. “He’s a snitch, Vic. We all know it!”
“Yes, he is.” Victor nodded. “But he’s my snitch. He snitched on his brother, and I expect him to keep providing me with information about his family as and when I require it. But for now, he stays, you go, and that’s all I have to say on the matter.”
Clapping his hands, he smirked. “Now, enjoy your last breakfast in paradise, gentlemen. For those who live in Europe, you may join me on the first flight out of here. For those who live farther abroad, you will have to wait until my captain returns.” He bowed with a twist of his lips. “Farewell, my friends. I hope next time we play together, you will remember this moment and behave. Otherwise, I might suddenly find myself with a few more jewels by collaring you instead.”
He swept out of the room like a royal.
The Masters broke out into heated words.
And I tapped my little nightmare on the shoulder and got her out of there.
* * * * *
THE CURSE OF BLOOD & DARKNESS
by
Henri Mercer
I can’t decide if this will be fiction or non-fiction.
If I pen this as fiction, then I can get away with embellishing all my best parts and downplaying all my worst. I can pretend that the monster who loves blood and tears isn’t some sick freak who craves things he should never crave, but a messed-up man who feels closest to his woman when her essence is on his tongue.
If I keep it as fiction, I can weave a story about how that first splash of bitter, bloody wine bursts like a red, red orange in my mouth. How the zesty spritz fills my every synapse with more than just her lifeforce but her very fucking spirit.
I can bravely write down how hard her blood makes this particular character. How bestial he becomes from a single forbidden sip. He doesn’t have to mention the dark depression that’s taken residence in his soul. Doesn’t have to look into that abyss that’s replaced his heart.
As long as this tale is fictional…this man can go on living instead of listening to those ever-increasing whispers to end it before he goes too far.
But…
I can’t write this as fiction because it’s real.
I’m real.
I’m the beast.
