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“I never came here intending to fuck a prisoner.”
“Yet you stayed, and that’s exactly what you’re doing.”
Rage crawled up my throat.
Ben cut through my temper. “Look, all we’re saying is…yes, we came here with unhonourable intentions. But we’ve seen too much. Witnessed too many atrocities. We came here for companionship and sex, but what we get is fear and abuse. Plus, we know what happens to jewels when they reach their use-by-date, and Pen and Abby—”
“We’re not getting any younger,” Penelope whispered over her Master’s flaccid cock. “I’ve never seen a jewel over the age of twenty-nine. I…next year I turn thirty and Abby the year after.”
Abigail kept rocking. “We’ve been helping with the Christmas presents. We…we told—”
“You what?” Ily hissed, swooping upright on her knees. “You told your Masters what we’re planning?”
Both girls slouched. “Yes, but…they’re trustworthy.”
Ily shot both men a horrified look. “Have you…are you…will you tell Victor?”
My right hand slipped into my pocket. My fingers curled around my switchblade, warm and heavy at the bottom.
It’d be easy to kill them.
Not so easy to explain away their bodies.
“You better keep talking,” I snarled. “Now.”
Ben nodded. “We only ever discuss Christmas in the shower. It wasn’t the girls’ fault. We caught them putting something under the bed of the rooms we use. Later that night, I investigated. I have a background in chemistry myself and figured it out without making a scene.” He flicked Stewart a look. “We asked our jewels for the truth, and we got it. We’ll admit we wondered if we could buy Victor’s favour by telling him. Perhaps he’d let us have Pen and Abby, after all. But we’d already offered money. What would information do that money couldn’t? And so…we figured—”
“That you’d help free them so you can trap them in your own houses?” I snapped.
“No.” Stewart stroked Pen’s cheek. “Even if we wanted to do that, we’d be caught eventually with how much we’re watched. The only way it will work is if our relationship is legitimate.”
“Legitimate?”
“Marriage,” Ben murmured.
“You…you agreed?” Ily asked, resuming her rocking but shooting the two jewels a look.
“We did.” Penelope nodded. “I was a foster kid and was taken when I was ten. I belonged to another before Victor traded me, so I have no one. And Abs…”
Abigail winced. “My brother accidentally killed my parents in a drunk-driving incident. My world ended, and I hit the road after their funeral. I was trafficked from a dirty motel where I spent the night. There’s no one waiting for me. We both have a clean slate. We could become completely different people.”
“That’s no reason to marry the men molesting you,” Ily whispered coldly.
“You can’t talk.” Abgail sniffed. “You’re in love with the man molesting you. Is it so hard to believe we are too?”
Ily wrinkled her nose. “But…”
“Out of all the Masters we’ve had, the moment Ben and Stewart started visiting, we could finally breathe. We could sleep without pain. We felt cherished and listened to and protected. We hate when they leave. We count the days until they’re back. They’ve offered us freedom as well as wealth. We want to take it.”
“No prenup,” Stewart muttered. “We’re loaded and lonely. If we can atone for participating in this place by giving everything we have to the two girls who love us regardless of how we met, then we’ll happily be penniless because we’re fucking miserable without them.”
Ily looked up my body, her fiercely intelligent gaze catching mine.
What do you think? She licked her lips.
I’d never been so thankful for the strange, eerie connection between us.
Not sure. I ran my thumb over her cheekbone.
