Page 510 of Coal Hearts

That hug.

That damn fucking hug.

My first.

My only.

And goddammit, I hadn’t been aware how much I’d been starving.

Past starving.

Fucking emaciated for something I didn’t even know I needed.

The strength it took not to wrap her in another hug this morning when she woke in bruise-shot agony. The sheer willpower I’d had to enlist not to scoop her into my arms as she limped out of the bathroom, her chest painted in a kaleidoscope of earthy, brutal pigments. The mark of my teeth on her throat almost pushed me over the edge.

Jesus Christ.

“I have to say, I’m severely disappointed in you, gentlemen.” Victor’s pompous speech cut through my thoughts, giving me a reprieve.

A few Masters grumbled over their fruit pastries.

“You were told the winner could do whatever he wanted. The key word in that sentence, my friends, was winner. Yet I hear from lovely Dr Belford that she currently has seven jewels all in various states of disrepair thanks to some of you anointing yourself as the winner without my consent.”

Another grumble of dissent.

Victor stopped marching and glowered at all of us. “Seven jewels are out of service for the foreseeable future. Three of those seven are missing pieces. And another might not make it.”

Ily stiffened by my feet, no doubt wondering if Peter was the one who might not make it.

He’d looked pretty messed up.

I didn’t know how much a human body could endure before breaking down, but...he’d been close. Carrying him up the hill, I swore he’d stopped breathing a few times. I’d clutched him close, hiding his lack of living from the three jewels climbing exhausted behind me. I’d deliberated digging him a grave or running as fast as I could for someone to resuscitate him.

But each time I thought he’d died, he sucked in another shallow breath and survived.

Ily moaned quietly as she shifted yet again on the hard oak floor.

I hated her kneeling on bruised legs.

I despised that the clothing Victor had deemed appropriate to order for her was a scantily short sundress that barely skimmed her ass. He’d provided G-strings, not knickers, and no bras, so her full chest stretched the bodice, turning a baby pink dress into something sinful, especially with the pricks of her hard nipples.

She was cold. Same as me.

My jeans and black t-shirt didn’t fend off the draft pinching from the corners of the ballroom. The erotic statues and tapestries looked morbid and morose—the new day overcast and threatening rain as if grieving for the atrocities committed yesterday.

Flashes of stabbing Kyle.

Glimpses of strangling Charles.

A highlight reel of Ily waking at three a.m. and finding me reading. The way her golden eyes glowed like hunter moons in the dark, shimmering with lust. She’d never looked at me that way before. Never rode me, ruled me—

“I have a good mind to discipline all of you!” Victor suddenly lost control of his infamous temper. “I allowed you to play to let off some steam, and instead, you took advantage of my leniency. I’m aware each of you have your own needs, but I thought we’d cultivated a society here. A utopia where rules were welcomed. But...” He ran a hand over his mouth. “I see now I live with idiots and ingrates, and I’m done putting up with such flagrant disregard for my fucking property!”

A few Masters flinched.

Ferdinand had the bravery to ask, “Where’s Kyle and Gary? I haven’t seen them.”

“Dead,” Victor spat. “See, gentlemen? Balance. It always finds a way.”