Page 735 of Coal Hearts

I tripped as the guard marched me into the ballroom.

I would’ve fallen flat on my face if he hadn’t grabbed my elbow and kept me standing. “This way,” he muttered.

My heart switched from skittering with weakness to galloping with fear.

Henri.

God...no.

I struggled as the guard yanked me toward the stage where Peter already stood in fresh linen trousers. His ribs cut into his now clean chest, his hands balled at his sides, his golden collar leashed to the podium.

He gave me a sad shake of his head as the guard secured my collar to a matching cord, tethering me to the other corner of the stage. All around us, Masters chuckled and sipped expensive drinks. Jewels kneeled on the dance floor and the energy of terror and indulgence wafted thicker than the scents of butter and tarragon.

But I only had eyes for Henri.

He stood in the centre of the stage, shackled to a maypole like the one where he’d taken me the first time after he bid and won Victor’s twisted auction. His cuffed wrists locked above his head, his neck held in place by a chain hooked to his collar, his bare body so lean and bruised, so stretched and on display.

Tears strangled my throat, but I refused to let them fall.

Our eyes met.

He gave me a smile as if nothing was wrong. As if he was dressed in a fine suit and sitting down with the other men instead of spread and bound for their pleasure.

Don’t watch. He narrowed his eyes. Promise me.

I’m with you. I shook my head. I’m not going anywhere.

He sighed and dropped his chin.

The huge bruise on his side glowed a burgundy red beneath the spotlights on the stage. His cock flaccid and far too vulnerable as Masters leaned back and remarked on the delicious dinner being placed in front of them by waitstaff.

Victor chuckled as I found him in the crowd. Sitting at the table closest to the stage, he raised his tumbler of liquor in my direction. “Good evening, Ilyana. I trust you had a relaxing afternoon? I must say, that lingerie certainly shows off your curves.” His nose wrinkled. “Unfortunately, those curves have shrunk since the last time you were in this ballroom but...no matter.”

Passing Rachel a plate delivered by a downcast serving girl, he smirked. “Rachel, on the other hand, is rounding out quite nicely. Don’t you agree?” He stroked her growing belly with a doting look in his blue eyes. “See how well I look after those who please me, sweetling?”

I wanted so much to spit at him. Curse him. Scream at him.

But...with Henri strapped on the pole, I wouldn’t give Victor any reason to snap. If he hurt Henri because I opened my stupid mouth...I’d never forgive myself.

Victor huffed as if annoyed at my silence.

Rachel gave me a tragic look. She opened her lips as if she wanted to say something, but I widened my eyes and shook my head.

Sighing heavily, she dropped her gaze to her food and picked reluctantly at a perfectly cooked chicken breast.

I almost keeled over with starvation. My mouth flooded with saliva. Every cell in my body demanded to be fed.

The discomfort was so crippling, I almost moaned.

Tearing my eyes away, I focused on everything but the Masters tucking into their dinners and the lucky jewels accepting tidbits off their owners’ fingers.

Classical music kept playing.

The night remained sedate and serene.

No one came to torment us. No one tortured Henri.

I glanced at Peter. What’s going on?