Pennies

He brought my hand to his nose, inhaling my knuckles. “You can sit however you like, but whatever you do, I’ll do. And whatever I do, you do.” His thumb pressed hard into the delicate flesh between the bird-brittle bones of my wrist. “Deal?”

No deal.

His fingers pinched harder.

He held me in such a non-sexual place but my skin burned beneath his touch. I stopped breathing as more electricity sprang hot and so difficult to ignore.

“Do you want me to keep squeezing?” His eyes hooded as my fingertips turned white with blood loss. “Because I will if you don’t agree.”

If I were half as obedient as I thought I was, I would nod and let him manipulate me into whatever he chose. But something about the way he held me made me think of things I’d never been given.

I’d never enjoyed sex or kisses or caresses.

I doubted—after the life I’d lived—I would ever find enjoyment in such activities. I knew that to the depths of my soul. But the way this foreign man held me made desperation and hunger for things I didn’t understand toil inside. Things not related to sex and domination but equality and friendship.

God, I wanted a friend.

No One had kept me company, but my scribbles weren’t enough.

Nothing was enough anymore.

He chuckled under his breath, his thumb pressing on the mismatch of bones where arteries and veins flowed. His pressure increased as he inched one, two, three centimetres up my arm, making me shiver.

“You’re going to tell me what I want to know.”

My body jerked as his fingers coiled around my elbow, sending another flood of goosebumps.

“You’re going to speak to me.”

Speak?

My hazy eyes tracked to the ceiling, searching for where Master A would be spying. Did his cameras have listening capabilities, too? Did he see me lying beside Mr. Prest and believe I spoke in a way I’d never spoken to him?

My heart opened a trapdoor and dove into an abyss.

If he believed I conversed with a man he despised, he wouldn’t just kill me. He’d tear me into excruciating tiny pieces.

Listening devices or not, I couldn’t afford to let any image hint that I answered questions.

I shot upright, not caring my broken hand burrowed into the mattress. Not caring that my forehead cracked against Mr. Prest’s, granting agony and black popping stars. All I cared about was getting away from whatever he wanted because the thought of talking wasn’t awful in that fleeting tempting second.

But nice.

Groaning, he reared back, holding his forehead the same way I held mine. “Goddammit.”

Ouch!

I rode the wave of pain, slowly blocking it out.

However, Mr. Prest beat me. Rubbing his skin, he shook his head. “I knew you’d be hazardous to my health, but I didn’t think you’d try to knock me unconscious.”

I blinked, eradicating the final shower of stars.

Serves you right.

“I didn’t deserve that.” His black eyes narrowed. “I didn’t hurt you.”

Yes, you did.

Taking a deep breath, he repositioned himself into our original position of knees. His slacks tightened around powerful thighs, straining against the seams. The bulge between his legs seemed larger than Master A, which sent a horrifying cloud through me.

Shedding whatever had just happened, he crooked his finger. “Get up. Seeing as you prefer sitting this way, do what I do.”

What was he trying to achieve? How could I pre-empt his next mind game when he didn’t know himself what he’d make me do?

I felt like a puppy following its leader as I copied his deep breath, sat on my knees, and recentred myself as much as possible. However, I couldn’t stop the jittery feeling he’d conjured inside. I wanted nothing to do with the throbbing interest that was as alien to me as regular meals and going outside.

“Remember, Pim. New rules. What you do, I do. And what I do, you do.” With elegant fingers, he spread the expensive material of his blazer to the sides, revealing the black t-shirt clad torso beneath. Slowly, he shrugged out of it, tossing it off the bed as if it held no value, all while watching me as if I was a priceless seductress.

What does he see in me to justify putting his life on the line?

I ought to wrench my eyes away. To stop looking. But he wanted me to look.

I can’t deny I want to look.

It didn’t matter that I found him an oddity and confusing. It didn’t matter that he cornered my mind by forcing me to stay present. Master A just took. He gave me the grace to turn off my thoughts and abandon my body to do whatever he wanted.

Mr. Prest did not.

Along with rebellion, he brought life and awareness and even though that awareness made me focus on my smarting forehead from his hard skull and the unwanted tingle in my belly, I couldn’t switch off because the night was both long and short.

Soon, it would be over.

Thank God, it will be over.

He’ll leave.

He’d…leave.

My shoulders slumped a little before I remembered I wanted him to leave. I hated him because of the consequences he lumped me with when he’d walked out the door.

Master A would most likely kill me—that was all I had to look forward to. A clean death rather than endless punishment.

Unless my plan works and Mr. Prest steals me.

What did Mr. Prest have to look forward to? An empire he ruled, a kingdom I could only imagine, in a palace I could only dream.

Tearing my eyes away, I did my best to silence unwanted thoughts and fall back into my lifeless position.