Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Gentle apology comes off Vance as he slides my panties down my legs. His temperament is the exact opposite of Sebastian, who storms from the room the instant the doctor begins the exam. I’m not sure what bothers me more—the violation going on between my legs, or the stomps of an irate lion growing distant down the hall.
11
Libra is supposed to be the house of justice, the balance of right and wrong, the juxtapose of harsh and merciful. For Pax Monroe, justice means vengeance, wrong is right, and mercy is launched out the window under the weight of his sadistic characteristics.
The House of Libra is deviance incarnate with accents of pain.
Black sofas square off the living area from the kitchen and eat-in bar, and the standard floor-to-ceiling windows draw the eye toward the sea—until the dark gray wall opposite steals the focus with its display of leather crops and paddles. It’s the artwork of a sadist.
The rest of the living space is clean and contemporary in feel, with white shag rugs in front of the couches and bouquets of slate roses on top of glass side tables. Pax seems out of place here, his dark attire and slicked-back hair more suitable to the dungeon.
Still reeling from the last twenty-four hours, I almost miss the figure kneeling in the corner of the great room. Pax snaps his fingers, and the brunette springs into motion, crawling to him on all fours, her gaze on the marble floor. Short dark hair reaches her chin in a sleek and severe fashion. A leather collar circles her throat—the same type Pax wanted to buckle around my neck before Liam drugged him. Other than that collar, she’s not wearing a thing.
“Welcome home, Master.”
Pax bends, tipping her chin, and I’m taken aback by a pair of exotic green eyes. “This is Frieda,” he says, turning to face me as he tightens his grip. “She’s my slave, and since the chancellor kept you from your duty here this month, you won’t get the chance to earn your place above her. When I’m not around, you will obey her.”
Upon my silence, he lifts a brow. “I’m assuming you still remember your training from the House of Taurus?”
“Yes.”
“You will call me Master.”
Only a few days left.
I can get through this, and considering the humiliation of the medical exam not even an hour ago, the fact that he hasn’t beat me or done some other unimaginable thing is a good sign.
Or maybe I’m deluding myself. Maybe my head’s still spinning, trying to catch up to the lightning-speed change of living in paradise with Liam to becoming this man’s slave for the next few days.
He snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Address me, my queen, before I show you what a real punishment is.”
“I’m sorry, Master,” I say, giving him the response he wants.
He turns his attention back to Frieda. “Get up.” Still gripping her chin, he doesn’t let go until she rises. “I have a training session in the dungeon today, so I’m putting the queen in your hands until I get back. Have her readied in two hours.”
“Of course, Master.”
“Do a good job, and I’ll reward you.” He turns on his heel and exits, the front door slamming in his wake.
That’s when his slave trains those startling eyes on me. “You’re a fucking disaster,” she says, her lip curling in contempt.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Her soundless footsteps take her in a circle around me. “Your hair’s a tangled mess, your skin’s washed out, and that dress belongs in the damn trash.”
“Does your master know you have the mouth of a sailor?”
She laughs. “Of course he does. He punishes me for it all the time.”
I can’t relate to the excitement in her voice—as if she likes it when he punishes her.
“Take off your clothes,” she orders.
My first instinct is to argue with her, but I bite back my indignation and strip. The two of us stand naked in the monster’s living room—his slave and slave-in-training.
Only a few more days.
Those five words will be my mantra until I set foot in the library.
Freida nods toward the floor. “That’s where you belong until you’ve earned your place.”
“Am I supposed to call you Master as well?” My sarcasm comes swift, and so does the harsh strike to my face.
“You’ll address me as Mistress. Now get on your knees.”
Stunned speechless, I hold my smarting cheek and dip to the floor.
Frieda stares down at me for several seconds, lips pursed, expression alive with malice. “Your title means nothing here. In this house, you’re the dirt under this slave’s foot.” Pivoting on her bare feet, she walks away, a cocky sway to her hips. “This way.”
I crawl after her, somehow knowing it’s what she expects, and the next couple of hours are filled with waxing, bathing, hair-washing, and makeup. Everything but clothing, because in the House of Libra, nakedness is the standard uniform for the monster’s slaves.