Priceless (Ruthless Doms 1) - Page 28

I’m brought to a large room that looks like a warehouse. I tremble so badly my knees knock into each other. For as long as I can remember, we had a very particular routine, and even though the routine was brutal, there’s comfort in familiarity. Wake up. Groomed. Cleaned. Breakfast. Exercise. Training. Rest. Training. And on it went. I know there was some sort of drugs they imparted to us. I have the vaguest recollection of being stuck with needles, and we were on occasion physically forced to take pills they gave us. I hate that what they’ve done affects my memory. I keep doing my best to remember, but even the most basic facts I hold onto sometimes slip away.

Every moment of every day was structured and routinized, and I’d learned by now not to upset the apple cart. Often enough, one of our own would fall out of line and suffer public punishment as a result. It was enough to keep the rest of us obedient… for the most part.

I gasp when they bring me to a flight of stairs that seems like it leads… outside?

I look in panic from one to the next, but as soon as I look up, one strikes me across the face.

“Eyes down,” he barks.

I gasp in pain, immediately realizing my error. I looked at him.

“You bastard,” the second guard hisses, yanking me to him. “If you mark her, he’ll kill you.”

He grasps my face and holds it between his hands, scowling. Drawing a thumb along my lip, he shakes his head. “Fortunately you hit like a girl,” he says to his partner with a sneer. “Maybe you won’t leave a mark.” I shudder. Just when I think I’ve gotten used to being treated like an animal, one of them reminds me of something I once knew. Something I once believed. But then the memory is gone with the next breath I take.

I march outside beside them. It’s blue and darkish out here, and I try to remember the word for this time of day. D. D. It starts with a “d…”

“Dusk?” I whisper, hope blossoming in my chest when I remember something of my past, as if being outside in the fresh air reinvigorated my memory.

“Quiet,” the guard snaps, but he doesn’t strike me again. I close my mouth and bow my head on instinct.

They march me into a large van with rows and rows of seats. Others were brought here before me. The seat up front is the last one to be occupied. In silence, they buckle me in.

I don’t raise my head. I don’t look at anyone around me at all.

We drive for only a few minutes. Even if I were allowed to look out the window, I wouldn’t recognize anything. I haven’t been in a car so long, it feels odd to be bouncing along the streets like this on our way to our destination. Somewhere long ago, I remember I owned a car. I think. Perhaps more than one? Did I drive it, or was I driven like I am now?

Who was I?

Nicolai’s.

The realization comes to me so quickly, so strongly, that tears spring unbidden to my eyes, and a weird lump rises in my throat. But these tears aren’t the ones I’m used to shedding. They’re not from helpless pain or brutal treatment. They’re not remorseful. They’re somehow more poignant. More vivid.

I’m Nicolai’s.

Nicolai.

I close my eyes and remember him. The memory of Nicolai is the one thing they can’t take from me.

My fierce, stern Russian bodyguard.

The man who tried to lay down his life for me.

The man I loved.

The man I love still.

But who was I?

What was my name? I can remember his, but only because they didn’t know I held onto this, this one memory of my past. I wish I could piece it together, but when I try, the thoughts muddle together like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle tossed in a box.

The van comes to a stop and a guard opens the door. None of us move until the harsh commands makes us jump.

“One row at a time,” he barks out. “Let’s go.”

I realize with a start I’m in the front row, so that means I move. I get awkwardly to my feet, and stumble toward the exit.

“Come, you foolish girl,” the man who struck me orders. He yanks me angrily out of the van and places me on my feet. I’m at the head of the line, being dragged onto a sort of platform. I realize with surprise that it’s a walkway aboard a ship. A huge, luxurious ship the likes I’ve which I’ve never seen.

Or have I?

I breathe in deeply. Though it’s nearly nighttime, the sea breeze fills my lungs and lifts my spirits. It’s the most cleansing breath I’ve taken since my captivity, and something in me springs to life with vivid awareness, like a watered flower reaching heavenward for rain. There’s hope in the air tonight.

Tags: Jane Henry Ruthless Doms Erotic
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