Page 56 of Vicious

I fight against him in deadly earnest because I know this is not going to end well for me—but it’s useless. Chase is too strong, and despite the adrenaline running through my veins, I’m just not a match for him.

“Take her and make sure she doesn’t try to go anywhere or do anything stupid,” Chase says to Drake.

“My pleasure,” Drake coos. “Come here, little kitten. We’re just going to play with you.”

Chase shoves me against Drake’s chest, and Drake takes hold of both of my wrists, squeezing until I can feel the bones pressing together. I yelp, not enjoying this pain at all—not enjoying the fact that it’s coming from Drake.

All arousal I’d been feeling because of Chase is gone, replaced by terror and utter despair.

Chase storms off in the direction of the basement.

While he’s gone, Drake holds my wrists together with one strong hand, and he slides the other down my back, to the base of the tail. He tugs on it, and even though the straps hold it in place, it’s still uncomfortable. “I wonder if Chase will let me have you now,” he says, leaning in to smell my hair in what would be repulsive if it wasn’t so fucking terrifying.

Hunter is still embracing Stef, petting her hair and murmuring something into her ear. Her sobs calm down, at least, although I can’t see her expression from here.

I can’t help but think that she’s overreacting just a little—or a lot—but I don’t know her enough to be able to tell. She’d said she’d been the crybaby at Ntimacy, and, well… She’s certainly acting like one.

Drake is groping my ass when Chase returns, and I squirm, trying to get a look at what he’s carrying.

It’s like something out of a horror movie. The whip has multiple tails, each with several knots near the end. It’s the kind of implement they would have used to torture prisoners and convicts in medieval ages.

That wasn’t hanging on the wall downstairs. I would have noticed something like that.

I swallow thickly, fighting back against Drake with renewed energy. I shake my head furiously. “No! No, Chase, please, I’m sorry. Stef, I didn’t mean it. Please, please tell your… your master it was a mistake. Please!”

Drake holds me without missing a beat, ignoring the way I try to scratch at him with my nails and kick out at him. “Like they say in all the bad movies, you’re not sorry yet… but you’re gonna be.” He laughs even though it’s not even remotely funny.

Chase shakes his head. “It’s easy to be sorry after the fact. Drake, help me tie her to the stair railing.”

“M-Master…” Stef says unsteadily. “Maybe…”

Hope starts to well up within me. If she tells Hunter not to let them do this, maybe…

But no.

“Stef and I are leaving,” Hunter declares, interrupting whatever she was going to say. “I trust you’ll deal with her appropriately.”

Trembling and fighting uselessly against Drake while he shoves me toward the railing, I shake my head in desperation. “Please, I didn’t mean to!”

Drake slaps his hand over my mouth with a little more force than necessary. “Yeah, man, we’ll take care of it. Sorry your, uh… Sorry your girl got upset.” He even sounds sincere.

Prick.

“May is going to regret this severely,” Chase promises Hunter. He cracks the whip experimentally, and the sound makes me jump involuntarily.

“I already do, I promise,” I whimper against Drake’s hand. The words are muffled but half-hysterical.

Hunter glares at me again, before he begins guiding Stef toward the front door. She looks at me with pity in her eyes, and I think she mouths I’m sorry to me.

Drake shoves me against the railing, and I stumble. “Chase, please,” I beg once I’m sure Hunter and Stef are gone. “I’m so sorry.”

“You ruined what would have been a fun evening for everyone,” Chase says, shaking his head. “I fucking told you, didn’t I? But I guess I’ve been too nice with you. You figured I’d tolerate everything.”

Because he had. He’d been amused by everything, even my attempts to fight him when he’d fucked me. If I’d known just how serious this was, I wouldn’t have let my mouth get the best of me, but I’d been stupid.

“No, I?—”

Drake pushes me against the side of the stairs, sliding his hand down my back. “Shut up,” he says.