Page 7 of Master A-0011

“What.” He said, panting as he broke from her neck. “Do you see?”

A high squeal merged with her cries. Her lids opened and her stare jumped up to me quickly, jerking back down.

“I see a-a slave.”

Again, he dove to her neck, this time under the bleeding indentions he’d left behind the first time. His jaw flexed as he bit down even harder, jerking his head to tear her skin open. Blood was pouring from the wound and smeared over his chin. He chewed the chunk of flesh, wrinkling his nose as he spit it out on the floor not feet away.

“Help!Ahhhhhh!Help me!”

“Answer my question before I take my time tearing you apart. What do you see?”

One hand lifted and his fingers buried in her hair, tightening as he leveled her face, forcing her to look at me.

“A…s-slave…who’s scarred.”

“Is she ugly to you?”

Brown eyes came back to mine, and she quickly tried shaking her head.

“Not u-ugly. N-No. Not ugly at all. Pretty but scarred.”

“I think you’re lying.”

“N-No! I swear. I swear. She’s pretty.”

“Do you think she chose to look this way?”

The woman’s mouth opened, only to close as she genuinely took me in through her slightly swollen eyes. Whatever she saw had her breaking down and crying even harder.

“N-No.”

“No,” he repeated. “How long have you been here?”

She sniffled but the sob cut her off. “I’m not sure, Master. A f-few months?”

“And you learned nothing. You saw the gorgeous, famous Ethan O’Brien, and your true self returned as if you’d never been taken. As if you weren’t a slave sold to a killer. Ego replaced rationality, and all you saw was an illusion. Do you see now?”

He hugged to her with one arm even tighter, closing his eyes as he dropped his head and rubbed his face against the openedwound that was close to her collarbone. The slave’s body shook through her terrified cry. An elongated groan mixed with a whimper, and she kept trying to wiggle and pull from his hold.

“I’m sorry.”

“You will be.”

Ethan opened his eyes, looking back at me. Blood was covering half of his face, and still he went back nuzzling the wound and licking his lips, but his gaze never left me. “What is your name?”

“Three-sixty-nine, Master.”

He paused, his stare narrowing.

“Your real name.”

“If I could ask. If I….”

My words tumbled all over themselves as I trembled harder. My ears were ringing from the screams. Almost as if the slave’s had awoken my own. My name…No. I didn’t want to say it.

“What?”

“Can you just call me slave?”