Page 8 of Master A-0011

“No name?”

“Please, no.”

Moments passed and his head lifted from her neck as he studied my expressions.

“For now. Next time I ask, you will answer. Go into the kitchen, slave. Grab a knife and come back and take your place.”

“A knife?” The woman tried fighting against Ethan, but she didn’t stand a chance against his powerful hold. She was screaming again, trying to twist and thrash in his arms, and me…I was jumping up and running.I was obeying.It wasn’t me that was going to die tonight. It wasn’t me.

Master A-0011

No name. Why didn’t she want me to know or call her by her name? It made no sense, but did it need to? I kept thinking about it in regards to myself. Her request wasn’t about me, it was about her, and it was obvious that she wasn’t holding on to her past. Why would she after whatever she’d gone through? It was obvious something traumatic happened. It didn’t matter if it was done purposefully or by accident, the scars within my slave ran deeper than her skin. It was in the way she shook like a beaten puppy and hid her face. In the way she was so quick to apologize or obey. She jumped at my commands. That was about to come to a crashing halt, and I felt no pleasure in the thought of punishing her. It had to be done. My new slave was about to see her new life wasn’t going to be any better than her last, and before it was over with, her name was going to be the last thing she’d want to forget.

“Master, your knife.”

Different layers of frizzy curls bounced as she slowed to a stop. From her chin to just above her shoulders, the ringlets were just as wild as her eyes. But neither were that way by choice. It was the environment. My slave was scared and on edgedespite her need to please, and it was showing as she let the mass amount of her curls hang forward from her tilted head.

“If you want to be on my good side, you’ll stop hiding your face from me. Sit down like you were before.”

Without hesitation, she took her place.

“Let me see.”

Slowly, she lifted the large butcher knife. My brow crinkled as I took it in.

“That’s the one you decided on?”

Her eyes jerked over to the large blade.

“I…I wasn’t sure which to grab. I figured if you’re going to hurt someone, you’d need a large knife.”

My head shook, and I tightened my hold on the brunette, hooking my legs around hers as she fought harder. Her feet were planted down, and she pushed me back long enough for my own foot to sweep her legs out from under her and lock her in again.

“The size of the blade makes no difference. It’s what you do with it and where you stick it that denotes the damage. What you’re going to do won’t need a blade that big, but since you chose that particular one, I’m going to make you use it.”

Color drained from her face.

“Me?”

“She wasn’t hurting my feelings. It was you she was talking about, so it’ll be you that teaches her a lesson.”

“But.” Her gaze went to the woman’s, only to return to mine. “What do you want me to do?”

I searched her eyes, holding the brunette against me with one arm as I gestured for her to come closer with my free hand. My slave leaned in, but I could see her hesitancy.

“I want you to be strong. How well do you know your scars?”

Her gaze dropped. Seconds passed. When she lifted back up to meet me, the gray of her eyes had brightened to a vivid blue with the welling tears.

“I know them better than I know myself. They’ve defined me for as long as I can remember. Theyareme.”

I could have argued that. I could have tried to convince her otherwise. Thing was…scars didn’t have to be physical to cause pain. Most of the scars I held, the outside world couldn’t see. They were mental scars—traumatizing moments that carved hollow holes in my humanity. My slave may have held the proof of her past on her body, but we were both maimed from conditions beyond our control. I killed the cause of mine. Could I get her to kill too?

“Shh.” I said, holding the dark-haired slave against me so tightly she couldn’t move. “It’s useless fighting me. Embrace your ego. It got you right where you are. No point in having regrets now.”

“I said I’m sorry. I’m s-sorry.”

“I’m not. You’d already be dead if it wasn’t for your rude comments. I would have killed you in that shower. At least now my night won’t be as insignificant as it appeared only moments ago.”