Planet Athion: The Complete Series by Angel Lawson

62

Mercy

Rhise offersme a pill to take off the edge, and in a moment of clarity, I take the tiny yellow pill from him. Two, actually, which gets a rise of his perfectly arched eyebrow. I hate the Master having more control over me than he already does, but there’s only so much I can take. The prep team slinks from the room and I’m left to bide my time alone.

Or really, prepare myself. Because that little pep talk Rhise gave me? It sparks something.

I avoid looking at myself in the mirror. I actually don’t think I look bad. Rhise does a good job. Too good, and I hate that the Master is the one that gets to see me like this—not the men I’m actually in love with. I love them, I understand that, and that bond creates something in me that’s hard to snuff. It’s what prompts me to search the room for anything and everything I can find. Hair pins, a shard of glass, the poker by the fire.

I place myself by the bar, waiting, waiting, waiting, like a woman before the gallows. After an eternity, I hear footsteps in the hall and the lock unbolt. My hands shake as I set into motion pouring two drinks, one specifically for the Master, placing two pieces of ice into the glass along with liquor.

I hear him enter the room, a low murmur under his breath. My skin crawls but I plaster a smile on my face and turn, giving him a lazy smile and holding the glass outstretched in my hand.

He’s dressed less formally than I normally see him, although still nice. A dark blue sweater highlights his eyes and compliments his coloring. The fit of his pants is perfection and there’s a casual easiness that makes him appealing, making my mind play tricks on me. I know better, but this is why the Trads were able to take over our society; they blend in, deceive, manipulate.

“Mercy,” he says, eyes roaming over my body. He takes the drink, fingers grazing mine. “You look ravishing.”

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t drink, instead placing the glass on the table, and stands before me. “I know you’re nervous. I talked to Rhise and he said he did his best to make you comfortable.”

“Rhise is a very kind person.”

“And a good worker,” he says, unable to think of his slaves as individuals. His eyes rake over me again. “He knows exactly what I want and always gives it to me.”

There we go, the little threats, the little power plays that he can’t turn off. I pick up his glass and hand it to him again and say, “I’m a little nervous. Can we talk first?”

“Of course.” He gestures to the chaise and although it’s made for one person, we sit on it together. “This is a date.”

Yes, because on all “dates” I’m wearing lingerie when I open the door. I shake off the annoyance. “I’ve been wondering about something.”

“What’s that?”

“What was it like the first time you were with my sister?”

He blinks, processing the boldness of my question. I’ve never mentioned her before. It hurts too much, but tonight, the gloves are off. I can’t worry about my feelings. I reach out and place my hand on his leg. “I’d really like to know."

He drops his gaze to my hand—I’ve never willingly touched him before. He traces my fingers with his and says, “She was happy. We’d met at a bar near the hospital. I thought her scrubs were cute. There was something about her that just resonated with me.”

“She had that way about her.”

He nods, shifting toward me. “As do you.”

I take a sip of my drink. “I have a confession. I’m scared.”

“Of what? Me? You don’t have to be.” His expression is genuine. “I’ll be gentle.”

“I just don’t know what to expect. I’ve never…”

He frowns. “Don’t lie and say you’re a virgin.”

My heart pounds. “No. No, of course not, but a Tradrych, I’ve never experienced that before.” I glance down, playing bashful. “I’ve heard you’re skilled lovers.” I lick my lips. “And well endowed—more so than our human men.”

He smiles with pride and touches my chin, tilting it toward him. “I think you’ll find lovemaking with me pleasurable, Mercy.”

He leans toward me but I stand, taking his hand and bringing him with me. I hold up my glass and raise it in a toast.

“To tonight. A new beginning in our relationship,” I say, making it up off the top of my head.

He holds up his glass and says, “Tonight,” and drinks it all in one gulp.

I walk to the bed, feeling a little lightheaded, and it’s not game play when I grip his arm for support. Between the increasing intoxication and the six-inch spiked heels Rhise put me in, I stumble on my feet, but he holds me tight, slipping an arm around my waist.

He helps me on the bed and I sit back away from the edge. I’m surprised when he reaches for my legs, skimming his fingers lazily down my calves and slowly removing each of the heels. He drops them on the carpeted floor with a soft thud.

I brace myself as he removes his shirt, revealing the hard-muscled physique. He’s handsome but I know the truth, inside there are red scales and horns, and sharp, deadly teeth. He can shift in an instant and that’s a terrifying notion. I need him calm and relaxed in this form.

He stands by the bed, reaching for his buckle, and my heart races like it’s about to burst free. I get to my knees and reach for him. “Let me.”

I take my time. I procrastinate. I smile, I look up at his face, his eyes, seeking the signals I’m looking for. Listless eyes, lazy tongue. I see traces but there’s still alertness.

Of evil.

While I lower his zipper, his hands graze my thighs, reaching up under the flimsy bottom of my top. I fight a recoil, god I hate this man. His pants drop. I see the want beneath his shorts. I pull him to the bed, rolling us around. He’s pliable, laughing, and I crawl on top.

“You’re so much like your sister,” he says suddenly. “She was spirited in bed, too. She taught me so much about the human female body, and I knew immediately she was the one.”

My lower lip trembles but his admission gives me strength. My hands slip down his body, hands tugging at his shorts. He moans at my attention and I avoid looking at his cock. I stroke down his thighs and push back, my toes touching the floor. His eyes are closed, enjoying my attention.

His quest for pleasure will be his downfall.

My next moves are quick. I slide my hand under the pillow, bringing out the shard of glass and pick up a spiked heel. His eyes open just before the sharp edge of the glass swipes at his throat.

Blood sprays.

“No!” he gasps and I come for him again, using the shoe like a weapon, stabbing the pointed heel into his chest. He roars and gets to his feet. “Not like this, not like this.”

Desperation fills his eyes.

Blood pours down his chest but it’s not enough to stop him and I realize how stupid I am. Even with the drug in his drink he’s bigger, stronger, and who am I to think I can take down this man? He’s the Master. The owner of men and women. He’s powerful. Unstoppable.

He grabs me by the wrist and shoves me against the wall. “I lied when I said it was going to be gentle. I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll pray for the end of your life. But it won’t end and I’ll do it again. And again. And again. And when I’m ready, I’ll make those pathetic Custos watch me defile you and then kill you all.”

We’re both covered in blood and I realize I still have the glass in my hand. I look him in the eye and say, “You won’t get the chance, because just like my sister, you don’t get to determine my end game.” I hold the shard to my belly. “And my Custo? Two are still out there and when they find you? They’ll rip you to shreds.”

With all my strength I push the glass in, feeling the slice of pain as it enters my stomach. Everything around me fades and I hear him scream, I hear loud sounds of anger, pounding, voices, as my body slides down the wall and down to the floor.

I blink and see his figure come back over, standing over me. I smile up at his face and then frown.

“Jesus.”

The hand that touches me, reaches for me, picks me up. It’s not the Master.

It’s an angel of mercy with the face of a Greek god.

Damon.