The Dancer and the Masks by Bea Paige

Chapter 4

KONRAD

The heavy clunk of the key turning in the lock forces Zero out of her apathy. I can hear the sound of her teeth clacking as I push open the iron door and whilst, admittedly, the cell is cold, she’s dressed warmly enough not to be in immediate danger. I know it’s more likely fear that’s causing her teeth to chatter and not hypothermia. My stomach tightens with twisted delight. Fear is a dish I like to indulge in regularly, and the thought of having Zero at my mercy instantly fuels my hunger.

I’m ravenous.

Stepping into the cell, I relish the fact that there’s no one around but me. Leon is busy going over the arrangements with the Numbers for the next show, and Jakub has taken himself off to the forest doing fuck knows what, leaving me free to indulge in a little mindfuckery.

“Who’s there?” she calls out, her voice tight, trembling.

I don’t answer right away, instead I enjoy the rapid rise and fall of her breath and the chink of the chains as she shifts position. Leaning against the doorframe, I allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness, her form taking shape before me. My eyes are keener than most, and over the years have somehow adjusted to the low levels of light in the dungeons, though I suppose that’s not all that surprising given the amount of time I spend down here.

“Who’s there?” Zero repeats.

She’s leaning against the wall, her side pressed against it, her knees drawn up, her arms wrapped tightly around them. She doesn’t look at me, instead she presses her cheek against the cold stone as though hoping it will somehow draw her into its embrace.

“Which of you is it?” she asks, a sudden strength in her voice that surprises me. She showed her fight in the van, and now it’s here once again. Fear might be something I enjoy immensely, but give me an acquisition that fights back, and well, I’m fucking hooked.

“This is my domain,” I rumble. My voice is naturally low, gruff. I swallow hard, trying to temper the need within it.

She flinches, but remains resolute. “Konrad?”

“Yes, that’s right. How did you know?”

“You have a distinctive voice. It’s hard to forget.”

“So I’ve been told.”

She shifts her position, the low groan emanating from her lips as she moves, only adding to the intensity of my feelings. It’s going to be hard to control myself around Zero knowing that she’s ours, and that means sharing. My brothers and I made a pact and we won’t break it no matter how strong our individual desires or needs might be. Growing up under the domineering presence of our father, and his very particular choice of discipline, made us form a tight bond. An unbreakable one. We trust each other above all else, and whilst we may all have needs that we wish to explore fully with Zero, sharing her means there is a line we cannot cross unless all three of us agree.

“What do you want from me?” she asks, the tremble in her voice fucking with my need to stay strong.

What do I want…? I want you naked, bound and whipped. I want to run my tongue over the red welts from the lashes that will redden your skin. I want your tears. I want your fear. I want your orgasms and your screams of lust. I want your pain. I want to cause it.

I want toheal your wounds. Fuck, I want that so bad.

I think about all those things, not voicing any of them. “Right now I want your cooperation.”

“My cooperation?” A bitter laugh escapes her lips. “You chain me up in this room for hours with no water or food and you expect my cooperation?”

“I don’t expect it. I demand it,” I counter. “You do as I ask, when I ask, and you’ll be free of this cell. You refuse, you stay. Either way makes no difference to me. This dungeon, these cells are where I thrive. Stay as long as you like, Zero.”

“And the others? What do they want?”

“We’re all in agreement that you need to earn the right to comfort through obedience,” I say, telling her a little white lie.

The truth is, Leon and Jakub had argued against me bringing her down here, not because they felt any sympathy for her plight, but because their own selfish needs fought for precedence. Eventually my argument won out, that a few hours down here in the dungeon would reinforce her position as captive and slave. She might be ours, but she still needs to learn her place, first and foremost. Besides, the thought of her alone and afraid in my dungeon turned me on like nothing else. I’ve had a semi ever since I locked her up down here. A few hours had turned into twenty-four and I’m done waiting.

She snorts. “You want me to obey you?”

“Honestly, I’d rather you didn’t. The longer you’re down here, the more fun it is for me.”

“You really are monsters,” she whispers, as though she’d hoped otherwise, had thought that perhaps there was a chance we weren’t everything we appear to be.

But we are. We are the monsters of her nightmares.

I grin in the darkness, stepping closer. “That all depends…”

“On what?”

Reaching for the lighter in my pocket, I unhook the oil lamp that hangs midway along the stone wall to my right. Lighting it, I rest it back on the hook then turn to face her. “On how you behave, Zero…”

My voice trails off, stunned momentarily by her thick, wavy hair. My fingers itch to stroke the strands. In the darkness the colour was dulled, but now I see it in all its glory—a crown of red tresses, highlighted with oranges and golds as it tumbles down her back—I imagine it wrapped around my fist, her lush mouth choking on my cock.

Fuck. Focus, Konrad.

“And if I don’t behave?” she asks, surprising me with her forthright question.

She can’t help but glance at me sideways beneath the curtain of her hair. Her eyes trail slowly upwards, taking in my appearance and widening at my choice of mask. It’s different to the plain black one we wore to kidnap her in. This is a full face mask, with larger slits for the eyeholes and a gaping mouth with pointy gold teeth. Both it and the sharp cut of the suit I’m wearing now is another form of camouflage, designed to intimidate the type of clientele we entertain. Not that we really need to. Our reputation precedes us. When you’re in our home, you obey our rules or end up a rotting corpse in the lower bowels of the castle. Everyone knows that. Stepping towards her, I tip my head to the side, fully aware of how menacing I look.

“We’re men with very… particular desires. Fail to follow orders and you’ll soon learn what it means to be truly owned by The Masks.”

“I think I already have a good idea,” she mutters sarcastically, turning her gaze away, her long red hair hiding her face from me once again. Her response isn’t typical. There’s normally tears, begging, anger and rage, but never sarcasm. Her will is strong. It impresses me.

“Whatever you think you know about us, think again. You can’t even begin to understand who we are, Zero.”

“Stop calling me that. My name is Christy. Christy,” she repeats.

“No, it isn’t. That person is gone. You’ll do well to remember that.”

“And what if I choose not to? What if I choose to remind you every day who I am? What if I choose to fight back?”

“Then the fun really begins. We’re more than willing to play that game, but know this,” I say, crouching before her. “The Masks always win.”

Reaching out, I grab a strand of her hair, rubbing the silkiness between my thumb and finger, recalling the way it had spread out across her pillow as she’d slept peacefully in her home, unaware of the danger she’d been in. I swear to fuck, when we’d crept into her room and I laid eyes on her, she took my breath away. Her hair was a splash of red, stark against the white cotton. Her plump lips, so pink and full. Her long, dark lashes fluttered against her perfect porcelain skin as she slept. Leon had remained impassive as he injected her with the drug that kept her under the first time around, and Jakub appeared uninterested, unaffected by her beauty. But me? I’d been entranced.

Truth be told, for the few hours we’ve spent apart, I’ve been wondering whether the silky strands would burn me as much as a naked flame would. An abstract thought that has no basis in reality, but one in which I indulged nonetheless. In all honesty, her fight in the van, her beauty, and the strangeness of her eyes, has enraptured me more than I’d care to admit. It’s not as if I haven’t been around beautiful women before; every single Number my father had collected before that motherfucker, Beast, killed him, is stunning. It’s just that there’s something so… alluring about her that I can’t put my finger on. Something I wish to explore further.

Reaching into my inside pocket I pull out my flick-knife. My fingers run over the ivory, smooth now from years of use. With a snap of my wrist the blade slides free, the sharp edge glinting in the firelight from the oil lamp. Zero stiffens, her fingers digging into her arms as her courage wanes. Without saying a word, I cut away a length of her hair, placing both it and the knife back in my pocket.

“Do you always take what isn’t yours?” she asks, the shackles rattling as she reaches for the spot now missing six inches.

“Yes.”.

“Next time you try and take something that doesn’t belong to you, don’t expect to keep your fingers.”

I laugh. Her defiance is both amusing and tries my patience. “Keep turning me on like that and I might just forget the pact I made with my brothers and lock you up down here permanently.”

She has the good sense to keep her response to herself, even though I can tell that’s hard to do. Her whole body is strung tight, wired and ready to react, to fight, and whilst it would be so easy to indulge, to forget the promise I made to Leon and Jakub not hours before, I won’t. That doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun though. Reaching over, I press my fingers against her hand.

“You’re cold,” I observe, expecting her to flinch away from my touch. She doesn’t.

“I’ve been locked in this cell for hours with no heat, no light, no blanket to keep me warm. Of course I’m cold,” she snaps back. “If you wanted me dead, then you’re going the right way about it.”

I laugh, drawing my hand away, impressed by the disdain in her voice and the fight that comes out through her gritted teeth. It fires me up inside. She doesn’t realise how fucking attractive it is. Taming the wild ones is my speciality after all.

“That can be rectified.”

“How?”

“I could fuck you warm.”

Her head snaps around and this time her gaze meets mine. For a moment I’m rendered speechless by the opposing colours of her eyes and the fire that burns within them.

“You could try!”

“I could. I can, but fucking you chained up like this isn’t on the top of the list of things I wish to do to you right now.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” she spits, fury bathing her voice in fire. “Isn’t that what you do down here in this place, abuse people whilst they’re helpless?”

“Yes, when the mood takes me,” I admit. “Though, if you really want to know what happens in these chambers, I’m happy to show you.” I reach in my pocket for the knife once more, flicking it open, then I press the flat side of the blade beneath her chin, lifting her face. Her breath stills, her eyes widening. “Do you want me to show you, Zero?” I ask, licking my lips, my heart pounding, my fingers itching to nick her skin. Pushing her like this, testing her boundaries, enjoying her flush of fear, it turns me on.

“Do I have a choice? Aren’t I already yours? Won’t you act regardless of whether I want you to or not?”

“That’s very true. You’re learning fast,” I say, drawing back the knife and tucking it back into my pocket. She looks away, refusing to meet my gaze. “Besides,” I continue. “I’m getting the feeling that you like to hide from the things that haunt you. Fortunately for you, I love to unmask them so I’m happy to indulge you if we both get something out of it.”

“Ha!” she laughs, shaking her head. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“I know plenty.” But not enough.

Grim had hid her well. Zero, by all accounts, doesn't use social media. Keeps to herself. Is a recluse apart from when she goes to work at the hospice, an interesting choice of job if you ask me. Her older, half-sister might be Grim, fearless ruler of Tales, but she doesn’t share any of the same history, or at least never met their father before he died. It was difficult to find out much about Zero’s past before Grim came into her life, aside from the fact her mother died in a house fire and she’d somehow survived it.

“You’ll never know the real me. Never!” she insists.

“I’ll find out what makes you tick. I’ll find your truth. I always do.”

Laughter bursts free from her lips. “You’re wrong, you won’t be able to see past your own desires to unravel the truth of who I am. Monsters like you are selfish, greedy, self-centred.”

“Is that a challenge, Zero?”

“It’s an invitation. I’m not afraid of you,” she replies, lifting her chin, her nostrils flaring just like the wild horses that roam the hills and valleys surrounding our remote castle. She reminds me of them, untamed in a way that is thrilling to witness.

“You should be afraid, but in a way I’m glad you’re not. It will make this so much more enjoyable. Someone who’s easily scared is also easily manipulated. You, however, are not, and that intrigues me.” I grasp her chin, my fingers digging into bone and flesh, capturing strands of her long hair. She grits her teeth, I feel them grinding together beneath my touch. Leaning closer, my lips brushing against hers, I allow some of the truth of who I am to bleed into my voice. “My brothers and I find pleasure in many things. Passion, fight, fear. They all turn us on, but hunting a worthy foe, that is something we crave above all else. Three against one, not very good odds, hmm?”

“Fuck you,” she mutters.

“Such dirty words coming from such a pretty mouth. I wonder, Zero, are you really this brave or are you just like the other Numbers and full of bluster and bravado?”

Suddenly, my need to take what isn’t freely given is overridden by my desire to tame the untamable without it breaking. Every single Number who lives in this castle has had their spirit crushed. They’ve become a weaker, duller version of themselves no matter how they might seem on the surface. I don’t want that to happen to Zero, not because I feel any kind of empathy for her situation or remorse for kidnapping her, but because she’ll be so much more enjoyable if she maintains this fire, her fight.

Long may it rage.

“You seem to think you know everything there is to know about me, what do you think?” she counters.

“If I sliced these clothes from your body, and fucked you until you couldn’t feel your legs, would you still be as brave then?”

“Try me.”

“I’d love nothing more than to test that theory right now—”

“So what are you waiting for? Do it. Do what you came here to do! Fuck me. Abuse me. Rape me. Take my body and use it! That’s what you want, isn’t it? Stop talking about it and do it! Or is it you who is full of bluster and bravado?” she snarls, throwing my words back at me.

“No.”

“No?”

Her eyebrows pull together in a frown, her lips trembling. I find myself leaning back, my fingers freeing her chin and sliding over her cheek so I can cup her face. It’s a tender gesture and throws her. I see the uncertainty, the flicker of hope in her gaze as I hold her captive in my stare. I watch in fascination as she studies me, her strange eyes both alluring in their own way.

“Ghost eyes,” I mutter.

“What?” She flinches as though I’ve struck her.

“Tell me, can you see into Heaven and Earth at the same time?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.

“Your eyes. They’re different.”

“So I’ve been told,” she responds sarcastically.

“Native Americans believe that people with different coloured eyes can see Heaven and Earth at the same time through each eye. So, can you?” I ask, curious as to why me bringing up what was meant to be an offhand comment, is so triggering for our newly acquired plaything.

She snorts. “Next you’ll be asking if I can see into the future!”

I study her for a second, my thumb rubbing over her lips. She tells me nothing, closing down completely so I can’t read her. What I do know is that her unusual eyes are somehow a trigger for her. Interesting. Tucking that piece of information away to unravel at a later date I smile slowly, languishing in her self-consciousness. She doesn’t try to move her hair away from her face, instead she uses it like a shield, hiding behind it. Angry tears pool in her eyes, but she blinks them back refusing to allow them to fall, unlike the tears she had so freely allowed to escape previously given the trails of black mascara over her cheeks.

“Right now, Zero, I want nothing more than to set you free so I can hunt.”

But that’s not the entire truth. My desires are far more complicated than that. I want to hunt. Fuck. Heal. Then I want to do it over again.

She swallows hard, but unlike every other Number, she doesn’t wither beneath my stare. This woman has courage. “So do it then. Set me free. Hunt.”

Somewhere tucked inside the cavernous cage of my chest, my dark heart beats. It goddamn beats as though someone’s stuck a fucking cattle prod in it.

Fuck.

I flinch, letting her go abruptly.

“Let’s go. I’m taking you to our quarters. We can all get better acquainted there.”

“Why not keep me here? Don’t you want me chained up and at your mercy?”

“Eventually, yes, but my brothers are impatient to see you. So our quarters it is.”

Her eyes narrow through the curtain of her hair. “Into the lion’s den...?” she mutters.

I don’t bother to deny it. On the surface my offer appears to be an olive branch, an act of kindness, but it’s nothing more than manipulation. She knows it as well as I do. “You can get out of these filthy clothes, bathe, eat, drink, and rest in a bed.”

For a moment she remains impassive, no doubt considering her choices. Eventually she nods, holding her hands out, her arms trembling from the weight of the chains. “Fine,” she concedes. “Let’s get this over with.”