Survival ( Book 2: Stronger Series )

3. The Rules

Still gripping one of my wrists, the owner released my ankles, pulled me from the wall, and led me up the staircase. When we reached the top, he tugged me down one of the many hallways and stopped at the third door on the right. Opening the door, he pulled me inside and finally released his grip.

Turning gradually, I looked around at what was probably now my bedroom and a sense of warmth slowly enveloped me. The colors of the room reminded me of fall, as the walls were warm reds, soft peaches, and pumpkin oranges. A bed was to my right and it was a beautiful four-poster canopy with a soft satiny dark red comforter and tons of fluffy, frilly pillows. A white dresser with a large mirror was set against the wall not too far from the bed and a white vintage-looking vanity sat in the right corner of the room between two windows.

Light cream colored drapes fell to the floor to accommodate the tall windows that stretched from the floor to ceiling, but the best window of all was the bay window with a reading nook, decorated with more cushions and pillows that led out from the corner of the room. Sitting in another corner of the room was the comfiest-looking chaise I had ever seen. Cream colored and plush, it was beckoning me, promising me the best nap of my life, but that would have to wait. Behind me to my left was a rather large white desk. Placed next to it was a small white bookshelf adjacent to the white wooden framed fireplace. Why was everything white?

I slowly walked around the room, trying to familiarize myself with it. Further down, directly opposite the bed, was another door I hoped led to a private bathroom.

"What do you think?" he asked from behind me, general curiosity filling his voice.

"It's beautiful." I sighed, folding my arms across my chest. It really was, but I still hated the fact I was there. I turned back around to find him leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets and the small hint of a smile on his lips.

"I'm glad you like it," he said. "I had it decorated especially for you."

Did he now ...

"How long ago did you plan on purchasing me?" I asked. It had only been a few hours since the auction. He waited a few moments, calculating his answer, and then finally spoke.

"If I'm being honest with myself ... yesterday, but when I saw the way you fought in the viewing room, there was no question about it. You were mine."

"That was kind of the opposite effect I was going for."

"Oh? And what were you going for?"

"I knew there wasn't any hope for me, but I thought maybe if I could show your clients how unsuccessful your methods were at breaking slaves, they'd lose faith in your business."

He laughed at that. "Nice try, but that would have never worked. There are people out there with desires far more twisted than mine are. Broken girl or not, they all sell eventually. If anything, your little stunt just made them want you more. You should be grateful I stepped in to rescue you."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "And what about the rest of the girls? Were they not as lucky as I was?" I suddenly feared greater for Kayla, wondering what kind of sadistic fuck had purchased her.

"Those girls are no longer your concern. They will acclimate to their new lives just as you will."

"Assuming they live long enough," I shot back.

"Again, not your concern." He narrowed his eyes at me, that silent warning to drop the matter, but I wasn't very good at subtle hints.

"Well, tough shit; it is my concern. I care about those girls because they aren't just chattel to me as they are to you." He stepped away from the wall during my little rant and began sauntering toward me, but I didn't care. I continued on, giving him exactly what I wanted him to hear. "And if you think I'm just going to forget about it, then you're dead fucking wrong."