WARPED VANITY ( BL)

CHAPTER 8

Don’t you dare!” Samuel shouted, lunging toward the camera as if it was vegas. Dante gripped his arm to stop him, but even my uncle appeared at the edge of control.

Vegas ignored them, except for a twitch of his lip. He pulled out the knife he’d used to slaughter Simeone and showed it to me. “They can pay for their sins with pain or pleasure.”

  I shuddered. “You have no right to judge other people’s sins,” I whispered harshly. Vegas slowly walked behind me, too close, his breath hot against my neck. My eyes landed on the screen and met Samuel’s desperate gaze. He looked on the verge of breaking. I needed to be strong for them, for him and Dad, and even Dante and Danilo. For the Outfit.

What do you choose, Pete? Will you surrender to torture or pay with your body?”

  I held Samuel’s gaze. I’d take my pride to the grave with me. Women were built to give birth. These men could brave pain and so could I.

  vegas stepped back into my view. “If you don’t choose, I will make the choice for you.” His eyes and face said he knew my choice, was sure of it, because I was a boy, weak and insignificant.

  I smiled arrogantly. “I will choose the bite of cold steel over the touch of your unworthy hands any day, vegas korawit theerapanyakul.”

  His eyes flashed with surprise, respect ... and terrifying excitement. “I will enjoy your screams.”

  “Vegas, this is enough,” Dante ordered.

Vegas only stared at me, murmuring, “We have only just begun.” Without a warning he gripped me, whirled me around, and jerked me against his body—his chest, every inch of him pressing against my back and ass. His hand cupped my chin, tilting my head up so I was forced to look at him. He wanted to see my eyes, my expression, my fear and terror when he made me scream.

  I returned his gaze with all the hatred and disgust I could summon. I hoped I’d be strong enough to deprive him of my screams, prayed for it. “Where would you like to feel my blade?”

He held the gleaming steel right before my eyes, letting me see the sharp edge of it. I had seen that both vegas and kinn’s theerapanyakul tattoos covered scars on their forearms. Maybe it meant something, maybe not. I had nothing to lose at this point.

  “Or did you change your mind about your choice? Will you pay with your body after all?”

 I didn’t trust my voice because terror clogged my throat, and Vegas could see it. I gripped his wrist and guided the knife to my arm until the cool blade touched the soft skin of my forearm, close to my veins.

  Something flickered in vegas ’s eyes and triumph filled me, because for some reason this spot got to him. I kept my hand on his as the blade rested against my sensitive skin

Vegas pressed and I tensed at the slight burn, but he wasn’t really cutting yet—as if he couldn’t bring himself to do it. I couldn’t believe it was because he had reservations about hurting me; this was the cruelest man in the west after all. And it definitely wasn’t because he couldn’t bear to destroy my unblemished skin. I was sure he’d love to be the first to leave a mark. There was something else holding him back, something dark and powerful. I pushed against his hand, pushed it down on my arm, and the blade cut my skin, but vegas resisted.

  I searched his dark eyes, wondering what went on in their depths, terrified of ever finding out. Vegas ’s eyes hardened, turned harsh, brutal, and finally he pressed the blade down and it cut through my skin. Sharp pain burned through me, and I shook under the force of it, my hand still on top of his as he drew the knife across my skin, but not stopping him. For some reason his eyes reflected my pain as if he could feel it more profoundly than I did.