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  “You have a boyfriend?”

  She presses her lips together again. Oh she has a neat little tell when she doesn’t want to talk.

  “Yeah,” she says. “He’s a marine. He’s going to come here and kick your ass.”

  “Is that right? Where was he when you were being plied with drinks in the bar?”

  Her eyes flash. She doesn’t know that I know absolutely everything about how she was picked up. Nothing was left to chance. I saw a video of her lithe little ass swaying to the music before my man lured her in. She was very much alone, and very much on the prowl.

  “You’re going to want to tell me the truth,” I purr softly, pulling her closer to me. “If I find that you’ve lied to me, you’ll be punished. Harshly.”

  Her eyes flash defiance before she gives in. “Fine. I don’t have a boyfriend at the moment.”

  “You’ll never have a boyfriend again, little one. You’ll have an owner.”

  Siri rolls her eyes.

  I let out a short laugh, surprised by her reaction. Usually that revelation brings hysterics, but she acts like I just told her to clean her room.

  “You do understand what is happening to you, don’t you?”

  “I’d have to be an idiot not to,” she says, fresh attitude surfacing. This one is going to test me. I am going to be taking my palm to her ass frequently, I can already tell that much.

  I turn my attention away from her attitude and toward her appearance. She’s very pleasing to the eye. I like her hair. It’s long, but we’ll grow it out even longer. Men like long hair on their toys. Her eyes are a very nice shade of blue. I imagine they’ll shine in the sun, if she ever sees light again.

  “What do you think is happening?”

  “You’re probably going to kill me or something.”

  Again, she speaks as if it doesn’t matter, as if my killing her would be a minor inconvenience. I wonder if she’s more damaged than she looks. A violent father, a deceased mother… major losses at a young age leave their marks on people. I should know better than anyone. She may be broken.

  “I’m not going to kill you, Siri.”

  She shrugs, as if it doesn’t really matter one way or another.

  “What do you last remember?”

  “Being in a club,” she says. “A guy bought me a drink…”

  “Never take drinks from strangers,” I chide gently. “They rarely have good intentions.”

  “I know,” she says, looking at me with those strangely calm eyes. “That’s why I drank it.”

  Jesus.

  Siri

  He is handsome, but it is the kind of handsome which is just a veneer for evil. His face is generic in an attractive way. Dark hair, dark eyes, smooth voice. His bone structure is square and well balanced. The worst things come in the most attractive packages in my experience, and he is no exception.

  “What’s your name?”

  My survival depends on understanding this man. As much as he is trying to work me out, I’m trying to do the same - except I can’t let that show.

  “You can call me Stavros.”

  I nod.

  He is a bad man. He has fucked up intentions. But he hasn’t hurt me, not yet, anyway. That’s good. I was bracing for pain. I thought he might be a sadist. I know he’s a sicko.

  “So, why do you have me, Stavros?” I ask a question I already know the answer to.

  “This is what I do,” he says, brushing another strand of hair away from my eyes. “I collect fine women, and I train them for service. When you are ready, you will be the pleasure toy of one of the richest men in the world.”

  His words sound somehow far away, but I think it’s because I’m not breathing. I can’t believe he just said all of that, and so calmly too. I’m doing my best to stay collected in front of him. I have to toe a fine line. If I’m too calm, he’ll know something is up with me. If I give into my fear, then I’ll be useless to myself.

  I’m already fucking this up. When I said the thing about drinking that laced drink, his head shot back like I’d socked him right on the nose. I can’t give into my nihilistic tendencies right now. I have to pretend I’m someone this would matter to.

  “But, I have to go back to school. I have two more years… I have…”

  “Nothing to worry about except me,” he interjects.

  I like the way he speaks. His voice is low and calming. He doesn’t have the hectic energy of a madman, even if he is one. It’s helping keep me together, even as my world falls apart.

  “Are you going to hurt me?”

  “There is no benefit in hurting you,” he says. “And there’s certainly no point in traumatizing you. Nobody wants their toy to come to them broken.”

  “Toys only get broken once they’re opened.”

  His eyes light up with something like mirth. “Exactly,” he says without any kind of remorse or concern.

  I swallow. There’s no point trying to appeal to his better side. I don’t think he has one. And there’s definitely no point in trying to make him feel sorry for me. He doesn’t care. My mind is racing. What do you say? What do you do? There are no scripts for moments like these. He said he was going to sell me.

  “How much am I worth?”

  His brow rises. “Why?

  “I’m curious. I study economics. How much am I worth?”

  “Depends,” he says, running his gaze up and down me with the critical eye of a marketer. “Are you a virgin?”

  “No.”

  “Less, then.”

  I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised to discover that people who sell women are misogynistic.

  “Although, we could get you hymen surgery and sell you as virginal, you look innocent enough,” he comments thoughtfully.

  Everything he says is terrible, but he delivers it in such a way that it sounds nearly pedestrian.

  “I mean, ROI, am I right?” I agree blandly.

  It’s his turn to look shocked.

  “You do understand that I am serious, Siri. You will be trained and sold.”

  “Right. Yes.”

  “Your life as you know it is over.”

  “Yes.”

  He shakes his head at me. “This is usually the part where the begging and the crying starts.”

  “Does it work?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I might skip that part, then.”

  Read The Seller!

  About Loki Renard

  USA Today Bestselling Author of more than sixty titles, Loki Renard lives in the remote South Island of New Zealand. She writes sizzling hot, action packed stories of dominance, submission and discipline.

  Ready for something different?

  Read the fully completed Vicious Series!

  Kitty

  I had one rule: Don't. Get. Caught.

  I've just broken it.

  And I've been more than just caught. I've been taken.

  Maybe that's not big news. A hundred girls get taken every damn day.

  But not by this guy.

  Vicious is an English master criminal with a dominance complex.

  He doesn't take 'no' well.

  He doesn't take it at all.

  He's going to make me say yes.

  He's going to make me damn well scream it.

  Vicious

  Kitty's crossed the wrong people, and now her life is in danger.

  I can save her, but I'm no hero.

  She'll pay her dues.

  Obey my rules.

  If she's a good Kitty, she'll be well compensated.

  If she's a bad Kitty, my bed awaits.

  This city rewards the strong, punishes the weak, and destroys the innocent.

  So do I.

  And many, many, many (really, many) more! Check out my Amazon author page for my complete backlist!

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