Chapter 5: A Handsome Devil

Elodie's POV

I felt a sharp sting on my skin, followed by a low buzz from the tattoo gun. The needle pierced through the flesh of my lower abdomen, digging deep.

Finally reacting, I twisted on the bed. Wrong move. Because she pressed my thighs apart, hard, and a sob tore out of me. I shouldn't let her see me break... but I couldn't hold it in. I'm only human after all.

I shut my eyes really tight, trying to focus on anything else but the pain. I’d never had a tattoo before. My parents would never allow it, even though I was already an adult—and Dad had several of his own.

This was nothing like what I imagined it would feel like.

“Hecho,” 'Done,' the woman announced, and the buzzing of the tattoo gun finally stopped.

I looked at her just in time to see her rise to her feet and peel off her gloves. She didn’t spare me a single glance, like I was nothing more than a task she’d finished.

I tried to sit up, wincing sharply at the pain in my body. My eyes dropped to where the needle had been working, just above my lady part.

And there it was—a fresh tattoo, red and angry against my skin.

My eyes widened in horror. My hand flew to my mouth, trapping the gasp before it escaped. Hot tears burned all over again.

"Propiedad de Valiente." 'Property of Valiente.'

My first freaking tattoo was a brand.

Before I could fully process what had just happened, the woman snapped an order in Spanish. The two men who had dragged me in earlier, stepped through the door and came straight for me.

I didn’t have time to think. Didn’t have time to cry over the ugly mark carved into my skin. They grabbed me and hauled me away.

I didn’t fight. I was too weak, too hungry, and too broken to try.

They didn’t take me back to the first room. Instead, I was brought to a more lavish room, the kind of place meant to impress people. Not me. Nothing about it eased the dread crawling through me. Three ladies were there.

I looked around the room, not understanding why I was here in the first place. The men who brought me, said something to the ladies, before leaving.

I've come to accept that no one here was my friend. And after many failed attempts to escape or get help, I didn't bother asking for it from them. 

The first girl had me sit before the dresser mirror, where my pale, shaken reflection stared back at me like a stranger.

She whispered something to me in Spanish, but I didn't catch it. Maybe my Spanish truly needed work. As her hands found their way to my soft curls, I knew she was a hairstylist.

The second girl wheeled in a long rack of clothes, all almost identical in color—white, cream, milky ivory, pale beige, and soft shades so close to each other they all blurred into the same lifeless elegance.

The last girl had a big box with her. If I'm not mistaken, it looked like those cosmetic boxes I've seen one too many times on television.

Are they about to give me a makeover?

I wasn't wrong. Almost an hour later, I was dolled up and completely unrecognizable. Even to myself. 

I stared long and hard at my reflection. My eyes—once dark and dull—now splashed with a warm glittery eyeshadow that made my green eyes pop. My cheeks were rosy and my lips had a mild red lipstick.

If I weren't in this present predicament, I'd say I looked beautiful. 

The second girl had picked out a creamy silky dress for me. It was so soft and glossy like liquid satin, cut short above my knees with a deep plunging neckline trimmed in delicate lace. 

It clung to my body in a way that felt less like clothing and more like something chosen to be looked at. I felt really exposed in it.

Not long after the makeover, the two men escorted me out and away from the tall walls of this prison. 

God. I know I won't be able to get rid of the screams. They had already planted themselves inside my head, there to haunt my dreams for a long, long time.

***

My hands were tied up again. Head hooded with a black cloth that left me in utter darkness. They pulled me with them, and this time, I fought.

"Where the hell are you taking me to?!" I screamed. My legs forced to stay pinned to the ground. My hands couldn't be of much help, but I didn't let that stop me.

“¡Alto!” The one by my left barked, as they continued dragging me out. 

I turned and twisted my head, trying to get the hood off.

I stopped fighting for a second when I felt a cool breeze on my skin. I tried to make out any sound that could confirm we had just stepped out

But I didn't get far with my thoughts. I was quickly shoved into a van. The door slid shut and the van started moving. 

I had stopped moving. All those struggling had made my throat drier and my muscles ache more.

I brought my bound hands up, trying to push the cloth away from my face. 

"¡Para!" The voice caused me to halt. It wasn't from either of the men who took me. This one sounded like the other man who rescued me from that gold-tooth asshole. "You would ruin your hair and makeup," he said. "And we don't want that, do we?"

The makeup and hair could be destroyed. I needed to set my eyes on anything other than this darkness.

But his voice was low and threatening. I gulped and shrank back. I should behave.

 

***

The hood was finally pulled off, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the sudden light. When I opened them again, my vision slowly cleared.

The first thing I saw was a staircase.

The second was a man. He stood at the top of the stairs as he belonged there, like everything beneath him was his by right. Dark hair fell carelessly over his forehead. His eyes were even darker from where I stood. 

Tattoos curled up the side of his neck and disappeared beneath the open collar of his black shirt.

He was beautiful in a way that felt wrong. Dangerous.

“Who’s she?” he asked, sounding almost bored.

“The girl we took in Hawaii,” the man who saved me from gold-tooth man answered quickly. “The one we’re offering to settle the shipment deal, El Cuervo.”

There was a brief silence. Then the man at the top of the stairs tapped his fingers once against the railing. “You brought me a woman as collateral?”

“Sí, El Cuervo. We thought… you might appreciate the gesture.”

That was when he looked at me properly. His eyes moved over me slowly—my bound and bruised wrists, pale skin, straight legs, and feet.

There was no desire in his face. Only annoyance. Like I was some stray animal left on his doorstep.

“I don’t take gifts, Cruz,” he said flatly. “Especially not messy ones.”

Me? Messy? I scoffed, even though fear was clawing through me. “Good. Then tell them to take me back.”

His jaw ticked, eyes darkening even more. “You don’t speak unless spoken to.”

I forced a smile that didn’t feel real. “Then stop talking to me.”

Something changed in his expression. He pushed away from the railing and started down the stairs. One step at a time.

The room felt quieter with every movement he made. We all watched him. No one breathed too loudly.

He was taller than I thought when he got closer. Broader too. The kind of man who didn’t need to raise his voice to frighten people.

He stopped two steps above the ground, still slightly higher than me. Close enough now that I could see the sharp cut of his face, the shadow of stubble along his jaw, the faint scar near his temple.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“None of your business," I replied through gritted teeth, my hands still trying to shake the men holding me off. 

Then something almost like amusement flickered in his eyes. “Feisty,” he said quietly. “That will fade.”

I took a step back. “You don’t scare me.”

He didn’t smile. He leaned forward instead and brushed his thumb across my cheek. The touch was light, and it made my whole body tense.

“No,” he said softly. “But you will be.” His hand dropped. “And after that…” he continued, his gaze holding mine. “You’ll beg to please me.”

Then he straightened, turned around, and walked back up the stairs as if the conversation had already ended.

I stayed where I was, unable to move. My heart pounded so hard it hurt. Fear twisted through me. Anger too. And beneath both of them was something I hated even more.

Curiosity.

Who really was this handsome devil?