2. I will be your slave

Just like before, I woke up in a room that felt completely unfamiliar—but this time, my mind was clear. Well, 90% clear. If you don’t count the fact that my whole body felt like jelly and the room felt like it was spinning.

My eyes widened as I looked around. The walls were painted a deep cream color, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows. Either the glass was tinted or there was zero light outside, because I could barely make out anything—just the vague outline of trees, maybe.

By the head of the bed, there was a spiral staircase—my neck even ached from craning to see where it led. And I swear my jaw hit the floor when I looked up and saw this huge circular opening in the ceiling right above the bed, surrounded by glass railing.

My curiosity wanted to climb those stairs. But my instinct? Yeah, it was finally kicking in.

Wait—where the hell am I?

I looked at myself. I was wearing a soft, comfortable white dress—was this silk? My black hair, down to my back, felt smooth and smelled nice. Then I glanced at my left wrist, the cut there was already starting to close up. How many days had passed?

Memories rushed through my head—Nathan’s death, the chaos my family caused, the kidnapping on the bridge, the human auction, and that million-dollar man ….

The sound of a door knob turning made me tense up. The door swung open and a man in a black shirt appeared, pushing a cart. I caught a flash of surprise on his face, but he quickly covered it up with a sweet smile—too sweet, like it was fake.

He pushed the cart aside and stepped closer. “Good evening,” he said softly, but his voice somehow cut straight through me. “I’m glad you’re finally awake.”

“Where am I? Who are you? What did you do to me?” I shot my questions one after the other, scooting away as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“My name’s Ash. You’re at my place. And I saved you. How’s that for answers, little lamb?”

That nickname … It took me back to that night. And his eyes—those unnatural black onyx eyes—I was sure he was the million-dollar man.

“Why did you pay that much for me?”

A million. That’s not pocket change. And definitely not something you’d drop for … a slave?

“Because I can make you give me more than you ever imagined.”

“What do you want from me?” I asked again. “Are you planning to make me your slave?”

He chuckled, leaning in closer—close enough that I caught the faint scent of something dark and masculine on him. “No, sweetheart. I will be your slave.”

I felt my body tremble from something I didn’t understand and didn’t want to admit. “W-what do you mean?”

Ash stared at me like a patient predator, savoring my confusion. “Here … watch.”

Before I could stop him, he grabbed my left hand. His thumb brushed over my wrist, and just like that, the scar was gone.

I gasped, jerking my hand back like it was on fire, backing away as my chest heaved.

“W-what … How … WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?!”

He chuckled lightly. “Are you a believer, little lamb?”

“What kind of question is that?” I snapped, hiding my wrist in front of my chest. “And stop calling me that!”

“Then what’s your name?”

God, the way he talked—like none of this mattered to him at all.

“I’m not telling you.”

He sighed, like he knew this would happen. Or maybe … he was just used to it?

That auction … how many times had he been to one? How many women had he bought? And where were they now? No, what happened to them?

Then I noticed the small towel on the tray he’d brought, next to a bowl of water. “What are those for?”

He glanced at the tray, then back at me. “To clean you up, of course.”

My eyes got even wider when I saw a pile of white cloth on the lower shelf—a set of clothes. My hand went to my chest reflexively—I wasn’t wearing any underwear!

“You changed my clothes?!” I shouted, feeling my face heat up.

He shrugged. “Like I’ve been doing for the past three days while you were asleep here.”

“Are you crazy?!”

“It’s not a big deal. Relax.”

“It is a big deal!”

“I’m not into unconscious women.”

I had a million things to yell at him, but one thing cut through it all.

“No—wait, answer me seriously,” I said, looking at my wrist again, making sure I wasn’t hallucinating. “How the hell did you erase my scar?”

“That’s why I asked if you’re a believer.”

“Stop answering my questions with more questions!” I snapped. He had no right to ask about my faith!

“Alright, brace yourself then,” he said calmly and got up from the bed. He took a step back, eyes locked on mine.

I swallowed hard, bracing for whatever was coming next. But what happened was beyond anything I imagined.

His black eyes glowed bright red, his skin darkened like obsidian, with pulsing red veins beneath the surface. A pair of sharp, curved horns grew from his head, tall and pointed.

I was frozen. My breath quickened as my eyes caught sharp claws replacing his fingers. A long pointed tail swayed behind him. A glowing red symbol pulsed on his chest, like it was alive.

Fear grabbed me so tight I could barely breathe. My heart pounded wildly, cold sweat ran down my temples.

This was not human. Not something I could fight.

The creature stepped closer, his smile unchanged—still charming, still tempting, but now with something far more dangerous inside it. He wasn’t just a man playing with words anymore. He was something older, stronger, and darker than I could comprehend.

“Scared, little lamb?” he whispered.

I wanted to run. But even shifting my weight felt like a struggle.

My hand moved automatically to my neck, nervously feeling around, and my heart nearly stopped when I didn’t find what I was looking for.

Ash, who had instantly changed back to human form, gave a thin, almost mocking smile. His hand slipped inside his collar and pulled out something I knew very well.

My necklace.

The one Nathan gave me. The one I held when I was lost, like holding onto him.

“Give that back!” I yelled, voice cracking between fear and rage.

“Sacramental? Interesting,” hhe said, stepping closer, which made me cross my arms defensively—though it was useless. He leaned down, setting a distance close enough for me to see the necklace but far enough that I couldn’t grab it. “Where did you get this?”

“None of your business,” I answered defensively, though I wondered what he meant.

He laughed softly, full of mockery. “So, this is your thanks after I saved you?”

Saved me?

No.

He just moved me around. He only changed what kind of suffering I’d get. He didn’t save me. He bought me like a thing.

I glared at him, but doubt crept in behind my anger. My jaw tightened as I asked one more time, “What do you really want from me?”

He stepped even closer and sat back down on the bed. His eyes locked with mine, calm. Like he was offering something real.

“Make a deal with me, and I’ll be yours as much as you are mine.”

***

If you were her, would you trust the man who just “bought” you?

240525, Anne Joyce