His hand threaded through my hair. “But I got to keep you.” He smiled, a cruel and wicked smile. “And I won’t be letting you go. I love you. You know that, don’t you? My little red-haired whore.”
He reached for my wrist when I did not answer, so I quickly said, “Yes. I . . . I love you too, Meister.”
Meister pulled back his arm and nodded approvingly. “And because of that, you’ve earned yourself a shower.” Meister unchained me and helped me from my bed. I glanced down at my naked body as I unsteadily got to my feet. I could see my hipbones. I could see my ribs.
When I had gained my balance, Meister led me to the shower room. I wanted to cry with every step, it hurt so much. I had not been showered in days. My limbs were unused to movement. But more than that, with every step I took, I saw my dream of Sapphira drifting farther and farther away from me. And I heard the echo of Meister’s voice . . . you failed . . . you were a terrible, terrible protector . . . a horrible sister . . .
Because it was true.
I had failed her.
Everything had been for nothing.
My life had been for nothing.
Nothing . . .
. . . all I had left in the world.
*****
I let the water fall over my head. My palms were flat to the wall as the steady stream washed away the blood and grime of the last few days. My wrist ached from the harshness of the metallic handcuff, and my new needle marks throbbed as the hot water pounded the holes in my flesh.
I inhaled the billowing steam, praying it would clear my head. But it was no use. My ever-busy mind never rested. It was never at peace. The only times I had any kind of reprieve were when Meister’s potion would puncture my vein and enter my blood.
“Get out,” Meister ordered from beside me. He never left me alone unless I was chained to the bed. Whenever I was freed from my shackles, I was with him. And he watched me. Studied me . . . craved me.
I saw it in his eyes.
It had been that way since Judah gave me to him at New Zion, a sacred gift. The female Judah knew would please Meister beyond measure. And it had worked. I had seduced him, made him crave my touch.
Only now, it was worse. He could not give me up.
I was the air to his lungs and the very beat to his heart.
I was his ultimate obsession.
Meister walked to a nearby set of drawers as I tried to dry myself. When I heard the drawer open, the first morsel of hope I had felt in days blossomed in my chest.
When Meister turned around, holding a white dress in his hands, I had to stop myself from sobbing in happiness. He only ever dressed me when he took me outside. I almost dropped to my knees in yearning at just the thought of feeling the warm sun kiss my face and the fresh air inflate my heavy lungs.
Meister approached me, his nostrils flaring as he drank in my naked body. He took the towel from me, knocking it to the floor. I bowed my head as he stopped before me. I managed to keep completely still, perfectly obedient, as his finger landed on my breast and circled the skin around my nipple.
I let him. I would always let him. I knew the consequences of any act of defiance. It had taken me a full week to recover from my punishment when the devil’s men had invaded New Zion. Meister had found me hiding, but without Grace. I had let him down.
And I was paying the price.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Liebchen,” Meister said as his tongue landed at the bottom of my throat and lapped up the residual droplets of water, all the way up my neck, until he sucked my earlobe in his mouth. I closed my eyes.
I just breathed.
I knew men. It had been my role, my sole duty within New Zion, to know men. I was the female responsible for the Sacred Sisters of New Zion. We left the commune to recruit men, to draw more members to our cause. And I’d believed God would reward me for my service. I would pleasure the men like nothing they had ever known. I was skilled in seduction, a master at making my every touch a taste of the divine.
Judah could not resist me, even going as far as to make me his sole consort. That is, until he found a younger model more suited to his . . . particular needs.
But Meister . . . I had never handled a male such as him before. His strength, his possessiveness and his punishments . . . I was unsure of what to do in his presence. He paralyzed me with fear.
“Get dressed.” Meister handed me the thin white material. With shaking hands, I did as requested, brushing my long, wet hair from my face with my fingers.
Meister kicked a pair of sandals in my direction, and I slipped them on, stopping myself from sprinting toward the door. Then Meister was beside me, holding my arm with an iron-tight grip. He led the way forward, pulling me toward the door. The turning of the lock seemed to take forever. But when the door finally opened and daylight flooded in, I breathed in my first lungful of clean air and instantly felt calm.
I flinched as we stepped outside and sunlight blazed around me. I stilled, trying to gain my bearings as I blinked in the morning sun. Or maybe afternoon, or evening. I did not know.
I leaned into Meister to stop myself from falling, his huge body propping me up when I became lost to a sudden wave of weakness. When the world eventually came back into focus, I took in what was before me. The town, one unlike anything I had ever seen before, with its shacks of all shapes and sizes scattered around the dusty ground. Signs sat above the buildings: “Saloon,” “Jail,” “Dentist,” “Barber” and many more. I had no idea what many of these titles meant, or if these buildings operated as they were named.
A light breeze blew the dirt up into the air, swishing the sand around my feet. It blew the strange flags that hung from the buildings, the material flapping gently.
It was quiet, only a few men walking around the barren town. Many of them looked similar to Meister—they wore the same harsh black tattoos on their skin, had similar shorn haircuts. The coloring was the same; they wore similar clothes.
And they all stared at me.
Meister stiffened when one male passed and cast me a leering smile. He stepped forward, using his massive frame as a weapon of intimidation. “Get the fuck on before I break your motherfucking neck, cunt!” he snarled, sending the other male running into the large building whose sign read “Saloon”.
Meister wrenched me forward. I could tell by his aggressive hold that he was greatly displeased.
I stifled a moan as his hand bruised the skin on my arm. I did not know where we were going. I was simply grateful to be outside. We had barely taken a few steps when a loud shout and the sound of a gun shattered the silence.
My head snapped to the right, to the building where the noise had come from. Meister ground on his heel, his grip tightening.
“Fuck,” he spat when a man came barreling through the building’s door.
“Meister!” the man called. “Problem!”