Riot (Scarred Souls #4)

“He is?” I asked, swallowing down my apprehension.

“Yes, miss. He will be very happy you’re awake. He’s been getting agitated. He hasn’t even taken another mona. He wants only you.”

Feeling my body aching, I slumped back against the pillows. The chiri hovered by, building up the courage to continue. “Miss, I’ve worked for the monebi all my life. Though you don’t remember what you have been through yet, you should eventually. If you remember, you will be thankful that you have been elevated to this new status.” She glanced down, then sighed. “The monebi life is one of violence and servitude. We are all owned and controlled by Master, but even though I am the lowest of the low, I would willingly take my chiri status over being a mona … the things they make you do.” She swallowed, cheeks flushing with red, and quickly added, “If you submit and obey every command asked of you by Master, you will find yourself much better off.”

The chiri then seized the opportunity to rush from the bed and commence her duties. I watched as she efficiently gathered fresh bed linens and put them in a dresser. Then she moved to a large bathtub and began filling it with water. She added some kind of liquid to the water, and the room quickly filled with the most beautiful perfumed scent.

I closed my eyes as the aroma washed over me. When I opened my eyes, the chiri was walking to the side of the room with a red dress in her hands. She laid it out on a table, then moved back toward the tub. She turned off the faucet and walked my way.

When she stood at the side of my bed, she said, “Miss, I have orders to bathe you. I was instructed by Master that the moment you wake I am to cleanse you, dress you and prepare you, then inform him.”

Panic blossomed inside me again, but I held it back. I knew there was no way out of this. Something, some unknown voice inside my head, told me that I could not fight this fate, whatever it was. Pushing myself to sit up, I accepted the chiri’s offer of help to walk. I leaned heavily on her until I reached the tub. The chiri undressed me and helped me slip into the hot water.

As my body was enveloped in warmth, I sighed as my muscles relaxed, my pain evaporating with the rising steam. I closed my eyes, my eyelids pulled down by tiredness. As I did, the image of a dark-haired female towering over me came to mind. The vision was blurred, but I could see her ordering a male to take me as I writhed in pain on the floor. In the vision, I also saw the scarred male from my previous memory being restrained in the corner of a small room, a metal collar tightly fastened around his thick neck. And he was fighting to be free while I was on the hard floor, a deep, unbearable pain tearing me apart from inside. He was being forced to watch me being ravaged. And at the sight, his huge, built body radiated rage.

The scarred male roared as the one taking me released himself within me. But in that stranger’s release, there was a dampening of the pain I was in. The release brought a brief moment of peace. I remembered closing my eyes, and as I did, the female ordered the scarred male to kill someone. She promised him that if he killed, I would be freed. Even in my drugged state I knew that her words held no truth; by the look on the scarred male’s face I could see he knew it, too. Yet he did as instructed. In his expression, I could see that he would always do as she said … because next time could be the time I was set free.

The room I’d been kept in was cold and dark, but the male agreed to anything asked of him without question. Just as the vision began to disperse, a flood of guilt, shame, and sheer sadness blistered my heart.

I snapped my eyes open as I felt something from my left prick my skin, ripping me from my memory, ripping me from unanswered sorrow. The chiri was at my side, injecting something into my arm: a clear liquid. But I didn’t fight against it. I somehow knew not to fight. Knew that this happened to me daily.

This was my life.





2

152

I felt the liquid from the needle begin to rush through my veins, and with it came lightness to my limbs. The pain and the ache in my muscles dissolved until all that was left was a heady feeling, a feeling of warmth. Then my eyelids fluttered as that warmth began to travel south between my legs. A whimper left my throat at the tension building at the apex of my thighs.

“Miss?” the chiri called gently. I slowly opened my eyes, feeling a blush on my cheeks. She stood beside me, holding out a soft, plush towel. Rising from the tub, I let her wrap me in the towel, not questioning why. I knew I never asked why. There was no explanation of anything in my life.

The chiri guided me to a chair. A large full-length mirror sat before me, and I stared at the female looking back. Blue eyes, dark hair, cheeks flushed with pink. She was slim and fairly tall. Her skin was a light olive color.

I stared and stared, numbed by the effects of the needle as the chiri fixed my waist-length hair and made up my face with powders and creams. I stood when she guided me to stand, then let her drape me in a long silken red dress, the floor-length material held together by two straps fastened with silver clasps at the shoulders. A large slit sat on either leg, showing the now glistening, fragrantly oiled skin beneath. I rocked on my feet as the ache between my legs increased. I clenched my thighs together, searching for release, but none came.