Dangerous Games (Riley Jenson Guardian #4)(50)

Or would I? Truth was, I wanted to do my job. Wanted these freaks stopped for all eternity.
It was the only clear, unfuzzed thought in the whole foggy mess that was the current state of my brain.
Kingsley appeared out of the gloom. He’d taken off his dinner jacket and loosened his tie, and the lusty tension filling the room sharpened abruptly, hitting my senses like a hammer and making my knees weak.
Jin’s hands slipped around my waist, pulling me back against him. His breath was heated, rapid against my neck, his thick erection pressing hard into my butt. 
Kingsley stopped in front of Jan, raising a hand and gently caressing her cheek. She shuddered under his touch, and the scent of desire and need swirled around us, sharp and tantalizing in the heavy air. My breathing quickened in response, and Jin’s soft chuckle stirred my hair.
“Soon,” he whispered. “Soon.”
“Do you understand the reason you are here?” Kingsley trailed a hand down Jan’s neck and began to undo her shirt.
She pushed into his hand, offering her small breasts to his touch and his gaze. “It’s a test,” she said.
“A test, not an end. Do you understand that?” He finished undoing her buttons, and pushed her shirt aside, exposing her breasts but not touching them himself.
“Yes,” she all but whimpered, her desperation for his caress very evident in her voice. But she didn’t move. I wondered vaguely what held her in place—fear, or something in Kingsley’s eyes? Something I couldn’t see from where I stood?
“Then choose your machine.”
Her gaze darted around the room, and came to rest on the smallest of the wooden machines. “The barrel. I choose the barrel.”
“Ah, a good choice.” Kingsley’s gaze shifted to Marcus. “You know what to do.”
The big man nodded, and led Jan across to the barrel that was lined with tiny wooden spikes. Gautier pulled Raven close to his body, and began playing with her breasts in a way that looked crude and painful. I gulped and forced my gaze away. I couldn’t handle a sexual Gautier. It just wasn’t right.
Kingsley walked across to where Jin and I stood. He stopped to our left, watching us rather than his so-called show. The thick, raw scent of him wrapped around us like a blanket, making me sweat, shake.
Want.
“Do you know what is about to happen?”
“Yes.” My answer was soft, breathy. Part of me hoped it was fear, but mostly I knew it was excitement.
“And are you aroused by the thought?”
“I’m aroused by Jin. Aroused by you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I think you lie.”
“No.”
“Then shall we watch and see?” His words held a touch of command, and I battled them instinctively.
“No.”
Amusement touched his lips. “You’re right, Jin. This one is strong. A very good choice indeed.”
“Thank you,” Jin said, as he slid his hands from my waist to my breasts to my shoulders.
A quiver of anticipation ran across my skin as he began to slide the straps down my shoulders.
“Watch,” Kingsley ordered, and this time I had no choice.
Jan had stripped and stretched her body across the barrel. Marcus had tied her limbs to rings set in the floor, stretching her arms and legs wide and pressing her stomach down against the tiny spikes. As yet, they hadn’t broken skin, because I couldn’t see or smell blood, but it obviously wouldn’t take much more pressure to do so.
Marcus began to strip, and even in my detached state, I could find nothing truly beautiful about him. He was just a man, all sinew and big bones, with a regular old dick. Not that I minded regular old dicks if the packaging around them was decent enough.
The sound of a hand slapping sharply against flesh made me jump a little. I blinked, and realized that somewhere along the line, Marcus had donned a leather glove on his right hand. From each gloved fingertip extended barbed strips of leather. As he slapped Jan’s back, the force of his blows pressed her stomach down against the spikes and the little strips lashed out, striking her shoulders with some force.
It wasn’t very long at all before her already scarred back became a raw and bloody mess, but her breaths were short, shuddery gasps of pleasure, and the air was thick and heavy with the scent of her blood and her need.And it wasn’t only hers.
The sharp smell of Raven’s arousal spun through the air, filled with desperation and need. As much as it sickened me to think she was enjoying the show and Gautier, the scent only served to fuel my own to greater heights.
Jin’s fingertips slid down my arms, taking the dress straps with them, and the dress itself was soon a puddle of green silk at my feet. He took my purse and tossed it off to one side, then slid his fingers up my stomach and firmly grasped my engorged nipples. He pinched them, hard, and the jolt that ran through me was all pleasure. For a wolf in the midst of moon heat, any touch could be pleasurable. And right now, despite the situation, despite my odd detachment—or maybe because of it—I just wanted his caress, be it hard or soft.
“Watch,” Kingsley intoned, his voice seeming to echo, as if it had come from a very great distance.
Marcus was no longer just hitting her. He was between her legs and fucking her, thrusting hard and deep as she twisted, screamed, and, eventually, came. She went limp against the barrel, but the big man didn’t stop, pounding and pounding and pounding his body into hers.
And my muscles were jumping, my skin quivering, as if it was me down there, and I wanted, so wanted, the release that hovered so close and yet so far.
But then Marcus came and the quivering stopped, and it was all I could do not to scream in frustration.
Kingsley laughed softly. “I think this one is ready to do more than just watch.”
Jin was still pinching, still teasing. “Yes,” he said, his voice a husky drawl near my ear. “She’s more than ready.”
“Then prepare her.” He reached out, caressing my cheek. “Gautier, you may continue your pleasures with Raven on whatever machine you choose.”
The woman’s thick moan of pleasure followed me out of the room. I was glad I could no longer see Gautier, but I could feel his gaze on me, long after we’d left the room.
We passed through another doorway filled with the feel of resisting power, and into a small square room. In it was a set of standard wooden medieval stocks, though this one had an odd, stomach-height wooden bar set about two feet out from the stocks themselves. There was nothing else in the room. Nothing living or inanimate, anyway.
There were wisps of smoke that stirred in dark corners, and I swear they whispered of horrors I could only hope never to experience.
Fear rose briefly, and I stumbled. Just for a moment, the fog dissipated and clarity of thought made a brief appearance. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. I had to get out of here. Had to.
I wrenched my arm from Jin’s grasp and spun around, one foot lashing out, kicking him hard in the gut. Dragon or not, he was still wrapped in human flesh, and the human went down with a huge gasp for air. 
But he wasn’t down for long enough.
As I ran for the door, he lunged forward, grabbing my heel and yanking hard. I came down face-first, and my chin split open on the cold tiles. Blood sprayed, and pain exploded. I swore and twisted, kicking him in the head, trying to get him to release me. I had the strength of a were and a vampire behind me, but it didn’t seem to be making a whole lot of difference. Inch by bloody inch, I was being drawn inexorably toward him.
I swore again and pushed into a sitting position, lurching for one of his fingers and yanking it backward brutally. Bone snapped and he screamed—a sound filled with fury and pain and desire.
He hit me with his free hand, the blow landing hard and snapping my head backward. I hit the tiles a second time, and for several seconds I saw stars.
By then he was on me, his weight pinning me, his legs pushing mine apart as he grabbed my wrists and held them above my head. “I thought you didn’t like it too rough,” he said, his hand between us, yanking at the zip on his pants.
I struggled against him, but when he thrust deep inside, I couldn’t help the tremor of pleasure. The moon was high, the fever raged, and I wanted sex. Any sex. Even his.
But I wasn’t so far gone that I’d let pleasure overwhelm the need for safety.
“Rough is one thing. Force is another.”
I somehow managed to buck my body, threw him off me, then scrambled to my feet and ran again for the door. Straight into the warm and naked body of John Kingsley.
It was like hitting a steel wall, and I rebounded off him with a gasp. Before I could recover my balance, he lashed out with one hand, hitting my bloody chin and throwing me across the room. I hit the wall with a grunt and slithered to the floor.
“Enough,” he said. “You will fight no more.”
I wanted to, desperately wanted to, but it was as if someone had pulled the plug on the sink that was my anger and desperation. It all just floated away, and the odd detachment came back full force.
“Jin, place her in the stocks.”
He picked himself up off the floor, then roughly grabbed my arm and yanked me upright. Without ceremony, and with very little care, he thrust me toward the wooden stocks. The reason for the stomach-height bar soon became evident. I was made to lean over it, and then my head and arms were placed securely locked into the stocks and my spread legs chained to either leg of the stomach rest. It was a position that was uncomfortable, a position that left me open for invasion, a position that stretched every muscle to its limit, and one that would soon have me screaming in pain.