Dangerous Games

If Gautier would let me.

The meals came, brought into the room by women who moved with the silence of ghosts and who looked just as pale. Not that they were ghosts—with my growing affinity to the dead, I would have felt that—but all the same, there seemed to be very little life in their eyes or expressions. Perhaps Kingsley had sucked all the energy and life from them.

Everyone but Gautier ate, drank, and made more small talk as the plates of food came and went. Jin was right in one thing—the food here was amazing.

As the night wore on, my head grew sort of fuzzy, in that warm, had-too-much-to-drink-and-now-way-too-loose sort of way. I actually stopped drinking wine after the entree, but my head didn't get any clearer. It felt odd, like I was there but not there. A watcher standing outside my own body, aware of events but not really a part of them. Even the fear of Gautier and what he was up to seemed to slide away.

Somewhere deep inside, alarm grew, but I didn't even have the energy to wrest it to the foreground for a thorough examination. It was just too much hassle. Everything was too much hassle, except sitting here enjoying.

Dessert—a mass of fudgy chocolate cake that was almost as good as an orgasm—came and went, then coffee was served. It wasn't hazelnut, but it was top shelf and absolutely divine.

Which left us with the after-di

"Shall we move on to the main entertainment?"

"Oh, please do," Jan said, her voice breathy with excitement.

Marcus gave her a hug, and my stomach stirred. Maybe eating all that chocolate cake was a bad idea. Not if the entertainment was what I was begi

Kingsley walked across the room to a second set of doors I hadn't noticed before now and pushed them open. The room beyond, like this one, was ill lit, but filled with looming shadows and the sharp smell of blood and fear and death.

Jin held out his hand as Kingsley disappeared into gloom. My hesitation was brief, but nevertheless there, and part of me was mighty glad of that. At least it meant I wasn't so far gone that I'd walk into trouble without thought, without fear. Not that either would do a whole lot at this point in time.

Two by two, we walked into the room. A light clicked on down the far end, throwing pale light across the darkly stained wooden machinery filling the room. It was another goddamn torture chamber. Like before, there were rough wooden racks, chains attached to cuffs dangling from the ceiling, a huge wooden wheel straddling a deep water trough, and rough ropes attached to wall rings. But there were other machines here, truly nasty-looking ones, like metal chambers filled with spikes and other, even more deadly-looking things.

This time, I stared at them with a more dispassionate eye. Horror was there, but it was a distant thing, held back by a wall of detachment. It was odd, this feeling of being here and yet not here, and yet part of me was glad. If not for the distance, I might be tempted to run screaming from the room.

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 di

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 touch, 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 touch 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 do

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.