The Dragon Master's Pleasure Slave

Margot

"Daddy, please don't do this."

My father ignores my pleas and shrugs off my hand, grimacing and brushing his sleeve as if my fingers have dirtied him. The one man in my life who is supposed to love and protect me no matter what has betrayed me. Again.

My father pushes me out of the SUV's open door. I fall to my knees on the dirt road in front of a huge warehouse. I glimpse the busted-out, cracked windows lined with brown paper bags. My heart pounds, and my vision swims. This can't be happening. He yanks me to my feet. "Get the fuck up."

There's nothing. No sign, no cars, no people. And no lights other than the full moon and a single red light above the door.

His grip pushes the thin gold bracelet deep into my wrist. I've worn it for the past five years. Ever since I was thirteen-when I was supposed to get my dragon. It's kept me from reaching her ever since. I don't even know if I can, if I even have a dragon. I've read that some people born to dragon shifters never get their dragon because our genes aren't strong enough anymore.

"Please," I whisper. "Why does it have to be me?"

He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me close to speak into my ear. "Keep your mouth shut."

I already know the answer. It's because I remind him too much of my mother. My stepmother and her daughters have taken any scraps of love my father might have had for me and used them all up. Just like they've used up all of his wealth. I'm not the one who's put him in debt, but I'm the one he's going to sell to get out of it.

Dragons are supposed to be possessive, to protect and hoard their belongings. But it's clear my father didn't get that gene when it came to me.

As soon as I turned eighteen, my father announced he was selling me.

At the enormous metal door, he knocks. A small window slides open.

"Name?" comes a male voice from inside.

"Winston Brummel."

The window snaps shut, and the door opens toward us. My father yanks me in behind him.

A skinny man with tattoos up his neck and slicked-back dark hair sits behind a podium. I catch of a glimpse of his dragon in his eyes as he looks me over and his pupils turn to vertical slits. He has a little black notebook in his hand and turns to my father. "Item number Fifty-Two," my father says.

The man eyes the bruises on my arm, makes a notation in his little black book, and motions my father to head down a long, dark hallway. It opens into a large room that takes my breath away.

Sparkling crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, and bottles of fancy-looking liquor line the mirrored back bar in the corner. Barely dressed women are making drinks for men in expensive tuxedos.

Opposite us is a large stage in front of rows of plush loveseats, high-back chairs, and assorted couches.

I've always known my father was rich-most dragons are-but this is more than I could have imagined.

An older man walks up, leering at me as a server passes by with drinks on a black acrylic tray. The man reaches out and grabs her ass, but she doesn't so much as glance our way, just continues walking as if

his assault is expected.

He has a thin black line of mustache and a balding head that shines under the lights. I shudder as he flicks his tongue out at me repeatedly like a snake trying to taste its prey.

I haven't been around humans

much. This man looks...weak, is the

only way I can describe him. But also like he's used to getting whatever he wants. However he wants it. He's wealthy, like my father,

and the men he invites to our home.

"I heard you were bringing a treat to the auction tonight, and you didn't disappoint, Winston. This one looks delightful." The man licks his thin lips and scans the bruises on my arms, souvenirs from my stepmother and half-sisters. "She even looks a little broken in, too. Just like I prefer them. How do you make the marks stay, though? She is of your kind, isn't she?"

I don't want this man to like me, and I try to step behind my father even though I know he'll offer no protection. The man reaches out to stroke a chilly finger along my arm.

Not surprisingly, Father lets him. He grins.

"She's definitely of my kind." He lifts my arm to show off my bracelet. "Hexed gold with a dragon slayer's blood in the core. She's powerless to access her dragon." Klaus looks intrigued. "Can she remove it?"

My father snorts. "Not a chance. It's permanent, and I killed the witch who placed it to be doubly sure."

Klaus swipes his tongue over his lips. "Any restrictions on the merchandise?"

"None. Once it's sold, I never want to see or hear about it again. Do what you please. No returns, of course."

"Of course," Klaus coos. "So, I can dispose of it in any means I desire. That's promising."

The blood rushes out of my head, and the room starts spinning. I knew I was being auctioned off to become a rich man's sex slave, but this is worse.

Anyone who buys me can do whatever they want with me.

Even kill me.

For years, I've yearned to be free of my father's rage and the abuse from his beloved second family... but not like this.

"You never want to see it again? Did I hear you correctly, Brummel?"

A new voice. Deep, dripping with chocolate and honey and savage, almost like a growl.

Unexpected warmth rushes through me and stirs low in my belly.

The gold bracelet burns me. I have practice holding back my cries when I'm being hurt, but I've never felt a pain like this.

This man swivels to look at the sound of my tiny whimper. His blue eyes pierce mine.

Another slow roll of sensation centers between my thighs. Fresh pain stings me, but this time, a pleasure echoes with it. I barely suppress a moan that I can't tell is of fear...or something else. This man is more dangerous than Klaus.