The silence stretches and then keeps stretching, the threat lying heavy in the air. No one makes a sound. Reaper curses softly. “So be it. Our lovely Ruby Belmonte goes to the Mad Wolf. Good luck, love. You’re going to need it.”

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11

I’m led off the stage in the opposite direction that I walked on. I can’t help lingering there, wanting to see what will come out next. It turns out to be another woman, this one petite and blond—and naked. Hopefully she gets a better rate than the brunette.

“Ms. Belmonte? Please follow me.”

I allow yet another staff member to gently take my elbow and guide me away. With each step, the truth hits me again and again.

Wolf was here. He won.

Was he wearing the mask when he did it? Or do all the other attendees know what I don’t—what he really looks like? Reaper certainly seemed to know who he was.

The Mad Wolf.

That name tickles some memory in the deep recesses of my mind, but the recollection slips away when I try to grasp it. All I know is that I’ve heard the name before, a long time ago. He’s not from Carver City—that much I’m sure of. If he were, I would have registered that nickname.

My guide takes me back to my dressing room, where I wait impatiently for the funds to clear. It seems to take forever, but I suspect is a very short time indeed. I’m still pacing in circles when they reappear.

They smile. “Everything is finalized. Please follow me to the room chosen for you.”

Within a few minutes, I’m led through the warren of hallways to a luxurious bedroom that puts the one I spent the day in to shame.

And it’s fully kitted out.

I step through the door and look around. I may avoid the Underworld like the plague, but I’m familiar with the equipment and toys that go along with some flavors of BDSM. This room has a significant number of them.

There’s an open trunk that displays crops, floggers, and paddles in every shape and weight. The four-poster bed has rings embedded in it at different heights, the better to bind someone to. There’s a rainbow of Shibari ropes and three different kinds of padded cuffs. That’s not even getting into the spreader bar, the spanking bench, or the seat that very much looks like a throne.

I cross the room, look through a door, and find a bathroom fit for royalty, all dark glossy tile with more showerheads than any shower actually needs.

“Damn, y’all really go all out.”

“Ms. Belmonte.”

I turn to my escort, belatedly realizing that they were waiting for me to acknowledge them so they can leave. I try for a smile, but I’m too overwhelmed to fully swing it. “Sorry. I got a little wowed. What do you need from me?”

“Nothing, miss.” They smile. “I just want to reiterate: once you leave the premises, you are agreeing to hold the auction harmless in any damages that result in the events that follow.”

Damages. They would see it like that, but I can’t exactly fault them. I’m here of my own free will, and I knew exactly what Wolf was capable of when I boarded that plane.

When I fucked him.

When I came all over his fingers with a dead body at our feet.

“I understand.”

“Good.” Another person hurries in, faintly out of breath. They whisper in my escort’s ear and then press a box into the other’s hands. My escort frowns. “This is highly irregular, but the Mad Wolf would like you to have this while you wait.”

There’s nothing to do but accept the box. I almost laugh at myself. As if I’m not frothing at the mouth to see what he’s sent along ahead of himself. “Thank you.”

“Good luck.”

Before I can ask why everyone keeps saying that to me, they’re gone, closing the door softly behind them. It’s just as well. For better or worse, I mostly know what I’ve gotten myself into. I hope.

I walk to the bed and set the box on it. It’s about the size of a shoebox and made of heavy wood, but aside from being polished to the point where I can see my reflection on its surface, there’s nothing notable about it.

I’m stalling.

I tug on my ring, relishing the little spike of pain I get in response. Strictly speaking, I’m not a masochist, but I can’t deny that a little pain adds a fun element of spice to normal sex. If my parents weren’t who they are, I probably would have found my way through the Underworld’s doors before now.

“Stop stalling.” I flip open the lid before I can talk myself out of it. There’s a flat black surface with a thick note card on it.

I want you naked and kneeling when I come for you. Wear this.

“Well, there’s one thing Wolf consistently has—audacity.” I flip up the secondary lid, and my mouth goes dry. It’s not the blindfold that makes my stomach erupt into butterflies.

It’s the collar.

I lift it carefully, shooting a nervous look at the door. I know what a collar means when it comes to BDSM. It’s a claim, a sign marking consent of ownership, of submission. This collar is gorgeous, more jewelry than utility. It’s a choker that drips rubies in various lengths. I hold it up to my neck and shiver. The pattern will frame my bare breasts and shoulders when I put it on.

I’m nervous for sure, but nervousness can be a good thing. I lick my lips. “Okay, I can do this.” The question is whether I obey or start pushing boundaries immediately. I look around again. “If you’re going to play this way, then we need a damn negotiation first.” A safe word, though the very concept seems almost laughable after what we’ve already done.

No, damn it. I don’t have to keep being reckless just because I started out that way. Wolf is familiar enough with kink to offer me this collar, so he can damn well sit through a conversation before we cross yet another line that we can’t uncross.

I carefully set the collar back in the box but don’t close it. Then I return the blindfold to its place.

And sit down to wait.

There’s no clock in this room, but I wait long enough that I’m heartily glad for the en suite bathroom. It has a whole treasure trove of goodies too. The tiled walls of the shower also contain sturdy anchors for bondage games. Under the sink, I find enough industrial-strength cleaners to make me laugh. As if there were any doubts about what went on in this room.

In my snooping, I find a drawer full of a dozen different kinds of lube, and another with a wide selection of dildos and vibrators. Truly, it’s a kinky wonderland.

I finally end up in the large chair. It’s more comfortable than I’d expected and wide enough to accommodate a number of body types, with extra room so someone could slip their knees on either side as they ride . . .

The door opens softly, moving slowly enough that I’m half-sure I’ve fallen asleep and am dreaming. But then he’s there, filling the doorway, his skull mask the only thing light about him.

Wolf.

He steps into the room and closes the door behind him, just as softly, just as slowly. There’s a faint click as he locks it, and then he crosses his arms over his chest. “I should have known you wouldn’t obey.”

“You haven’t earned obedience.”

He laughs dryly. “I just paid a million dollars for you, Red. I think I’ve earned plenty.”

“Oh, that?” I don’t lean forward, forcing my body to stay relaxed. “I thought that was for everyone else’s benefit.”

“In part.” He doesn’t move. “But it’s currently sitting in your bank account, so take off that fucking dress and get on your knees.”

My pussy pulses in response to the rough words. “Take off the mask.”

“Not yet.”

There’s no room for argument in his voice, so I change tactics. “You offered me a collar. You understand what it means?”

“It means you’re mine.” Still, he doesn’t move.

I am. I bite back the words before they can slip past my lips. He’s too sure of me. He has reason to be, but that doesn’t mean I’m not capable of digging in my heels over this. “I want a safe word. I want you to promise to respect it.”