My Masters' Nightmare, Season 1 / Episode 13 (4 page)

Pushing out of my chair,
I went to him,
gently slipping his pillow out from under his head. He didn’t wake,
not even a twitch. I raised the pillow over his face, knowing I
could kill him without anyone finding out. The soldiers trusted me,
probably because I’d risked my life for him. We also slept in the
same bed, the
Padre
not bothering to cuff me. For some reason he also trusted
me. He thought I was an angel, often telling me I was beautiful.
And his expression when he looked at me … he truly cared for me.
Not many people cared for me. Frano and Jagger did, but that was
it, unless I counted my dead mother. Plus, they were family, so
they were obliged to love me. Instead, I wanted someone who loved
me for me, not because I was their cousin, brother, or son. I’d
never had that before. All the men who had come to me when I was a
prostitute hadn’t cared about me. They only wanted to feel good,
not to make me feel good. But the
Padre
… he genuinely wanted me to enjoy being
with him, and to my shame, I did. I liked his body. He was nothing
but muscle, a big hulk of a man. His body truly excited me. I even
liked his strange cock, because it brought me pleasure, not pain,
unlike my customers and Alberto. Alberto had been so cruel. He’d
never loosened me, just shoved his cock inside of me, ignoring my
crying. The
Padre
in comparison usually warmed me up. He often kissed me
while he did it, murmuring words of love and desire.

I
retracted the pillow, knowing I
couldn’t kill him. Not only because I wasn’t a murderer, but
because…

I turned away from him, upset
that I actually cared for the man. I barely knew him, but in the
short time we’d been together, I’d started to grow attached to him.
It wasn’t love, just an attraction … and a sick one, because he was
an evil and crazy man. He often talked to the Devil as well as
people who weren’t there. Though, if truth be told, it didn’t
really bother me, because my mother had been like that, the drugs
she took making her hallucinate. Instead, the only time I got
scared with him
was when he got jealous. He truly terrified me then,
because his face turned nasty, his pale eyes so vicious. In those
moments, I knew he was capable of beating me. He hadn’t done it
yet, just spanked me. But at least the spanking wasn’t bad, since
it turned me on.

Dieu!
I was sick.

I turned back to him, my eyes
going to his face. Why did he have
such a nice looking face? An evil man
shouldn’t look like him. He wasn’t picture perfect like Matteo or
Frano. His features were a bit rough, plus he had wrinkles around
his eyes as well as dark rings under them. It spoke of sleepless
nights, the man an insomniac. But despite all of that, he was still
handsome and his blue eyes drew me in, their pale color striking.
It was what I had latched onto when we had sex for the first
time—his looks. I’d also gone to bed with him willing myself to
think of him as a client. But my clients had never treated my body
like he had. The way he touched me, kissed me, entered me … it felt
good. He actually cared how I felt during sex, often performing
sexual acts on me that would bring me to completion. I could tell
he was genuinely thrilled when I came under his touch. Maybe it was
because the men he’d been with hadn’t reacted to him as I had.
Jagger didn’t like his touch, nor did Matteo. But then again,
Jagger wasn’t gay and Matteo hated the
Padre
’s personality. Matteo and the Padre were
like fire and petrol, because when they came together, explosions
always followed. I wished the
Padre
would just stay away from Matteo, because it was
wrong the way he looked at his nephew with lust. I didn’t like it.
I wanted him to only look at me that way.

I breathed out, realizing I was
jealous of Matteo,
which was wrong on so many levels, especially after what
the
Padre
had done to him. When they’d first captured me, I had only
been focused on Matteo, the man beyond handsome. But now, all I
wanted was for Matteo to go away so I could have the
Padre
all to
myself
.
Which was sick, and something I had to stop before it
turned into more than attraction … more than a crush … before it
fell into the world of obsession and love.

I
lifted the pillow again, willing
myself to kill him. I wanted to have a good man, not a devil.
The
Padre
called Matteo a demon, but Matteo wasn’t. He had a wicked
sense of humor, but he never hurt people unless they attacked
him—unlike the
Padre
, who
had hurt innocents.

I lowered the pillow over his
face, but stopped an inch away from it, again unable to kill him. I
should kill the monster for my brother. By doing nothing I was
betraying Jagger. Still, maybe I could help Jagger in another way.
Maybe I could make the
Padre
only want me so he would leave my brother alone.
It wouldn’t be so bad. I actually looked forward to him coming to
bed: to his touch, to his kisses, to the incredible way he called
me his angel, saying how beautiful and pure I was, even though I
wasn’t. I’d been tainted for so long, had nothing but disgusting
hands touch me, use me… He used me, that was true, but in a way I
enjoyed—wanted.

Guilt hit me. I deserved to
burn in Hell
for thinking that. I hadn’t intended on enjoying it. I
never got attached to a client … but the
Padre
wasn’t a client, he was my master. I’d
never thought about what it would feel like for the slaves back at
home. I had just assumed it was like my life at the brothel, since
we didn’t have a choice who fucked us. But it
wasn’t
the same, because, although I didn’t
have control of my body at the brothel, I wasn’t owned by anyone. I
could also leave whenever I wanted to—unlike now, the soldier
outside the door proving that.

But
where would I go to if I escaped
the
Padre
? I had no partner back home. Although I idolized Frano, I
could never be with him. He might not be blood, since he had a
different father from Alberto, but it was still wrong to have a
relationship with him. It was also impossible since he wasn’t gay,
plus he considered me a relative. And the only other person I’d had
a crush on was Matteo … and he was a cruel bastard, who constantly
taunted me every time he passed by. Even worse, he did it to
provoke the
Padre
, because I could tell he had no interest in me. Matteo
liked highly masculine men, which was obvious with the way he
drooled over that muscular soldier he’d captured as well as
Alessandro. Which meant I didn’t have a chance with him; and after
being fawned over by the
Padre
,
I no longer cared. And right now, if I had to choose
between them, it would be the
Padre.

I swore, knowing my head wasn’t
right
. This
man had ruined lives, in particular my brother’s. I lowered the
pillow for a third time, willing myself to suffocate
him…

But I couldn’t do it!

I threw the pillow at the wall, screaming
out in rage. The door opened, stilling me. One of the Donatelli
soldiers poked his head inside. “Why are you making noise?” he
barked.

“
I-I’m upset t-the
Padre
is hurt,” I
stammered out, the man scaring me. He reminded me of Alberto with
his fat stomach and apish face, not to mention he always leered at
me. I wished they had put one of the other soldiers on the
door—anyone but him.

The soldier grinned, his
dark eyes nasty.
“You should be,
fenucca
, because if he dies, you die too.” His grin widened. “But
only after I fuck your girlish cunt.”

I blanched, knowing he meant
it
.

He closed the door, his
laughter still reaching me. I turned to the
Padre
, now having an even bigger reason
not to kill him. I pulled up the sheet to his chin, then went and
sat down on the chair, my fear growing by the second. Although
the
Padre
’s wound wasn’t dire, he could still die from other things.
After all, he was in his mid-forties.

Noise came from the
passageway
,
then the door swung open. The doctor who’d patched up the
Padre
walked into the
room. His hair and eyes were gray while he had a haughty
expression, which turned to disdain whenever he looked at
the
Padre
. Although he didn’t appear to like the
Padre
, he was close to Christo, the two
having embraced each other like long lost brothers. Though, I
didn’t think they were, since they looked nothing alike. The doctor
had more refined features, which looked aristocratic, while Christo
was a hard-looking man, much more so than his twin.

The doctor stopped in front of me. “I
didn’t have time to ask before, but do you know who I
am?”

I shook my head, never having seen him
before.

“
Good, and if you tell anyone
about me helping the
Padre
, I
will
kill you and everyone you love. So, purge me from
your memory.”

My eyes widened. “I won’t say a
word.”

“
Bene.
Now, you and the
Padre
need to leave the island.”

“
Where will we be
going?”

“
Russia.”

“
Why there?”

“
The Black Russian has agreed to
accommodate you.”

My eyes widened. “No, no, you
can’t send me to
him; he has a vendetta against my family.”

“
He has no vendetta against you,
only the D’Angelo Don.”

“
But he’s a sex
fiend.”

The doctor laughed. “And
the
Padre
isn’t?”

“
The Black Russian is worse.
I’ve heard horror stories about him. He drinks his lovers’ blood
like a vampire and tortures them.”

“
The drinking of blood is a
myth.”

“
And the
torture?”

“
Unfortunately, that’s
real.”

“
Th-then do-don’t send me
there.”

“
Truly, there’s no need to
worry. The Black Russian respects ownership rights. He will not
touch you unless the
Padre
gives him permission, and from what I’ve been
told, the
Padre
rarely shares his lovers. Now, I have a question for you.
Christo noticed that the soldier guarding your door was looking at
you in a sexual manner earlier. Has the man threatened
you?”

I nodded. “He said he’d fuck me
before killing me if the
Padre
dies. He also won’t stop leering at
me.”

“
I
can make that stop.” He opened the
door, his gaze landing on the soldier. “Please come
inside.”

The soldier walked in, his face impassive,
which it usually was when someone else was around.

The doctor walked to the
wooden cabinet and
pulled out a syringe. “Take a hold of the boy,” he said without
looking at the soldier.

The soldier grabbed me, making me shriek.
He pulled me to his body and wrapped his arms around me, locking me
in place.

The doctor walked towards me, holding
the syringe out. “Do you know what’s in here?”

Terrified, I shook my head.

“
It’s something that kills
within seconds.” His gaze moved to the soldier. “Hold out his right
arm.”

The soldier forced my arm out. I screamed
and tried to retract it, not understanding why the doctor wanted to
kill me. He’d just told me I was going to Russia, yet here he was
aiming the needle at my arm. He stopped a millimeter away from my
flesh and gave me a smile, then in the blink of an eye he pushed
the needle into the soldier’s arm, making the man yell out. The
soldier let go of me and went to remove the needle, but instead
stumbled backwards. I spun around as he collapsed to the floor,
dead before he hit it.

“
People are so easy to
kill, but harder to save,” the doctor said.

I turned ba
ck to him, absolutely shocked
at what he’d done. “Why did you kill him?” I asked, barely getting
it out.

“
Christo told all his soldiers
they would be killed if they even thought about touching what
belonged to his brother.” The doctor threw the needle into the
rubbish bin, then opened the door. “I need two soldiers to clean up
a mess I’ve made.”

Seconds later, two Donatelli
soldiers walked i
nto the room. They stopped in their tracks at the sight of
their dead colleague.

The doctor smiled at
them
. “He
had a terminal case of lusting after the
Padre
’s slave. Do any of you have those
symptoms?”