The Dark Prince (The Dark Prince Trilogy #1) Page 2

  Moving, he stood, walking to the other girl. She pulled herself inward more, trying to become invisible. She wanted to be dead. She was like a scared kitten, and the man couldn’t stop from reaching out, gently moving most of her long hair from the side of her face. She refused to look his way, even as she flinched from his touch. His fingers were warm against her cold skin. She held in a whimper as his fingertips grazed her discolored boney cheek.

  She had not been in this building for more than a week, but she was freezing. She couldn’t name the last time she had something to eat, let alone really slept. Her last place she was at wasn’t bad, but the food was not something she got often as the woman of the house didn’t think the workers needed food to keep going.

  The girl was still unsure on why she was kicked out once again and dropped off here. She didn’t think she did anything to break the many rules that were in place, but she assumed that just not talking was the deal breaker. She somehow always ended back here in a place like this, held against her will time after time.

  She couldn’t remember her mother very well, but she must had been so horrible that they didn’t want her then either. No one wanted her. At least not for very long. Other than Nick, but he only wanted her body, and he wasn’t the only one. He had made a promise that he’d have her again before long.

  It didn’t help that the man had figured out exactly who the dark haired girl was. She was someone he met a time or two before and she should have been treated better than a plaything.

  The man sighed, pulling back his hand before standing. He knew what he had to do. It would be a lot of work, but thinking through it all, it would be well worth it. At least his sober thoughts were similar to his drunken ones. He wanted to beat the man within an inch of his life for what he had done to these girls. His time was coming to an end. And soon.

  Chapter 2

  With two light brown folders filled with information, the man steered two of the girls to the car before opening the back door and motioning them both in. The younger one went first with the second girl debating for a moment before doing the same.

  He chose to leave both of them untied, knowing they wouldn’t be able to do anything. They were both scared but knew they would be going through another place like Hell. What choice did they have in their lives?

  “He doesn’t seem too bad,” the younger one said quietly, looking around the car and finding that both back doors were locked and could only be opened from the outside. They had no way of escaping. Of course, even if either of them tried and got out of this car, it was a good possibility that they would be shot in the back. She had seen the gun the man had hidden as his shirt rode up when he leaned down to look at his selections.

  The other girl pulled her knees up, dirty feet resting on the edge of the leather seat. Thinking to herself, just another man with more money than he knew what to do with would be her handler once again. It wasn’t the first time a wealthy man wanted her. She had a good idea on what the man wanted and tried to suppress her shudders at the thought.

  She had missed having a mother figure in her life, and because she couldn't remember her real mom, her step-mom was the best thing she’d ever had. She had been able to learn to read and write like the other children since she was able to go to public school. But it didn’t last.

  The very first person she had gone to at the age of nine probably would have kept her if an angry man had not shown up and demand that she be gone from his sight. That man’s voice still had sent a cold chill down her spine two weeks later. That house wasn’t bad considering where she had been. She had a warm cot to sleep on with along with the other workers and had plenty of food. She was actually treated as a person there, not just an object to be passed around from one place to another.

  The next place she could remember being taken to, she had been a maid and sitter for the children of the small home, taking care of little tasks at the age of ten. It wasn’t all bad. The man of the house hated her but didn’t kick her out because of that. The woman was loving, and almost motherly. She tried to raise the brown haired girl as her own, helping her to learn tasks to keep herself afloat and out of trouble.

  The two boys she had been tasked to watch were only a year or two younger than her, and made her task difficult most days.

  At the age of twelve, she was sold to a man who treated her slightly better, but not by much. She had a bed, warm food, and clean clothes. But she was still treated as a slave, an object that could be replaced at any time. There, she was able to continue on her education, along with some advice on how to live the life she was forced into.

  When she turned thirteen, she was handed over to a much rougher household where she often went without food or proper sleep to keep the house and garden area perfect. The woman wanted everything a certain way, and wouldn’t hesitate to slap the girl for simple mistakes. She could still remember the first time she had a broken rib.

  That was about the time that she stopped talking, as she never could get her tongue to work due to fear of saying something wrong anyway. There was no longer a point for her to talk, so she did her tasks, just trying to hide when the woman was around.

  The next place wasn’t any better. The man that took her next was barely an adult himself when she was fifteen. He wanted a slut to spread her legs anytime he wanted, so that was what she became, losing what little was left of herself. He didn't hit her too much, for the most part. But when he was drunk he spat words that built her walls up with bricks. He’d punish her by taking away food if she didn’t satisfy him well enough.

  Soon, he grew tired of her and shipped her back to the compound. There, she was in and out of homes constantly, not able to be dealt with by whoever had taken her. She refused to speak but tried to please everyone the best she could. She'd endure the abuse, lack of food, and kept on living.

  Her days all began to bleed into each other; she no longer could keep track of what places she had been, or who she was property to.

  As the blond girl checked everything in the car, trying to figure out what she could possibly use to protect herself, she talked to the other girl who was lost in thought. Paying no mind if the other girl was paying attention. The skinny blonde girl talked when she was nervous. Always had, and that in turn got her own beatings time and time again.

  “I’m Clare, by the way,” she said, her voice quiet, knowing that the other girl wouldn’t answer. She had given up trying to find a way to get out of the car, even though she really hadn’t tried that hard.

  Clare made sure to tell the girl quietly that she had run away from her foster family because she was the normal teenager. She wasn't happy that she had to help around the house and keep her grades up. So, after being tired with being bossed around, she had ran away.

  There wasn’t much to tell, as this would be her second place. The first time, she was taken off the street, thinking she was going to go to a place that would offer shelter from the cold rainy night. But how wrong was she.

  The man, the same man that now was standing out there talking to their new handler. Nick Bashor had promised Clare that nothing would happen to her, but of course that was before he drugged her and took her to his own personal crappy house, forcing her to clean, cook, and be his pet. Even keeping her on a leash like one a number of times.

  He grew tired of her not three weeks ago, shoving her into the compound and took a new slave. She had been abused for over a year now, but still stood strong somehow. She would find a way out, even if she lost her life doing so.

  Clare wanted to let the other girl know she wouldn't be alone in this new place they would be going.

  Outside the car, Mr. Marcel leaned against the passenger side door, listening to Nick tell him about the girls. Not that he needed to hear it, but wanted to know who he was dealing with, and how to handle them.

  This wasn’t the first time he took a girl out of the holding compound, but it would be the first time he was going to bring this place down, along with anyone
working in it. He ran a hand through his crazy black brown hair, making it even crazier than it was.

  He'd also make sure that each girl that was in that filthy place that wasn’t fit for even a rat, would be taken care of. Each girl would be given a new name, a new place to live. They would learn that the world isn’t such a bad place.

  “The blond is great in bed. Of course I’ve had them both, but not together,” Nick said with an awkward laugh, his drug glazed eyes filled with lust. “The dark haired one won’t make a sound, even as I choked her today while draining my balls, she made no sound.” His voice turned more lustful and dreamlike.

  His package in his pants began to grow as he thought about how fulfilling it had been for him.

  Mr. Marcel was tempted to punch Nick for doing such a thing but restrained himself. He shoved his balled fists into his jacket pockets, as he had already thrown the folders on the front seat of the car after the girls sat down in the back. He was sure at least one was trying to find a way out, but he had already thought of that possibility. There was no escape.

  “I bet you plan to use both at one time, don’t ya?” Nick said, his high beginning to die off. He needed another hit soon. “Man, I wish I had gotten the chance to do so.”

  “Maybe,” Mr. Marcel said, pushing himself off the car and starting to head to the driver’s side. He needed to leave before his thoughts controlled his actions. “But are you to play with the merchandise here?”

  “Um, no sir,” Nick said, ducking his head and looking at his feet. He knew he had to pay for that little mishap, even though he thought it was well worth it at the time.

  It was a well-known rule that the man was not to touch the girls, unless it was to bring them for someone who came to look at them. A lot of buyers didn’t want some others man’s cum in their pussy. And from just looking at the bruises, Chase knew this was not the case. Nick has also roughed them up.

  “It’s a shame that you did,” Chase said, his voice a dark calm. His green eyes calculating.

  “I’m sorry, man,” Nick said, his high instantly dying off. “I . . .”

  He never got to finish what he was saying as Chase pulled out his gun, shooting Nick right in his forehead. He slowly fell face first into the dirt, blood leaking out of the bullet hole. The ground turned dark with liquid.

  The two girls inside the car couldn’t help but jump as the gun was shot, but Chase paid no mind to them as he slid the weapon back into its place and entered the car. Clare even squeaked loud enough for him to hear through the open door.

  Mr. Marcel shut the door softly behind him, being mindful that the girls were already frightened, and they didn’t need more to worry about. He couldn’t possibly know what either of them were thinking, as he never had been in their shoes, and didn’t want to be. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t understand what they might be thinking.

  Clare stayed quiet, but kept her wide pale eyes on him, watching the way he moved, trying to read him to know what would be expected. The other girl kept her face hidden, buried in her knees, trying to not cry. She was scared. Her life was nothing, and it wasn’t going to get any better.

  He hardly spared a glance through the rearview mirror at the two as he started the car and grabbed the two folders, quickly glancing at the names of the two before setting them back on the side seat. He noticed the blonde’s name was Clare Anne Scott, and the dark haired girl’s was named Summer Grace Meads.

  Knowing that the information he was given a week ago was incorrect just from what Nick had told him, the man wondered what else was a lie. How could he believe what information the folders held now?

  He stayed quiet, letting the two girls get their thoughts together and turned on the radio so low music played. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just drove back home. Killing meant nothing to him, but it did show the two girls that he wouldn’t put up with any attitude from either of them.

  Clare’s mind was buzzing. What did this man want with her? Why didn’t he say anything; explain what he wanted so she could prepare mentally? Summer let her silent tears leak onto her knees, not bothering to let her thoughts have free range. The man surely knew she wouldn’t talk, so she didn’t need to be bothered to answer for at least a while. Not that she would answer anyway.

  The man’s phone rang, breaking the thin silence, causing both girls to jump. Clare gave out another small squeak.

  “What?” the man growled, not in the mood to deal with a phone call. His thoughts were on the girls, and what he would be needing someone to pick up in the next few days for him.

  “Did you pick one?” his cousin asked excitedly. His voice was chipper, but he was always happy. Nothing much got him down. It had been his idea to do this in the first place, on where to find what he needed. Although, Mr. Marcel was sure that there was someone else behind his cousin’s hints.

  “Yep,” was all the man offered, his voice monotone.

  “You don’t sound happy about that,” the man on the phone said, a hint of worry to his voice.

  “Just thinking, Trent,” Chase stated. “I need to have a doctor come to check my selection.”

  “So, who’d you pick?” Trent asked, his voice cautious.

  “I got two, and I have no idea what I was thinking,” Mr. Marcel answered, sounding surprised and irate at the same time. “You always have horrible ideas.”

  “Wow!” Trent said, shocked. “I mean, I can understand one and all but two, really? Come on Chase. Spill it.”

  “Later,” he stated. “But for now, can Valerie pick up some clothes. Size small?”

  “Yep, of course,” Trent replied, already knowing his wife would do anything to help another girl out, even if they were connected to the man with a stick up his ass.

  “Thank you,” Chase said, almost in a sigh, before making a hasty end of the conversation and setting his phone in the cup holder.

  He was not looking forward to the other phone call he’d no doubt have to make. He loathed Sebastian Monroe.

  “Sir?” Clare asked, hoping that it was okay to talk. Her hands were in her lap, fiddling with the ends of her threaded out sleeves. She kept her eyes in front of her towards the empty road, not daring to look directly at him.

  “Yes?” he replied, keeping his voice level as he glanced in the rearview mirror again towards her. He saw his own green eyes reflect back to him as the town passed in the distance.

  “What . . . what will be expected of me? Of us?” she asked in fear, trying to look anywhere but at him. At least she was in the back where she didn’t have to maintain eye contact.

  “I’m not sure yet,” the man answered. “For now, I guess, just clean the house, make meals, normal things.” He gave a shrug. He knew what one of them would be, but didn’t want to frighten them more than they were.

  “You will both be sharing a room, for the time being as I don’t have another room ready. I didn’t think I would be getting both of you, so I only have the one room ready. My cousin’s wife will be getting you clothes so you can have clean ones. I don’t like filth, and that includes being worn,” the man went on, his voice filled with demand.

  “I won’t abuse either of you in any way. It’s not how anyone should be treated, so you have nothing to fear,” he said. And he wouldn’t. He was raised to not ever raise a hand in anger or otherwise towards a woman. Men – well that was an entirely different story.

  “Anything else?” he asked, turning onto the narrow road, glancing at the rear view mirror and catching the younger girl’s terror filled eyes.

  “No, sir,” Clare said, turning her attention out the window beside her. She wondered where they were going, and still fretted about what was to become of her. She didn’t want to hold onto hope about what he said, so she stayed quiet.

  Summer sat up, letting her tears dry on her cheeks as the car turned onto a dirt road. It still ran smooth, but she could feel the tires on the dirt road. It wasn’t the same as the feel of the highway.

  She had liste
ned to the man as he answered Clare, but knew that he was hiding something. She didn’t know if she wanted to know now or wait until it was too late. In the end, it didn’t really matter. She had no say over what would happen.

  The car came to a gentle stop just outside the tall metal fence waiting for the gate to open before driving up one side of a circular drive to the house. It was a dark brick farmhouse with a six car garage. There was an upper floor, and what looked like a basement. A huge tree sat in between the circular drive shading the front yard. There was even a room over the garage.

  Both girls were in awe of such a huge house. They were used to seeing smaller houses, but they had cost more than this one country home. This house was all brick and had arches in places that they had never seen before.