Sapphire Scars (The Jewelry Box #3) Read Online Pepper Winters

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Dark, Erotic, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: The Jewelry Box Series by Pepper Winters
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Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 148397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
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The cold in my bones turned glacial.

My heart riddled with frostbite.

He’ll die.

And him.

And him.

And him.

All of them.

“Yes, yes, you’re all at liberty to play, of course. But first.” Victor grinned. “Allow me to introduce you to our newest members of my Jewelry Box. I do hope you will make them feel welcome.”

A few men chuckled. “Hell yeah, we’ll make them feel welcome. Very welcome.”

Victor gave the man a tight smile, then prowled along the line and planted his hands on the smallest girl’s shoulders. Looming over her from behind, he looked like the worst kind of predator. “First up, this is…what was your name again, my sweetling?” He squeezed her until she winced and dropped her eyes. With black hair and a gaunt frame, she didn’t look old enough to graduate high-school, let alone be trafficked into this place.

Horror filled me.

Despair followed.

Henri shifted on his chair as my insides crawled.

“Are you squirmin’ because you want a piece, or are you uncomfortable, Henri?”

My eyes shot to the table next to ours.

Henri grunted and swallowed hard. “What?”

An older red-headed man who’d lurked around since the beginning smirked. Patting Nancy on her head where she kneeled next to him, he grinned. “I’ve seen you around. I watched you fuck your little tidbit the night of the storm. Despite the minor misunderstanding of your profession as a cop, I thought you’d slotted right in.”

Henri gave him a tight smile. “Then what’s your problem?”

The man leaned closer, his eyes mean. “My point is you’re very tightly wound. I would’ve expected the opposite, seeing as you were the only one allowed to stay. You’re not the one who had to tame himself back in society. You’ve been here the whole time, fucking your jewel, being who you truly are.” He waved a limp wrist in Henri’s direction. “So why are you so…jumpy?”

Henri stiffened. “Forgive me if I still have a shred of empathy. They’re new. This will be overwhelming. I remember how my first day felt, and I was on the opposite side of the collar.”

“Could always shackle one around your neck too, hey? Let you feel firsthand what they’re going through?” He snickered. “Perhaps you’re a cop after all, and that’s why you’re curling your lip at the new merchandise.”

“Can’t help it if they’re not my type.”

“No.” The man narrowed his eyes on me. “Turns out she’s your type, and you’re not the sharing kind.”

Henri went terrifyingly still. “You’re right. I’m not.”

“Pity.” The Master chuckled. “But oh well. Eight new treats to sample. Tell me.” He rubbed his chin and looked at the jewels on the stage. “Have any caught your eye because I have first dibs on the blonde and would hate to find you being annoying and paying yet another fortune to keep her out of our reach.”

“Nope. She’s all yours,” Henri muttered.

“You bloody bastard,” I hissed under my breath, my rage pouring free.

Peter’s head snapped up across the ballroom. Rachel shot me a wide-eyed look as she kneeled by the stage waiting for Victor.

Oops.

I hadn’t meant to say that.

Henri wasn’t the one I was furious with.

It was this.

This sick energy percolating in here. The rancid lust from horrible men and petrified fear from captives.

Rolling my shoulders, I whispered, “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did.” Henri sighed with stark weariness, not reacting to my fire.

I hated that he didn’t react. If he snapped. If he snarled. If he burned with me…there’d still be a chance. A chance he was still in there…still the one person I couldn’t stand to want and the one man I needed above all others.

“I am a bastard.” He nodded.

I hated the monotone, the dead tone.

Twisting to look at him, my temper sparked again, driven by loss and loneliness. “You know what? You are a bastard.”

He froze.

His grey eyes flared.

The other Master huffed and looked back at the stage.

God, Ily…now what have you done?

But something pushed me, needled me.

He had to snap somehow. He had to wake from whatever misery had drugged him.

Slowly, incredibly, a flare of silver light appeared in his shutdown stare. “You’re agreeing with me now? After trying to come onto me all month?” Bending over me, he breathed into my ear, “I might be a bastard, but I’m the only one ensuring you stay alive.”

“How? By ignoring me?”

“By staying the fuck away from you,” he snarled.

Finally.

Passion.

Pain and passion and spark.

I raised my chin. “So you’re not a bastard…you’re just an asshole.”

God, Ily!

It didn’t even make sense.

I had no idea what I was doing yet…

Henri shifted and speared his fingers through my loose hair. Dragging me closer, he groaned, “Fuck, I’ve missed you calling me names.”

The way he trembled.

The way my heart pounded.

Everything erupted with life.

His eyes dropped to my mouth.

And I let stupidity and instinct rule me. “Fuck you.”

He shuddered. His eyes snapped shut. When they opened again, they blazed. “You have no idea how badly I—”


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