Page 11 of The Games of Madmen

Z’s finger dips inside me, finally, and I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out. I’m sore from them taking turns exploring every inch of me last night, but I don’t think I will ever get enough of them.

“Cousin, it’s always a pleasure but I haveotherpleasures waiting for my attention,” Rodion murmurs, voice saturated with lust.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, do you two ever stop fucking?” Ven demands with an exasperated groan. “Unbelievable.”

I bite back a giggle at Ven’s annoyance.

The phone gets tossed across the couch after Rodion ends the call and he stands, pulling his shirt from his slacks and unbuttoning it as he approaches the bed, his predatory gaze darkening.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

I’m alive. My breaths come in quick, ragged gasps as I jolt from the dream where two masked men caught me and stole me away from The Games.

No, not a dream.

Reality.

Z’s arm lays heavily over my chest, the warmth of his body skin to skin against mine making my pulse skip. Memories of our bodies moving in tandem all night causes an ache to build between my legs. I’ll not be able to walk if this sex-a-thon keeps on.

“You okay, love?” Rodion asks, licking his lips. He’s sitting up beside me texting on his phone.

“Just a bad dream, or maybe a good one.”

“Hmmm.” He grins, flashing me a knowing look.

It’s been four days since The Games. I planned to live, but not by getting rescued by the two men who helped train me to survive. The same ones who convinced me I was capable of winning. The two men whom I wanted to live for, so I could lose myself in them afterwards. Give in to all the tension we’d builtover those long grueling months together. A reward for living. And God did they make it worth the wait.

I bet Yuri had a stroke when I disappeared, and my body wasn’t found in the aftermath. He designed The Games, made the rules, and I broke the very first one. You only get to leave The Games by surviving and defeating every fucker who comes for you. Or you go in a body bag.

Winning is the only real exit.

I didn’t win.

I want to pretend it doesn’t matter, to be grateful that I’m out, but there’s a nagging stirring in my stomach that is a warning. This isn’t over. They don’t like being made a mockery of, and I didn’t give them what they craved.

My death.

“Are you going to tell me why you came into The Games for me? Did Vas know you planned to do this?” I ask Rodion who’s now finishing a bottle of vodka their housemaid dropped off earlier. Z already demolished the other half. I’ve stuck to the angel bites and water to hydrate myself and replace the sweat these deviants keep working out of me.

“Yuri wasn’t going to let you lifff.” His words slur at the end of the sentence.

“We kinda knew that going in,” I remind him. “He couldn’t do anything about it if I survived and came out the victor.” I don’t want to sound like a whiney bitch, but my pride is hurt a little that they didn’t really think I could win, and sent me in anyway.Not that they had a choice.

“We weren’t willing to leth you dieee.”

Why is he slurring? How much vodka did he drink?

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t have,” I grumble stubbornly.

“They would neffer let what happened wiff Dianuhh happen againnn.” He grunts and rubs at his temple. “We found out Yuriiiwas sending in someone jush to kill..lll you. You wouldn’t haff survived himmm.”

I think someone needs to lay off the Rainbow juice because he’s wasted. Folding my arms, I take a deep breath, not sure I want to argue with a drunk person.

“So did Vas know?” Okay, so apparently I do want to continue this discussion, wasted or not.

“No one knewwww.”

“Why did you come for me?” My voice is barely above a whisper. I don’t sound like myself. The vulnerability makes my cheeks heat. It couldn’t be just so they could fuck me. No fuck is worth the risk, surely?