Somewhere off in a more lively area, a pale woman with a wicked model-like figure stood at the top of a building. The building itself was a brothel, Elena nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, my lord. Always."
Duncan's smile was like a knife's edge. "Good," he purred, his fingers trailing down her neck. For a moment, Elena thought he might bite her too, might finally grant her the dark gift she secretly craved. But then he pulled away, leaving her breathless and aching.
"Clean up this mess," Duncan ordered, gesturing vaguely at the closed doors hiding the drained women. "I have business to attend to."
With that, he strode away, leaving Elena alone in the hallway. She sagged against the wall, her heart pounding. The night's events replayed in her mind, a mix of horror and exhilaration. She knew what Duncan did to those women. And she couldn't deny the thrill that coursed through her at being part of it all.
