CLAUDE
EVEEYTHING FELT OFF. My head was spinning, my body on fire, and my muscles too weak to respond the way I needed them to. Voices swirled around me, muffled and distant, as if they were happening in some other reality. But they weren't. They were here. Too close.
I forced my eyes open and stared up at the harsh glow of a yellow light. A groan escaped me as I turned my head and realized I wasn't alone. Three men were in the room with me, their shadows stretching across the walls like predators.
"What...the…" I tried to sit up, but my body refused to cooperate. A wave of dizziness slammed me back down, my breaths coming in shallow pants. Heat. No, it wasn't just that—I was in heat, but it wasn't normal. It wasn't right. Something was wrong.
Before I could process what was happening, a camera was shoved in my face.
"Smile for the people watching you, Tate," a voice sneered. "You've got over fifty bidders salivating over you right now."
My lips twisted into a snarl I couldn't control as my hips betrayed me, jerking upward in search of relief I didn't want to need.
"Look at him, Jake. That drug is really messing him up."
Drug? My thoughts collided in a chaotic mess. *They drugged me. That was why my body felt so alien, why my heat was spiraling out of control.
"No. No, no, no…" My voice cracked as I struggled against the hands holding me down. "Let me go!"
The man holding the camera tapped his earpiece and tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over me like I was nothing but a commodity.
"Boss says strip him."
"What?! No!" I thrashed weakly, but it was useless. My shirt was yanked over my head, my pants ripped down, leaving me exposed except for the socks and shoes they hadn't bothered with.
"You…can't… Stop," I stammered, my voice breaking as my body betrayed me again, arching into the mattress even as I screamed inside. I didn't want this. I didn't want any of this.
"Get him wet," the cameraman ordered, his voice sharp.
A gloved hand wrapped around me, stroking with brutal pace as I writhed in helpless anger.
"No! Stop it! You can't do this!" My voice cracked, desperation bleeding into every word. Tears stung my eyes as I yanked at their hold, but my strength was gone.
"Shut up," one of them growled. "Look at you. You want it."
I didn't. I didn't want this. But my body was betraying me, reacting to the forced heat and drug coursing through my veins.
"Turn him over. Lube him up. Let the clients get a view of his ass."
A fresh wave of panic slammed through me as they flipped me like I weighed nothing, forcing me onto my knees. My hands clawed uselessly at the sheets as something cold and slick slid between my cheeks.
"No," I whispered, my voice breaking.
A finger pushed inside me, and I collapsed face-first onto the mattress, shaking so hard it felt like my body would shatter. Tears spilled freely now, hot and hard. Memories I had buried long ago slammed into me, choking me as I gasped for air.
"Looks like you've got a buyer, kid," the cameraman said, his voice filled with mockery of casual. "Pack it up, boys."
The door clicked shut, and silence filled the room, save for my ragged breathing. I lay there, trembling, my body drenched in shame and sweat.
I had to get out.
Pushing myself up, I swayed on my feet, the walls tilting and spinning as I leaned against them for support. Naked or not, I didn't care. All that mattered was finding Nikolai.
I stumbled to the door, my fingers fumbling with the knob. Locked. Of course, it was locked.
As I backed away, the door clicked open, and a familiar face stepped inside.
"Hello, Tate," He said, his lips curling into a grin that made my blood boil.
Antonio.
He shut the door behind him, taking his time as he stalked closer.
"I've waited for this moment," he said, his voice low, as though savoring every word. "Finally, I get to have you all to myself."
"Get the fuck out of my way," I growled, my voice raw.
He chuckled, unfastening his belt. "Not when I paid fifty grand for you."
My stomach turned as he shoved me backward onto the bed, his hands rough and unapologetic.
Don't fight it, boy," he sneered. "Be good and You'll enjoy it soon enough."
"No," I spat, my fists clenching as I fought against his weight.
But I was no match for him—not like this.
His hand wrapped around my cock, squeezing until pain shot through my body, and I gasped, hating how it mingled with the twisted pleasure of my forced heat.
"Be a good boy and spread your legs for me," he said, his tone mockingly sweet.
His fingers pushed inside me, and I froze, memories slamming into me with brutal clarity. My mind screamed, but my body was locked in place.
"Be a good boy, Claude. Spread those legs for me." Viktor whispered, breath hot against my cheek.
The tears came before I could stop them, hot streaks sliding down my cheeks as my body trembled against the onslaught of sensations I didn't want. Couldn't want.
"Stop," I whispered, the word barely audible as my throat burned. It wasn't enough, not when he was still staring at me like I was his prize.
"Oh, you want it," he murmured, his voice low and mocking as his gaze dipped down my body. "Look at you—hard and leaking. The gods be damned, you're begging for it."
I shook my head, jerking my face to the side, desperate to shut him out. My nails dug into my palms, the pain grounding me, even as my body betrayed me with each humiliating response.
This wasn't me. It wasn't real. It was the fucking heat.
"Get off me," I growled, my voice raw and shaking as I clenched my fists tighter. "I'll kill you, you bastard."
But instead of retreating, he grinned—a sick, satisfied curl of his lips that made my stomach lurch. His hands forced my legs apart, his eyes glittering with delight.
"It's okay, boy," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "You'll feel good soon enough."
I gasped as he shoved me back, the rough wall biting into my skin, my legs raised helplessly as he lined himself up to my hole.
"If your father won't give me the pack," he sneered, his breath hot and vile against my ear, "then I'll take his son instead."
And then he pushed.
Something inside me snapped. My vision blurred, my breath ragged as a deep, guttural growl ripped from my throat. My claws extended, slicing through his face before he even realized what was happening.
Antonia howled, stumbling back, clutching his bleeding cheek as his eyes filled with terror.
I didn't wait. I bolted from the bed, my bare feet slapping against the cold floor, my body running on instinct alone.
"You...what are you?" he stammered, his voice trembling as he pressed himself into the corner and pressed his bloody clawed face. "You're a beast!"
I didn't respond. I didn't look back. I couldn't. My legs carried me to the door, and I yanked it open with shaking hands.
The hallway stretched endlessly before me, the dim light casting everything in a surreal haze. I staggered forward, my chest heaving as my head pounded and my body burned.
I had to find Nikolai.
The thought pulsed in my mind, loud and consuming, drowning out everything else. My heat, the pain, the fear—it all blurred into one singular goal. Nikolai.
I leaned against the wall, panting, my body trembling as the cold surface pressed into my overheated skin.
And then I felt him before I saw him. His presence wrapped around me like a balm, steadying me as my name fell from his lips.
"Claude."
His voice was like a lifeline, cutting through the haze.
I turned, and there he was, his arms outstretched as I collapsed into him.
"Nikolai," I whispered, my voice cracking "They..I—"
His jaw was tight, his grip firm as he tilted my face up to his. His eyes burned with anger, his voice low and deadly.
"What have they done to you?"