Sweetest Torment

Delivered Into The Lions Den

God. It was like she was immune to actually learning a lesson. Liquor and men? Never a good combination. Yet, what had she done? Gone and combined the two. Now she was tethered to a freaking leash and being ushered up the path to a mansion where her supposed new 'master' lived. How did she get here? Well, she was portal hopping, a common sport among the young adults of Paradox and her friend convinced her it would be fun to get shit faced and pick up unsuspecting mortals. They were mortals for Gods sakes, she hardly saw the harm. Well, she was wrong. One minute she was sucking face in a hotel room with a hot law student, and then the next she was kissing sheet after he so kindly tasered her. The gentlemen. Long story short, she woke up to find herself in an underground 'slave market' that catered to the rich, bored and sadistic. She didn't know who ran the whole thing but it was clear they knew all about the supernatural world. They had slaves of every kind. From sirens to Valkyries and werewolves.

Felicity took a deep breath, the small action causing her chest to heave. The guard closest to her was drawn to the movement, his gaze pinned on her chest. She gave him a sweet smile before saying, "Please, keep looking. When I rip your eyes out? I want my actions to be justified." His gaze jerked to her face and he cleared his throat guiltily before facing forward. Usually, she didn't mind male attention. She was a succubus after all and she did need to feed, but at this moment she wasn't really feeling it.

She felt a sharp yank on her leash and stumbled forward. "Move it!" the other guard ordered, giving her a snide look. Aww, how cute! was he still mad that she kicked him in the bal- he yanked her chain again and she gave a squeak. "Hey!" she protested. "I would love to see you walk that fast in six-inch heels!" she snapped. They neared the house and Felicity gave a defeated shrug. Whatever, she was here now so she'd make the best of it. Besides, maybe whoever bought her wasn't that bad and she might actually enjoy herself...right? She could almost feel her subconscious giving her a droll stare for the clamorous attempt at delusion. Okay, so this was shitty, but wasn't there some over-optimistic saying about life, lemons, and lemonade? Well, she could do that. Lemonade was great! ...With vodka.

Turning her attention to the house, or mansion to be more accurate, Felicity wondered just how she was gonna get herself out of this one, and more importantly, who was this 'master' of hers? She didn't have to wonder for long. The guards guided her up the grand stairs leading to the entrance and gave the door a hearty knock. Felicity was a pro at joking everything off but at that moment the severity of the situation hit her like a brick and her heart thundered in her chest. What if she didn't make it out of this alive? Would the last memory she had with her family be of her storming off drunk and high on Gods know what at the time? An image of her little sister, Lana, calling after her fluttered across her mind and she fought back the wave of sadness that rose up in her throat like bile. Squaring her shoulders, Felicity made a quick promise to herself. If she got out of this alive, she'd go back to Paradox and be the sister she should have been. The sister she used to be.

It seemed like an eternity before the door finally swung open and Felicity was greeted by...

A man carved by the Gods.

Everything was, for lack of a better word, chiseled. He looked like he was etched from stone and brought to life to make women weak in the knees. His face was composed of sharp angles and defined sloops. He wore at least two days worth of stubble and his lips were plush, kissable. His eyes were the most impressive colour of hazel and seemed to speak a million words at once and hold just as many secrets. A set of perfectly trimmed dark brows sat above them. His light brown locks were sexily disheveled and fell a few inches past his collarbone. Felicity's eyes dropped to his chest that was covered in a dark blue V-neck sweater that seemed to be one size too small as it molded to every dip and rise his well-defined chest offered.