The Rose's Soul

She cringed as a bloodcurdling note screeched from the violin.

Whoever it was had been playing- or rather trying to play- the violin for the past hour, and they weren't doing a very good job. Besides, the usually sweet, sensual, calming music of a violin didn't belong in this hellhole.

The door to her prison opened, and the stagnant smell of mold and week old human B.O. wafted in. She huddled in a corner, her knees to her chest, praying that she could just die now. The source, a man she'd come to know as Jakob, practically threw a tray of cold rice and beans at her.

"That's your lunch," he rasped. She pinched her nose, defending it from the putrid scent of garlic and rotten eggs she instinctively knew was coming. After all, they'd had her there for two weeks now.

"When I get something edible," she said, "I'll eat."

Jakob glared at her. Damn. She was fragile, yes, but this bitch was always opposing him.

"You're going to do this again? Really?"

"We both know that Viktor needs me alive. By not eating this shit I'm simply helping that cause."

He snarled, making her flinch, then picked up the tray and left without a word, locking the door behind him. She hummed to herself until the violin started again.

Who was playing? Jakob? That would explain the atrocity. But by the sound of it, she could tell that the person was actually trying. Jakob would just state that his playing was godlike and continue.

She looked at her callused, bloody hands, tears forming at the memory that haunted her. He could have done anything to her and she wouldn't have cared. He could have raped her, but she would have recovered. This... was just cruel. By doing this, the chances of her holding her violin once more were amazingly lessened.

She bent her fingers and winced. Yeah. They were almost at zero percent.

She heard footsteps above her and froze. They weren't heavy, like Jakob's, or light, like Viktor's. They were somewhere in between, light, yet deliberate. They came closer, and closer, until the source was finally revealed.

"Annika Vladmiri. It's nice to finally make your acquaintance."

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Viktor grunted as the concubine sucked his dick. Yeah, he thought, if every man worked for a big-shot like his boss, they'd be extremely happy. The man had women falling at his feet, and he simply passed them on. More than half of them he hadn't touched; he'd simply given then to Viktor with a "Have fun" and left the room.

He fisted his hands in her hair and brought her head down on him more, shuddering when she accommodated him. Nothing could ruin this moment.

Nothing except that uneasy feeling that hovered over him. What was he doing down there with the violin player? Fucking her? Slowly killing her? The thoughts made him even hotter, and he pounded away into the woman's mouth. The violin player was one fine ass chick, but simple. What would his boss want with her when he gave up women like the one choking on his dick?

Viktor felt himself going over the edge, and as he came in the woman's mouth, only one thought was running through his mind.

If the boss didn't take her, he would.

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"Finally? I don't believe we've met before," Annika said softly.

The mystery man smiled, and held out his hand.

"Dimitri Stanislov," he said. Annika shook his hand, and let go quickly. She didn't want this man touching her for any length of time.

"Russian. Interesting."

Dimitri smiled again and raked his gaze over her. Yes, he thought, she will do nicely. After all, she was the one with quick fingers.

His gaze darted to her hands, the first thing that had drawn him to her. His eyes darkened with fury.

"Who... the fuck... touched her hands?" he asked. Jakob, who was right behind him, cringed.

"When Viktor brought her here she fought tooth and nail," Jakob replied. "Her hands were important to her, so he damaged them to keep her in line."

And judging by the way she sat quietly in a corner meant that Viktor's silly idea worked. So he was right. Annika was very passionate about her playing.

He wanted to know what other games she could be passionate about...

"It doesn't hurt," she said. "It just looks bad."

By the distant look in her eyes, he could tell she was lying. She probably couldn't come to terms with the injury herself.

He kneeled down beside her, dirtying his brand-new Armani suit. He took her hands in his, closed his eyes, and healed her. He heard the expected hiss of pain she released when he began, but what amazed him was how she never pulled away from him. When he was done, he looked at her expecting fright and rejection; all that was in her eyes was gratitude.

She understood. She'd understood what he'd done, her mind had already registered that he wasn't like her.

And she didn't run.

"Why me?" she asked. "Why did you want me?"

Dimitri smiled.

"The reason will be revealed to you in due time, Annika. For now, I've come to fetch you. It's time."

Her emerald eyes looked up at him, filled with confusion.

"Time for what?"

Jakob chuckled, and Dimitri smiled once more.

"Our wedding, of course."