A Token's Worth (Spawn of Darkness Book 1) Page 12

  The one with the whip eyes me up and down before jerking his chin to another man on the stand, who takes three long strides towards me with a cocky swag. He picks me up by the neck and tosses me at the feet of the young girl.

  Fucking ouch. Whose bright idea was this?

  Choking out a breath, I look up in time to see Kroe in all his dark-haired glory, sauntering up the opposite side of the dais, blood red sash wrapped tightly around his middle.

  Fuck. This really is not my day.

  You’re probably expecting someone old and ugly with a middle-aged spread. The reality is quite the opposite. Though he is middle-aged, he’s like a jar of pickles; well fucking preserved. I take in his chiselled jaw, roguish black curls that are perfectly styled and shiny, and his wide shoulders. I dare a peep at his knowing brown eyes. Condescending fuckers.

  He runs his tongue across his teeth then whispers something into the ear of the bastard with the whip, who nods. Kroe takes two more steps, leans down and picks me up by the back of my blouse. I hang before him, arms dangling, head lolling.

  Ugh, I didn’t miss this.

  The smell of cigars and brandy washes over me, assaulting my senses. My nose itches. The arsehole’s still dusty. I have a split-second warning before I sneeze all over his face.

  Whoops.

  He frowns and wipes away my nose jizz before throwing me back down with a sneer. “I’ll allow it. Forty lashings. She’ll take the girls punishment, as well as her own for speaking out of turn.”

  Fucking wanker. I should’ve double sneeze jizzed his face.

  The girl’s bonds are loosened to the murmurs of the crowd and she drops into a whimpering pile on the floor. She’ll probably get stitched up again and be waist deep in cum and hairy ball sacks before the sun sets. Then she’ll die of infection, because that blood seeping out of her smells a little funky.

  Fuck my life. I wish I could cry at times like this. Instead, I’m up here looking like a crazy bitch with a death wish.

  Two of the men lift me from the ground by my arms, fastening me into place between the two poles that I’ve always thought look like giant, erect shlongs. Perhaps that’s what they’re meant to look like, and having a woman strung between them and whipped to within an inch of her life gives these men some sick sense of satisfaction.

  Perhaps if I hadn’t been frightened of Aero’s penis, I wouldn’t be in this predicament. I know that’s messed up logic, but my head’s a bit jumbled right now because I’m about to be slashed open by a fucking cat o’ nine. And I’m not stupid, I saw the look in Kroe’s eyes; he’s glad to see me. This public whipping will probably be the least of my worries.

  My skirt is tugged off me and I roll my eyes. Why the fuck does everyone need to see my labia when they’re just lashing my back?

  I pan my vision over the crowd as my bonds are tightened. Not the sort that make my vagina purr with anticipation.

  I make out Kal, Drake, and now Sol, just shy of the back of the crowd. Kal is pissed, Drake is pissed, and Sol looks fucking savage. Wow, are they worried about me? No, probably not, they’re just stressing about their magic boost. I need to hurry up and get through the rest of these wishes so the men don’t feel so goddamn tethered to me. Then I can run away, find my way to the Day Kingdom, steal a chunk of sparkly floor and finally make that little life for myself in the East.

  That’s if Kroe doesn’t fuck me into oblivion for leaving, or cut off all my limbs and make me that swinging sex chair so his customers can continue to pump me full of semen. I shudder at the thought as they tear my blouse from my body and drop it on the ground at my feet.

  The sobbing girl is led off the landing. I turn away, unable to look at her any longer. I know her days are numbered.

  I look towards Aero, surrounded by circles of kneeling men and women praying to him, while watching my show unfold. One fist is clenched, the other white knuckled, holding my wooden box.

  Actually, he’s not moving … at all. He looks like an Aero statue. A really fucking brutal one, eyes flooding black and features sharpening, moulding him into something that looks positively frightening.

  My eyes slip past Drake, then Kal, unmoving, gorgeous godly statues, canines bared.

  Suspicion overrides …

  I shift my gaze to Sol. Beads of sweat are tearing down his face, jaw locked, his entire body trembling.

  It clicks.

  He’s not taking any chances; he’s holding his brothers at bay, protecting them from battling against those god killing wards.

  Fuck.

  My chest wrap is unwound from my body, setting my breasts free. The cold nips my nips and the scent of arousal rises in the crowd.

  Kroe bows low to Aero from his place on the dais, slowly rises, then leans in close to my ear. “They’re all imagining fucking you while you hang here. Even the Gods bless your punishment.” His breath smells like the sardines on toast he had for breakfast. I hate sardines. “As much as I detest it, I’ve missed your rebellious side Adeline. This fantasy’s going to make me a fortune.”

  He pulls away and I catch the eye of Sol. He looks like he’s about to blow a fucking artery as he stands there, straining with the force of holding his brothers at bay. But his eyes are wide, and he doesn’t just look angry … he looks terrified.

  He’s probably frightened he’s going to lose his hold and his brothers will die, along with his meaning for existence.

  Shit.

  Yeah, ok. I fucked up.

  Then it hits … the whip. It cracks through the air so loudly it takes me a moment to register the pain, but once I do, fuck me, it bites like ten snakes and stings like a viper going through menopause, except worse. Much, much worse.

  I grit my teeth as the next one lands lower on my back, feeling the warm spill of blood. This fucker’s lethal. I’ve never shed blood on the second lashing before. I hope I survive this, so I can live to suck this guy’s testicles, and by suck them I mean bite them the fuck off. They’ll probably take my head for it, but whatever, I’m done with this shit.

  Another one hits, and another, and another, and it’s like an endless wave of fire lashing across my back, sending crimson droplets spraying about me like a cloud of blood.

  The cheers of the crowd fade out and I lose all perception of time.

  Managing to look up at one point, all I see are my Gods, who really, let’s be honest, have treated me bloody well. They haven’t done this to me, and I’ve spoken out of turn over a thousand times around them.

  I should’ve trusted them more—then maybe I wouldn’t be here right now. But then, that young girl would be here instead, and I’m back to the bloody start again.

  Fuck me, I think this is going to kill me. If I survive this, it’ll be a miracle.

  And yup, I just peed myself.

  I doubt any of them will want my vagina anymore. Sorry girl, I’ve failed you.

  She doesn’t answer me, and I don’t blame her. She’ll probably hate me forever now and refuse to give me orgasms. She can be a vindictive twat sometimes.

  Just when I’m about to pass the fuck out, a warm wash swarms over my skin, and though the whip still bites like a bitch I no longer feel like my body’s about to fall to pieces, because the pain is battling with this warm tingly sensation, like tiny hands massaging me all over my skin.

  It’s Drake, I know it is, trying to give me something to cling to. But that darkness is really fucking tempting. And it’s hauling at my vision, blurring the edges and tugging at my conscience.

  I’m dying.

  Fuck.

  I don’t want this … I don’t want to fucking die.

  But my body does, it so badly wants to slip. It’s like I’m climbing a ladder and I’m almost at the top, but my hand keeps sliding off the last wrung and sending me crashing to the ground. Kal must be messing with my head, preventing me from slipping into the darkness, along with his magic boost. I’m not sure whether I should smite him or thank him for it.

  I sink
my teeth into my bottom lip, causing warm blood to dribble down my chin as the whip continues to lash at my flayed skin.

  Again. Again. Again.

  My teeth sink deeper—anything to prevent me from screaming out for this to stop.

  Aero gains an inch, Sol’s face crumbling as a droplet of sweat beads down the tip of his nose, landing on the ground before him.

  No … he’ll die.

  ‘Stop! Aero, please! I’m okay …’

  His features sharpen. He knows I’m lying.

  He knows just as well as I do, part of me is dying.

  But he doesn’t understand; I’ve been through worse. I’ve lived through worse. I will live through this. I have my girls, and I’m a fucking survivor.

  The whipping subsides and my hands are unbound. I collapse into a pool of my own blood, hair splayed around me, curls of ruby glistening in the early morning glow.

  I stare at them, unblinking.

  I can’t move.

  I can barely breathe.

  “Unless you want word to get back to King Sterling that your girls are playing up, you need to keep your bitches on a tighter leash,” the bastard with the whip says.

  Kroe clears his throat. “Consider it done.”

  He picks me up and it almost destroys me all over again. I let out some unladylike noises, sounding like a wounded animal as he jostles my body, carrying me down the stairs and through the silent crowd.

  It occurs to me that my blood’s staining his perfectly white top. The fucker will probably get off on that later, wank one out while he sniffs it or some shit.

  He gets in real close to my ear, hoisting me up a little and making me heave in the process. “Do you know how many girls I’ve had whipped or brutalised over the past few weeks, Cupcake? Too many. Too fucking many. But I knew you’d eventually take the bait.”

  What. The. Actual. Fuck.

  I groan.

  I let my girls down.

  I let my mother down.

  I let everyone fucking down.

  “And now I have you back. It’s going to be just like old times, though with a difference, because all those men in the crowd today were practically gagging for your cunt, and I know you like it rough, don’t you sweets?”

  Fuck my life. Fuck my fucking life.

  I’m drifting, and I pray to the four Sun Gods that I don’t wake up again, because something tells me this isn’t going to be like old times at all.

  Something tells me it’s going to be a lot fucking worse.

  The end of book one.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you, Mum and Dad. You are a pillar of support and have always urged me to follow my dreams. I never expected those dreams would compel me to write a story about a prostitute who has conversations with her vagina, but we’ll ignore that finer detail. I know you are proud of me, and that’s all that matters!

  Mum, when I read you the first chapter of this book, you never once batted an eyelid at all the slippery vaginas, never once told me I should write something more pertinent. In fact, you proceeded to sit down and brainstorm the rest of the series with me while we laughed hysterically over highly inappropriate innuendo.

  Thank you for making me feel validated every day of my life. Thank you for the countless hours you have spent helping me to polish my work. I couldn’t have done this without you.

  My darling husband—thank you for believing in me, for reminding me of my untapped potential … I bet you never expected it would spurt onto the pages of a book in the form of a reverse harem, huh?! (Insert laughing face here) But in all seriousness, thank you for sticking it out with me.

  Nana, thank you for inspiring me with your creativity, and for showing me how strong and independent a woman can be. I love you, and not a day goes by that I don’t miss you.

  Lauren, thank you for the hours you invested into helping me, not to mention holding my hand through the entire publishing process. Most importantly, thank you for laughing at my vulgar sense of humour and dishing it right back at me.

  My amazing ARC group, thank you all for investing time into this series, and giving me such validation. You’re all wonderful.

  To everyone else who has supported me along this journey that has only just begun, thank you!

  About the Author

  Sarah Ashleigh Parker

  Sarah is New Zealand born and lives in the Gold Coast, Australia with her husband and their three children. She discovered her love for the written word early on, devouring book after book and creating her own stories in her spare time, winning various competitions throughout her school years for her quirky imagination.

  It’s only recently that she has been able to fully immerse herself into writing, being at home with three young children and an unquenchable thirst for creativity.

  And so, with the timing being as good as it ever gets, and the passion and determination of a woman possessed, Sarah threw herself into becoming an author. Juggling an eclectic mix of manic writing, editing and proofing sessions, child rearing, homemaking and everything else life throws around, she somehow makes it work.

  Sarah’s preferred genre is dark adult fantasy romance and she has a large number of books in the works.

  Connect with S. A. Parker

  Author Page

  Readers group

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  A Token’s Worth Spotify Playlist

  Spawn of Darkness Series

  A Token’s Worth

  A Feather’s Worth

  A Lover’s Worth - Pre-Order Available Now

  A Woman’s Worth - Coming Soon