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howled.
    The agony stopped, but he couldn’t think. Dizziness swept over him, and he wished he’d pass out so he wouldn’t have to look at her satisfied smirk.
    “You’re mine.” She tossed the branding iron back into the glowing pit.
    The stench of his burned flesh churned his gut. He was branded, a piece of property.
    But the bitch wasn’t done. She grabbed his cheeks and squeezed, digging her nails into flesh, forcing his mouth open. She stuck her tongue inside his mouth, raping his mouth. He struggled but it was useless. Torment consumed him.
    “Until tomorrow.” She released him and pinched his ass hard. Her lips were stained with blood, and she licked them clean. “You taste so good.”
    She ambled out of the chamber, swaying her hips. Leaving him with his misery, his humiliation. 

Chapter Five
     
    Violet sat across from her Mademoiselle Celeste. Celeste waved her fan in front of her flush face. “Tonight I want to win big. Je veux cèlèbrer .” Her blue eyes dilated with excitement.
    “Yes, Maîtresse . I’ll make sure you win.” Violet acted the dutiful servant, forcing a tight smile across her face.
    Greed flashed into Celeste’s eyes. “ Bien .”
    Revulsion rolled over Violet. She clenched her fists. How could Celeste torture Amadi like that? Violet and the other servants had been forced to listen to his curses and yells during dinner while Dubois leaned against the door, holding a pistol. Each time Amadi cried out, Dubois had a sick smile on his twisted face. Violet had picked at her chicken. Dubois had walked away from the door to eat a piece of bread. Violet had wanted to run down into the dungeon and kill Celeste, but she’d be dead before she even reached the bottom of the stairs.
    “Don’t look so gloomy, Violet.”
    Violet turned her gaze away from the window, wishing she could change places with any of the men and women walking the boardwalks of Saint Kitts. “I’m not gloomy.”
    “ Oui , you are. You’ve been pouting ever since we left the Sorcière de Mer .”
    “I’m not pouting.”
    “Don’t argue with me.”
    Violet clamped her mouth shut. She’d learned long ago, arguing with Celeste lead to pain.
    Celeste tapped Violet’s knee with her fan. “He’s a slave and meant to do our bidding. Nothing more.”
    Bidding? That’s what she called it? Violet pretended to act bored, but her insides seethed with anger. “He hadn’t done anything yet.”
    “ Oui , he had, imbècile . He’s an escaped slave and needed to be set as an example. I will not tolerate any rebellions.” She sat taller and braced her back.
    But she wasn’t fooling Violet. Celeste lived in fear of a rebellion. She should be afraid, very afraid. If anyone deserved their slaves to revolt, it was Celeste.
    The carriage pulled into the circle drive of Harold’s, St. Kitt’s most expensive gaming house. It was a two-story white building with windows with pink shutters.
    The young footman, Sammy, opened the door and helped Celeste down the steps. “Welcome, Maîtresse Celeste.”
    “Hello, Sammy,” she said. But she didn’t look at him. He was skinny and scrawny, not the type of buck she craved. Lucky for Sammy.
    Violet dutifully trailed behind Celeste, her head bent. Sammy took her hand and bowed. “Good evening, Miss Violet. You look lovely tonight.” He squeezed her fingers slightly like he always did. Sammy always looked at Violet as if she was the prettiest woman in town. She didn’t know why. She wore drab clothes, thanks to Celeste. In this humidity, her hair curled into an unruly mess. Her skin had turned brown and wasn’t white and pristine like Celeste’s. She usually would give the young man a flashing smile, but tonight she could only manage a slight whisper. “Thank you.”
    Celeste glowered and flicked her fan, slapping Violet hard on the arm. “Come along, Violet.”
    Violet winced and nodded. “Yes, Maîtresse .” She rubbed her arm, not understanding Celeste’s jealousy.