House of Judges (House of Royals Book 4) by Keary Taylor

orders, I presume?”
    She cocks an eyebrow at me, a small smile on her lips. “He was very specific. She must have really pissed him off.”
    The guard chuckles and shoves me forward, just as the female guard jabs something into my back, right above my heart. I hiss in pain, pulling away from them.
    “You’ll do as Madame says for the next two days,” the male one says. “Or the implant will explode, as will your heart. He’s got cameras everywhere in the club, so don’t try anything clever.”
    He pushes me from behind with enough strength to send me to my knees. I barely catch myself from falling on my face since my hands are chained together.
    “You’ve got the controller,” the female guard says. “If she steps out of line, the King says not to hesitate in setting it off.”
    “I understand,” the woman they refer to as Madame says. “I’ll take it from here.”
    I look back to see the male guard giving me a smirk before they both turn to leave.
    “Stand up,” Madame says. “Our clients here will know you’re a Royal, seeing you on the ground like this could go from one extreme to another.”
    Slowly, I pick myself up from off the polished marble floor. I’m still looking around, taking it all in.
    There’s a woman, completely naked, talking to another woman while she preps herself in the mirror. She laughs, acting as if it’s no big deal that her breasts are out in the open, for all to see, or that her voluptuous back end is exposed.
    Yet none of these people seem bothered by the nudity. They don’t steal glances, don’t look at all. As if they’re completely desensitized.
    “I’m sure you can guess what this place is,” Madame says, dragging my attention back to her. It’s then that I realize her accent is American. “We dance here, for men or women. Some of the clients are here for more…extreme forms of pleasure, blood or skin. I’m in charge here. I hire the employees, schedule appointments. Make sure everyone is doing their job. And the King has sent you here, to me, for the next two days.”
    “I don’t understand,” I say as sweat prickles along my skin.
    “Oh, I think you do,” Madame says as a flat smile pulls on her red lips.
    “Please,” I say. Because I think I do, too, but I just can’t quite accept it. “Spell it out for me.”
    “Okay,” she says as she starts walking around me in a circle. “King Cyrus can hold a grudge like you wouldn’t believe. For being thousands of years old, his memory is impeccable. He forgets nothing. And fresh on his memory, is how you misled him. How you made him believe.”
    She reaches out and gathers a handful of my shirt. She gives it a great yank and rips it clean from my skin. As startled as I am, the expression on her face is calm. As if she is simply doing her job. She gains no pleasure or sadness from her actions.
    “You thought it a good idea to play with the King, and now he is going to turn you into the Court’s favorite new, shiny toy,” she says. Once again, she rips my clothing from my body, leaving me in only a dirty bra and underwear and simple flats.
    I’m exposed, left defenseless in every way.
    “You played with the King, and now he is going to whore you out to his descendants.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
    “SHOWER, AND THEN NATALIA WILL help you do your hair and makeup,” Madame says as she walks with me to the far end of the dressing room. She does indeed stop at a shower. But there’s no door, no curtain. “And don’t worry about being a prude. No one back here cares about your body.”
    Embarrassment spikes in my blood as I look around once again. No one is paying me any mind, they’re all busy prepping themselves, or talking, or sitting and reading as they wait to go on stage, I assume.
    “Hurry up,” Madame says impatiently. “I really don’t have all day.”
    I want to fight. To knock her on her back and bolt. But there’s still the dull ache in my back where the guard implanted the explosive.