Deciding today I need a break from training, I have the genius plan to take Alec to one of my favourite places near my house. I’m bored and I have no one else to play with, so he’ll have to do. I get dressed in a gorgeous aqua blue tropical print, backless, halter-neck dress with a thigh-high slit, slip on some white sandals, and grab a small purse that I tuck my phone and Crimson into. As if I’d go anywhere without her. I place my purse over my shoulder and walk down to Alec’s room and knock. I knock repeatedly but get no answer, so I open the door and peek my head inside. He’s there, he’s just out like a light. You'd think being in a house with assassins, one of whom was going to kill him, would make him a light sleeper, but nope. Goes to show how stressed he is I guess. I step into the room, walk over to him, and take a moment to admire him. The sheets are down to his hips exposing his toned olive skin and the tufts of hair covering his muscles. He hasn’t shaved since he started s
Eventually, Alec comes downstairs, his hair looking tussled while he’s dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a basic white T, but the shirt is hugging his frame in all the right ways. Stupid asshole still has my brain fuzzy with sex and now this little trek is going to just increase the ache this jerk has left in my pussy. I fucking hate him. “Where are we going?” He asks as he walks over to me. “A spot not far from here. It was meant to be a nice little day trip, but now I’m considering burying you out in the woods.” He smirks, “Someone sounds frustrated.” “How’s your dick feeling?” I smirk back. He shrugs, “It was worth it. You know I can fix that frustration for you, all you have to do is ask,” he says with a sly smile. “I have a knife in my purse, and I am very tempted to use it,” I threaten. He laughs, “You know I’m getting pretty good at learning when you’re bluffing,” he says smugly and that has me coming up short. Who the fuck said anything about bluffing? My fingers inch the
My brain begins to wake up as I feel the edge of my bed dip alerting me to a presence in my room. “I understand you have this well-thought-out intricate plan on how to handle the boy and this Grigoras mess, but does your plan have to involve me babysitting him while you’re off fighting the ultimate battle for survival?” I hear my grandpa huff. I turn my head away and dive my head under my pillow. What is with the people in this family always disrupting my sleep? “Alina, I’m speaking to you,” says grandpa in a hard voice as he pokes me in the back. “And I’m ignoring you. Take the hint,” I grumble. “I’m trying to speak to you young lady,” he scolds. “And I’m trying to sleep. What does everyone have against me sleeping?” I groan. I feel the bed shift as I feel my grandpa lay down beside me. “With everything you told us, you know they won’t stop trying to kill you just because you’re in The Tournament,” my grandpa says gravelly. I sigh. Deciding sleep is futile at this point, I lift
I spent all day getting dressed up for dinner, and I think it was well worth the effort because I look stunning. A dress seemed too expected, so I went for a gorgeous emerald and gold gemstone design full-length pantsuit. It has short sleeves with a plunging neckline and a collar and the sash around the waist really helps to accentuate my figure. I have masterfully accessorised with a gorgeous emerald, peridot and diamond encrusted necklace with matching earrings and have my hair up in a stylish and intricate low bun. Since I was not blessed with height, I paired this with 6” stilettos that are a beautiful beige to nude ombre and of course, I did my make-up. I wanted the whole look to have a theme so I went with gold lids, a subtle smokey eye with dark green corners and a wing teamed with a simple glossy nude lip. I even had time to do my nails. I keep my nails short for practical reasons, but I still like them to look pretty from time to time, so I painted them a matt emerald green a
I lay on my bed staring up at the chandelier hanging above me as I count each individual crystal. I only manage to make it to twenty or so crystals before I lose count and have to start again. I glance over at the clock by my bed and sigh when I see it’s time. I slowly sit up and take one final look around my room, as this might be the last time I ever see it. As I sit here mentally preparing myself to get up, I can’t help going over the last two weeks in my head and wondering if I used my time wisely. This happens every year. The dreaded time of departure arrives and suddenly every minute before then feels wasted. Like you had the chance to make what could be your final days worth it and you didn’t use them wisely. I know I’m being silly, it’s just where my mind goes every single time. With a deep breath, I steal my shoulders, get to my feet, and exit my room turning off the light and closing the door behind me, potentially closing the book on my life as I know it. As I make it down
As my brain becomes alert, I’m aware of the unpleasant pounding in my skull and the disgusting feeling of cottonmouth. I slowly sit up and try to move my tongue around hoping to get some saliva to appear and revive the dry state of my mouth that could give the Sahara a run for its money. While trying to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth I take in the lavish room I have woken up in. It’s even more exquisite than my room last year. Deep red satin king-size bed with a gold ornate bed frame. Royal blue walls with deeper blue velvet curtains. Opulent seating and an open closet, stunning silver-grey walls with gold detailing that compliment that stunning gold ornamental ceiling with expertly detailed cornices. I guess this is the treatment winners get. Works for me. I notice a glass of water by the bed and two pills, as expected. Same routine every year. Drugs to knock you out and then drugs to help with the after-effects. I quickly down the pills with the water and get up stret
Suddenly the chatter around us becomes silent as the sound of someone tapping against a glass gets our attention. I look towards the staircase to see our host for this shit show. To competitors and guests, he is known only as the Master of Ceremonies. I only became privy to his name – unsure if it’s real or not – after my third win. I guess surviving death so many times entitles you to certain benefits, such as being able to address the Master of Ceremonies as Hexton when in private. Though I have no proof, I have a strong suspicion his name really is Hexton. With the money and power at his disposal, I highly doubt he fears any of us coming for him in our off-season. To try would be suicide. Hexton is 6’2” looking to be in his late fifties with a deep olive complexion, with a sexy yet diabolical subtle smile permanently plastered on his face. He has thick, but short salt-and-pepper hair with salt-and-pepper stubble. He’s dressed in a charcoal grey three-piece suit with a black button
I just finished my lunch, and as I place the tray on the bedside table there’s a knock at the door. I open it to find a box placed in front of my door. There’s no note or instructions, so guess they think I’m seasoned enough to not need it. I take the box inside, place it on the bed and open it to find a full lycra spandex bodysuit with my codename printed on the back. The traditional uniform of The Tournament. Every competitor is required to wear these. We are completely covered from head to toe, concealing our identities from spectators. The only part of us that is visible are our eyes, and that’s only so we can see what we’re doing. I strip down to my bra and panties, tie my hair up in a bun and slip into the bodysuit. Once I have it pulled over my head, I reach behind me and zip myself in. I’ve considered investing in one of these for some of my jobs, but I just hate the way my head is covered, and I wouldn’t mind a pair of shoes. If you’re not used to it, this can be rather suffo