Chapter 1: The Doll’s Dressing Room
“Doll,”
my current client calls as his maid dresses me.
I meet his eyes in the mirror. Luca Noir looks me over as the zipper on my side is dragged up. The threat of the metal teeth biting recedes with every inch gained—at least, the threat of the zipper biting me. Considering three other dolls warned me against accepting Luca’s terms and his toothy, hungry smile is focused on me, perhaps I’ll be torn apart and eaten before the night is over.
This isn’t what I normally do; it’s a step outside my norm, and I know Veronica back at the brothel is plotting revenge every hour I’m with her usual client. He likes to be rough—with his words, his illegal secrets, or his hands. He’s a specialty client for a reason. Madam loves his money, and so does Veronica, but he’s not a man capable of love or being loved.
Few men I’ve met in Danger City escape that trap when violence is a more common and easier form of displaying emotion.
Luca walks up to me as the woman dressing me skitters away. The dress I’m wearing looks like a watercolor canvas wrapped around me. The corner of the canvas lifts over my shoulder, then nearly reveals my breast. The careful folds and wrinkles add movement as it molds to my body. A bio-skin-like material covers my otherwise exposed side, and once the zipper is in place, it’s essentially invisible.
Chapter 2: The Art of Control
Luca makes a pleased sound as he looks me over. “How does it feel to play dress-up?”
“You have an eye for fashion,” I compliment.
“It’s art,” he says, looking me over before snapping his fingers. “Add the glass. She’s art tonight, and if someone touches her, I want their fingerprints.” Luca takes my hand and tugs me off the pedestal I’ve been standing on. He strokes along my cleavage, then smears purple lipstick on his lips. It’s so thick and shiny, like a slow-acting poison. When he moves his head in the light, it switches from purple to gold to green. “You’re my… toy, and I’m not going to share.”
“I’m yours all night,” I agree.
“Until I decide otherwise,” he counters. “You’re a doll. Dolls are nothing without the person moving them, posing them, and using them. Thank me for being kind enough to take a chance on you.”
I lean toward him, rubbing his chest slowly, my hands always moving closer to his neck. If he weren’t such a public figure in the underground, I could strangle him right here and now. I know how to do it. Don’t need more than my hands and the silent ‘whore’ that he wanted to call me when he said ‘toy.’ I’ve had to kill before, and my heart didn’t quicken until I watched the life drain from the man’s surprised eyes.
It’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to a real orgasm from a man.
Chapter 3: Under the Glass
Slowly, I kiss Luca’s pulse point. “You’re a good man, Luca. Your art speaks to the soul, and I am lucky to have so much of your time, the opportunity to learn more about you, to see you in action, to be in your sights.”
He groans and turns my head to the side roughly. He presses his lips to my throat, pressing hard, so he brands me with the lipstick. He slides further down my body, then bites my nearly exposed breast, growling as he digs his teeth in. His lips smear against my skin.
A panting breath leaves my throat, and I arch my head back, stroking through his hair. My eyes close, and I imagine being with someone I actually like—one of my regulars who loves to please, a man who lets me control everything.
Luca grips my chin and stares into my eyes. “You’re mine to pose, mine to instruct, and you’re going to play the perfect model for me, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Luca,” I agree.
“And you’re not going to tell anyone about my camera. I need candid shots for my… purposes,” he says, eyes flashing.
Asking questions won’t earn me more money, and I truly don’t care. Luca Noir is a known Erotic Art Photographer, but he doesn’t do it for the love of art, not really. He pretends to, like I pretend to care about his victories, like I pretend to like him because pretending is always safer in Danger City as long as it’s done well.
Luca plays with my hair, adjusts it a bit, then reaches out to put some kind of glass dress on top of me. It perfectly follows the curves and folds in the canvas on me. He offers me glass heels as well, then my makeup is done, and we head out.
Sitting in the dress isn’t easy, but I know better than to complain.
Chapter 4: The Photographer’s Exhibition
“You are to get men right on the edge of touching you. Tease them, especially the married ones, especially the dangerous ones. “
Luca Noir
“You are to get men right on the edge of touching you. Tease them, especially the married ones, especially the dangerous ones. I want them cozying up to you, purring to you, craving you, but…” He watches me, then wraps his hand around my neck. He grips my throat hard. “But you are mine. If they touch you, hold for a second, then make an excuse to come back to me.”
“Of course,” I say softly.
“Don’t die on the clock,” he says with a laugh, before helping me out of the limo. “Hang on to me like I’m the best client you’ve ever had. Worship me.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes and remember how much he’s paying. As I put my arm through his and use my free hand to stroke Luca’s bicep, I try to keep my eyes on him. I smile as I look at him, imagining tearing up every photo he’s ever taken and watching him wallow, watching him beg, offering me everything he can to keep me from doing worse. Men are best when they accept the inevitable.
We have limited control in this life, and the control we carve out for ourselves in Danger City is merely an illusion. The Watchdogs policing the streets, politics, and cameras—always keeping an eye out some way or another—could rip Luca’s world out from under him.
My gaze flicks to the blinking red eye of a camera. If it were quieter, if music wasn’t being pumped out of the door we’re heading towards, I bet I could hear the whirr of it focusing on Luca—Luca specifically, not me. I’m barely more than a fancy watch, accessory, sometimes furniture. I live as all dolls do, only existing when someone wants to claim me, show me off, use me.
Chapter 5: A Picture’s Worth
In the underground club, the lights are low except on the art pieces and photography being shown. It takes effort to keep my eyes on Luca when so much else calls to me. Splashes of colors sing like a siren’s song, daring me to look over and lose myself in scenes of pleasure, manufactured or real.
“If you know art, feel free to talk about it,” Luca says in my ear. “God, I wish I could control what you say.”
“I studied art,” I whisper. No one can exist in Shadow Haven without knowing art. It’s everywhere. The bits that make it into The Core are less controversial than what exists on walls in alleys, galleries, books, and universities. “I can compliment the right people and say the right things.”
Luca slides his hand over the back of my thigh, higher and higher until his fingers slip under the glass to trace the bottom curve of my ass. He sighs. “You’d do well as a courtesan, not just a doll. Why did I waste so much time with Veronica while you’ve been available, Lexi?”
“Because she has bigger tits?” I guess.
He laughs, loudly, drawing attention, but his gaze is sharp, a warning that I need to remember who I’m talking to. He digs his nails into my ass until I have to fight not to show I’m in pain. He swats me and motions over to one wall. “That is my work. Go look ensnared.”
I start to leave, but he pulls me back. “Fuck.”
He can’t be ordering me to do that, but I watch him all the same until I realize his eyes aren’t on me.
Chapter 6: Eyes of the Titan
I know that he wants photos that will destroy other people because that’s who Luca Noir is. He claims he wants to capture art, but he wants to tarnish reputations and make money. Luca blackmails, and his price for silence and destroyed pictures is crippling, almost as crippling as the photos he gets. And if they don’t pay, their photos end up here in private exhibitions where other artists will see it, influential minds will claim the property. He knows pictures are worth more than words; they can kill.
I look over Luca’s photos and notice that Veronica is in a number of them. I recognize the tattoo on her middle finger, even though her head is bent back and a man is sucking from her breast as if he’s an infant seeking out milk. She has her hand wrapped around the nape of his neck, guiding him to her nipple.
“Ah, Mr. Zeller. I told you he was cheating on his wife,” someone snorts.
“And with a doll,” a woman hisses. I glance over, and she clutches at her necklace as she looks me over. “A whore.”
“Fucking a commodity is barely cheating. It might as well be like having sex with a robot. It’s all those girls know. They have to be clean… unless they’re some street-level rag doll,” the man scoffs. “Those are as bad as hookers.”
The woman keeps watching me. She turns her nose up at me but can’t keep her eyes to herself. I see her lick her lips as I stroke over my chest. “I like the photo. It shows the inevitability of life—we try to ignore the urges we have, no matter how misunderstood, but they always find a way to manifest.”
They talk with me for a bit, but I look over the other photos and notice a face I didn’t expect to see. I narrow my eyes intently. Is that Elara Wolfe? Elara with Veronica? Elara biting Veronica’s bottom lip and tugging as Veronica palms the watchdog’s breasts?
“That’s…” I trail off, too shocked to pretend I’m not seeing what I’m seeing. Luca must be paying Veronica plenty to pose like this and seduce so many. For her to give up her client’s privacy like this… Madam would kill her.
Madam would absolutely ruin Veronica. She’d sell her to someone who would make a video of her death and sell that, and Madam, being the savvy woman she is, would get a cut of the proceeds to cover the lull once Veronica is gone.
“That’s an interesting photo,” a deep, cold voice says.
Ice slides along my spine, raising goosebumps. I lean back slightly to lock eyes with one of the most powerful, arguably the most powerful man in Danger City. I’ve seen him on ads, seen him on television sets. I’ve seen his face and heard his influence, felt it like an earthquake.
Orion Armitáge is a name no one wants to say, least of all to his face. I know he’s in his forties, but he takes good care of himself. His skin is still fresh, mostly wrinkle-free, and his silver hair looks more like a fashion statement than age. His nearly black eyes are still on the photo.
“It’s a problem as well. Are you the artist?” he asks.
I want to ask if I look like the artist. But Orion’s eyes focus on me, he scans me, then reaches out to touch the edge of the glass. I can’t tell him no. He’s not a person. He’s a legend. He’s… he’s a titan in every way that matters.
When he touches the lipstick and bite mark on my breast, “I see,” he says.
“Do you?” I ask softly.
“You’re artwork, not the photographer. Beautiful artwork that’s been signed,” Orion sighs, then leans forward. “And you know the doll in that photo, don’t you?”
My throat tightens. Do I protect myself, protect Veronica or…
“Mr. Armitáge, nice to see you. I see you found my accessory for the evening,” Luca says.
Chapter 7: Broken Glass, New Chains
Luca pulls me closer, stroking my shoulders in lazy circles, then whispers in my ear. “You let him touch you. You’ll be punished for that.”
My eyes focus on Luca, then on Luca’s neck. It would be so easy. I could pull this glass cage off me and beat him to death right here and now. I could call it performance art: A Doll’s Revenge.
Orion grabs Luca’s hand off my shoulder and effortlessly pulls Luca’s arm over my head, jerking him close. “You’re asking to be bit by the watchdogs with that.”
“That watchdog had a chance to make things right and didn’t take it,” Luca hisses. “And you touched my toy.”
“Your artwork?” Orion asks, not calling me a doll.
I see how he wins the public appeal with moves like that, not saying what’s obvious, what’s right in front of everyone. There are other people glancing over, but when a watchdog steps up, hand on his hip like he’s ready to kill anyone who looks too closely, the watchers back away.
“Give me the picture,” Orion orders.
“Pay for it, and I will,” Luca counters. “Kill me in front of the whore I’ve only paid half for right now, and you’ll answer to the madam.”
“I could break her, kill her right here,” Orion says, voice just as icy. He doesn’t sound angry, doesn’t even sound bothered. He’s just speaking, giving orders as needed, and clearing the air as necessary.
“I’d have to pay for that,” Luca informs angrily.
“Yes, you would.”
I glower and reach between my breasts, where I have a single needle. I’m done with this. I’m a Doll, not a toy, and I need to remind both of these men what I’m capable of. Luca looks at me, but before he can say anything, I plunge the needle into his neck and press, injecting him with the fluid.
Luca stares at me like I betrayed him. I arch an eyebrow. “I’m not a toy, and you’re not paying me enough to argue with a Titan.” I step closer into him, catching him as his legs give out. “What’s an artist to an emperor? I’m betting it’s a steeper difference than doll to conman.”
I set Luca against the wall, turn around, grab the photo of Elara, and tear it down the middle, giving the half with the woman of the hour to Orion. I pant as I rip up the other one and glance at the wall, almost wanting to ruin the entire exhibition.
“This will get Veronica killed,” I murmur.
Orion continues to watch me, then looks me over. “Take off the glass piece.”
I turn to face him and narrow my eyes. “I’m sweet when I’m paid, obedient when paid well, and you’ve done neither. Your name got me to knock out my client, which means I get nothing.”
Orion smirks, then smears the lipstick marks that Luca left on me. Orion collars my throat, then turns my chin so I look at something the watchdog is holding up. “We’ve already hacked his camera feed to the doll’s room.”
My eyes widen as I watch Veronica preparing a poison.
“She’s going to kill you,” Orion informs. “So you can go back home and face the wrath of your madam and a jealous whore whose favorite client is about to have a very nasty temper or…”
Chapter 8: The Titan’s Deal
I watch him. I pull the glass dress off, exhaling as much as possible to free myself from the glass dress. Orion looks at it, then at me. He raises his voice. “Anyone interested in a live performance that talks about society, gather.”
A large group of people gathers around as I hold up the glass dress, then slam it against the ground. It shatters, cutting me, Orion, and some of the too-close onlookers. I’m left in canvas and nothing else. Some expensive old watercolor piece done by an artist long forgotten to time. Now only the stylist will take credit.
Orion watches me as blood rolls down my shin and over my cheek. He leans forward and licks it. “You’re my doll now. You broke what caged you, and your madam is going to assume Luca killed you. He’ll pay the necessary fee, and you will be moving.”
“Out of Shadow Haven?” I ask.
“And into Umbra City, where we will do very well,” Orion says while freeing my hair. Others clap at the performance they believe is being put on. He raises his voice. “Dolls are more than a commodity. They’re an asset for those who can afford them. And everyone has a price, what’s yours… Lexi?”
Hesitating, I feel him grip my hair, forcing my back to arch. “It’s bad form to discuss price in public unless you’re buying a toy.”
“And you’re no toy, are you?” he asks.
I lick over my bottom lip. Orion motions to a side table, and we sit there together. I feel mostly naked, but Orion doesn’t offer me a coat. He doesn’t offer me anything; he just watches as he drinks.
“Have you had experience with dolls?”
“I’m not a passionate man, and I deal with the things I need to deal with when I need to deal with them,” he answers. “You’re a person, and you’re clearly one worth having. I’d rather you collect something beyond sex from clients. You can tell them they’re terrible in bed and show them how they should have pleased you, you can be rough with them, I’ll even give you some to kill.”
“What makes you think—”
“I saw the look in your eyes when you stared at Luca’s throat. Killing is good stress relief; it gives you control. And I’ll give you multiple ways to ruin people. With your own hands and by turning others against them,” Orion offers.
I rub over my bottom lip and sit up straight. “I could do well in Umbra City. So many secrets I can pry with cuddling, fucking, teasing.”
“You’ll be on salary as long as you take five clients off my list a week,” he informs. “Anything else you make is yours to keep entirely. All I want… the only thing I want from you are secrets.”
“Take a page from Luca’s book,” I murmur.
“There are cameras so small and easy to hide now. One in the corner, one by the bed, some microphones. I’ll turn them on whenever I take care of your clients. But I’ll need a place to service them. A wardrobe since the classier the man, the more primal and demanding they are in bed.”
The corner of Orion’s mouth lifts, and he taps the table twice. We’re both given drinks. He raises his glass to mine. “Better than a doll, aren’t you?”
“I’ll be a better spy,” I promise.
We both drink, and he leans forward, rubbing my chin. “I can’t wait for them to teach you how to get away with murder.”
“Who says I need to be taught that?” I ask with a growing smile. Dolls always find their way to the hands of the person who knows how to handle them, even if it takes some work, some murder, and going above the job description.
“We can have a very lucrative relationship, sir.”
“I look forward to it, Lexi,” he says. “We’re starting tonight.”
Chapter 9: A Doll’s New Game
Never a night off, but now I’ll be doing more than faking orgasms and sympathy. I’ll be able to deliver people to death one way or another. It’s the kind of power I’ve always craved, and all it took was befriending a Titan to get it.
