Unleashed Read online

  Unleashed

  Jasmin Quinn

  Unleashed Copyright © 2020 by Jasmin Quinn. All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  Cover designed by Jem Monday Publishing

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Visit Jasmin’s website at https://jasminquinn.com/

  First Printing: June 2020

  Jem Monday Publishing Inc.

  ISBN: 9781999037185

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Epilogue

  About Jasmin Quinn

  Stay connected with Jasmin

  Books by Jasmin Quinn

  Need more shifters in your life?

  Prologue

  I am a pet. I was taken against my will when I was 11 years old. A young virgin meant to become a sex slave, sold to Adrian Lambert and brought to his house. He kept me for eight years, but he never touched me, at least not sexually.

  My job was to be his pet. I stayed with him when he was home, followed him wherever he went in the house, fetched him what he needed, sat at his feet, slept in his bed when he was alone, slept on the floor of his bedroom when he was with a lover. I fed him, attended him, bathed him. When he was entertaining his friends, I helped by serving drinks, readying his toys, cleaning him up, cleaning up after him. It was my job and I was the only one who did it.

  When he wasn’t home, my job was to prowl the house. Our house, he told me. No one watched over me and in the early days when I was still willful, I thought I could walk away at any time. That was before I understood that breaking the rules had consequences. I tested Adrian shortly after I was bought by trying to leave, but I was caught before I got beyond the front gate. Jake, Adrian’s man, stopped me and brought me back.

  Adrian had me beaten – not by him. He didn’t touch me, but he sanctioned it, determined the degree of brutality, and watched as Jake delivered the punishment.

  When it was over, he ordered me to the kitchen to prepare the evening meal and serve it to his friends and him. I could barely walk, could barely manage through my tears and Cook was not there to help. When the meal had been eaten and the dishes cleared, he made me sit at his feet for the evening, and at the end, as I cleaned him up and put away the toys, he told that the beating was a light one. Should I try to run again, I would be beaten until I couldn’t walk.

  After that, I didn’t run. Because I was afraid, yes, but also because there was no reason to. Adrian was strict with me, making me follow his rules, but he treated me well enough, or so he said. It could have been so much worse, he told me. You could have been auctioned off. Treated brutally, fucked perversely. You should be grateful. And so I was.

  He gave me what I needed to be comfortable: food, books to read, music to listen to, and materials to paint with. And he never touched me, other than to sometimes ruffle my hair or give me a small pinch or slap when I wasn’t quick enough to do his bidding.

  It was while I was still learning the rules that I lost the memories of my life before Adrian. I didn’t spend much time dwelling on where they went because I couldn’t tell the difference between real and false recollections. It’s what Adrian said when I asked about something – it was a false memory, it didn’t exist.

  Any memories I had curled and turned to ash like paper on fire. I convinced myself that I dreamt my childhood and that Adrian was and had always been my reality. It became so much easier to accept my life after that, after I let go of my dreams.

  In my real existence, Adrian was my life, the air I breathed, the food I ate. He had my unwavering loyalty. I realized that there was no better place for me to be, though I somehow knew that my term as a pet had a short lifespan, and as the years passed, I was rapidly approaching the end of mine.

  At 11, I was cute, had plump curves and the roundness of a pre-adolescent girl. But at 19, I’ve become less soft, my body thinner, my face more angular. And I have become more serious and less tolerant of anyone and everyone who isn’t Adrian.

  Chapter One

  There is bad news today. Adrian was killed, shot to death by an unknown assailant. The house is in an uproar and I’m more afraid than I’ve ever been. I never thought to consider what would happen to me should Adrian die.

  Jake, Adrian’s lieutenant, has gathered all of us together in the formal sitting room. The staff are not so many: Cook and Maid, both loyal and efficient, and Adrian’s security team – Jake and three other men, all big and serious.

  I am sitting on my knees off to the side on the floor next to Adrian’s empty chair. It is well-known that I am owned, that I have no rights, but at the same time, I am a pampered pet, not to be kicked around or abused. Not to be touched or talked to by anyone except Adrian.

  I say nothing as the men mill around and the women weep, but my brain is working overtime. I wonder what will happen to me, to all of us. No one is really talking. They appear to be waiting and so I wait with them.

  Cook has made coffee and tea and put out some food and alcohol. I don’t touch any of it. Adrian forbade me to take any food that he hadn’t explicitly sanctioned. Forbade me to eat without him.

  After an hour or so, there’s a flurry of activity at the front door and everyone who had been seated stands except me. The security men straighten; they seem somewhat fearful as deep voices and loud footsteps penetrate the funereal gloom.

  Three men walk into the room, all of them large, serious, menacing. Two of them forge a path and then step to the side as the third man stands at the centre. He’s tall, much taller than Adrian, and very big, but not fat. He’s wearing a dark suit that pulls across his shoulders and tapers to his waist, the seams of the sleeves strain against his strong arms. His brown hair is cropped short and his dark, critical eyes give the room a white glove treatment. He looks like Adrian but also not.

  “I’m Harlow.” His gravelly, arrogant voice rings in the room, making everyone stand straighter. “Who’s in charge?”

  Jake steps up, h
is lips thin, his courage strung tightly. No one has said who this Harlow is, but he speaks with such authority that Jake seems to accept that this stranger is in charge.

  Harlow’s attention flicks to Jake. “How’d he die?”

  Jake closes his eyes briefly, sadness and regret lingering on his face. “A gunman caught him at his club. Two of his friends died too.”

  Harlow nods and I see something like grief flicker briefly in the set to his mouth before he banishes it. “It was going to happen eventually. He was reckless.” His eyes sweep the room again, landing on Maid, Cook, the security men and then me. He freezes as his eyes track back to me, settling on my face.

  “Who’s this?” he says to Jake as his eyes narrow.

  “She’s Adrian’s—”

  Harlow frowns, a snarl that makes me cower. “A pet.” He steps up to me and I shrink from him as he crouches. Then he reaches out and grasps me by the chin, forcing my eyes to his. “What’s your name, kitten?”

  I react to his touch, rearing my head back. No one touches me except Adrian, no one since Jake beat me, and it unsettles me. He reaches again and I duck, shuffling backwards on my knees out of his reach. He turns to Jake, a hard glint in his eyes. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She doesn’t like to be touched.”

  Harlow straightens up and laughs like he’s heard a bad joke, but his eyes are still glued to me. “A pet that doesn’t like to be touched. Only Adrian would own something like that.”

  To the rest, he says, “Adrian has your loyalty?”

  His eyes travel slowly over the staff, reading their faces, seeing their nods, hearing their murmurs of assent.

  “Good. I expect your continued allegiance to him, and now to me.” He pauses a heartbeat, then with a tone that matches the hardness of his eyes, he adds, “Understood?”

  Quick nods around the room seem to satisfy him. “Jake will be our liaison.”

  Jake nods.

  “The women are done today.” He turns to Cook and Maid. “Your severance will be generous. You won’t have to worry about the near future.”

  “Thank you,” Maid murmurs, a simpering smile on her face that makes me gag a little.

  Harlow doesn’t acknowledge her – his eyes shift to the guards. “You all stay for a few more days. Cops will want to search the place, and whoever killed Adrian may want to drop by too.” Back to Jake. “You’ll report to me if anything weird comes up. Yeah?”

  Jake nods, his back straight like he’s being addressed by a drill sergeant. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. We may or may not have a service for Adrian. If there’s one, you’ll be contacted.”

  Harlow’s eyes settle back on me and my heart leaps to my throat. I can’t be dismissed as Adrian’s pet even if the severance is generous. I have no survival skills. But that’s not his intention. He turns to one of his men – Pudge is his name, though I’m not sure why. “Take her. She’ll come with us.”

  Pudge is not as tall as Harlow, but close, and he’s bulkier, but not fat. His big hands are like bear paws as he tries to scoop me up in his arms. I evade him by scooting backwards until my back hits a wall. His grip crushes me as he lifts me to my feet, but I dig in my heels as he tries to drag me towards the door.

  “C’mon!” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he catches me by the waist and picks me up. Panic sets in and I start to scream and flail. I’m nimble so my kicks are connecting, my twisting body hard to pin.

  Harlow laughs as he watches his man try to contain me.

  Pudge doesn’t seem to want to hurt me, but I don’t make it easy for him. He tries to get a solid grip on me, but I’m small, agile and won’t settle. His hand strays too near my mouth and I clamp down on it, capturing it between my teeth and hanging on.

  He howls and tries to shake me off, but I stay fastened until he grabs a fistful of my hair with his free hand and yanks my head back. I have no choice but to let go or he’ll rip my hair out.

  He’s mad now and backhands me across the face, but he doesn’t let me fall. The slap stops my tantrum cold, but he no longer trusts me, so ensures I’m well subdued by wrenching my arms painfully behind my back and pushing me towards the door.

  I have been beaten twice now, once because I ran and today because I was defiant. It’s a first for me because I’m never unruly. Everyone in the household knows Adrian’s rules when it comes to me – hands off. But Adrian’s dead and Harlow seems to be in charge.

  Pudge looks to Harlow, his voice a growl. “The fucking little thing’s not tame.”

  Harlow frowns as his eyes sweep me, but he says nothing.

  I have a new owner. And he doesn’t know the rules.

  Chapter Two

  It’s all strange. Adrian’s death. My brother. My business partner, though we never crossed the threshold into each other’s lives. I realize as I stare around his unique home, as I see his little pet, that perhaps I should have dropped by every now and again.

  But we weren’t friends, barely civil – two brothers who inherited the family business, who worked together to dismantle it, but off hours, we kept our distance.

  She’s kneeling when I see her, a collar clipped around her neck, and her wrists and ankles are fitted with cuffs. A cloud of long sleek brown hair falls over her shoulders almost to her waist; it hangs untidy, adding to the impression of wildness. She’s slight too, maybe an inch over five feet and thin, but still curvy. Her luscious breasts strain against the sleeveless tan shift she wears, and I can see the outline of panties against the thinness of the linen. It’s all she has on. A dress that drapes to mid-thigh. No shoes, no jewelry, no piercings, not even an ownership tattoo that’s visible.

  Why keep a thing like her? She’s feral, wild. At least I think that’s the case. I’m not sure she can speak. It’s curious to me that she belonged to my brother. She’s a woman, the wrong gender for Adrian.

  My eyes search her out and belatedly, I realize she’s a rescue. She’s Adrian’s rescue. Wherever he got her from, he made a decision to save her. I wonder how long he’s had her, what he did with her, who she used to be.

  Now she’s mine and I ponder what to do about her. I don’t deal in flesh, and I didn’t think Adrian did either. I suspect she’s never been touched. She certainly reacts like she hasn’t. And while my conscience usually doesn’t feature in my decisions, I think that Adrian may have ruined her for the sex trade, or else he was grooming her for a client. She appears to be set in her ways – trained, but not for sex and likely without the ability to expand beyond what she knows.

  Still, there’s intelligence in the depth of her gaze as she warily watches me, as she contemplates my men. She’s fearful too, but I guess I should expect that. Adrian would have sheltered her; he would’ve had to do so to maintain her innocence.

  Pudge somehow manages to get her into the car and strapped in with a seat belt, and then we head out, on the way to my house.

  Over the next few days, I’ll dispose of Adrian’s possessions, close his estate and sell it. His men can work for me if they wish. His small household staff will be compensated well for their loyalty. And the little pet?

  “What’s your name, kitten?” I ask.

  She doesn’t answer, doesn’t look at me. Her eyes are focused on her hands, which are resting in her lap.

  “Can’t you speak?”

  “I can speak,” she says softly, head bent as she twines her fingers together. She’s seated next to me in the back of my limo; Pudge and another of my men sit across from us.

  “Answer then.”

  A small hesitation, then, “Gem.”

  “Gem?”

  She nods. She still hasn’t looked at me.

  “Gem. My name is Harlow.”

  She briefly glances up at me, then back to her hands.

  “Were you Adrian’s pet?”

  She nods again and a tear slides down her face and lands on her forearm. She reaches over and subtly tries to cover it with her fingers.

 
“He’s dead.”

  Her wispy voice paints a trail of goosebumps up my spine. “I know.”

  “Are you sad about that?”

  She seems to think this over, then she shrugs, glances up at me again, this time capturing my stare with her big brown eyes.

  “Or afraid?”

  She gives a slight nod as she breaks eye contact. Her gaze lands on Pudge seated across from her and she drops her eyelids in a narrow scowl, a slight flare to her nostrils. It’s apparent she is not about to count my right-hand man among her friends.

  “Adrian let you bite others?”

  Her eyes drop to her hands, then she slides them sideways to me. She shakes her head.

  “Biting’s not allowed with me either. Do you understand?”

  She glances to Pudge, then back to me. Says nothing.

  I snap out my hand and grab her by the hair, yanking on it and forcing her head back, so she has no choice but to look at me. I see Pudge flinch from the corner of my eye and suppress a small grin. She must have gotten him good. “Do you understand?” I try for menace.