Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(30)

I rushed closer and took his palm, squeezing it hard. “I’d never refuse you anything. I’m just not used to something so…normal from you.” I gave him a shy smile, linking my fingers with his until we were locked together.

Holding Q’s hand was so completely different to anything I’d experienced. Brax used to hold me sweetly, our palms a little sweaty—a boy and a girl fumbling with growing up.

Q held me with possession, and the rough-softness of his skin set my teeth on edge and my pulse catapulting. He was pure man. A dominant male who expected explicit compliance, all the while searching for a thread of retaliation. A complete contradiction—a man with two desires.

He held my heart, rather than my hand.

Q tugged me closer until our hands were wedged between our torsos. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered.

I gulped, drowning in his citrus and sandalwood. Most of the time we fought with dagger and claw, and yet in that moment, the intensity simmered to flowers and petals.

For the first time ever, our connection was sweet.

“Don’t go dreamy eyed on me, Tess. I’m feeling sentimental. That’s all. Don’t get used to moments like this. You’ll be sorely disappointed.” He untangled his fingers from mine and stalked into the building, leaving me shocked and alone.

Had I done something, or had Q realized how tender the moment was and freaked? I guessed the second one was more likely.

I had a good mind to steal Franco’s gun and hold Q hostage so I could stand a chance of getting into his head. Every time I was close to breaking through, he ruined it.

Sighing, I entered the open and airy office and froze on the spot.

Ice.

Terror.

Utter, heinous foreboding.

My limbs locked in place, and my instincts blared on high alert. The message was simple:

Run.

Run far, far away, and don’t come back.

Run, Tess!

It was the same body-steeling compulsion that made me so afraid in Mexico. My body quaked as I locked my legs from turning around and throwing myself off the building.

Q didn’t matter. The sun or knowledge that nothing evil resided here didn’t matter. All I saw was darkness and blackness and the stench of death.

Run!

I cried out, clamping a hand over my mouth, crumbling into a ball.

“You’ve got nice tits. You can’t hide them forever. Get in the shower and wash your filth.” Leather Jacket’s voice roared into my head. My healed rib bellowed in memory of him kicking me.

“Accept that you are no longer a woman. You are merchandise. And merchandise must have a barcode for sale,” Jagged Scar muttered, just as the pain of the tattoo gun shredded my wrist.

No! Stop.

I’m safe. I’m safe. It’s not true.

“Shit, Tess. What the f*ck?” Q plucked me from the ground, hoisting me off my feet. Cradling me, he carried me further into the building before sitting on a white canvas couch.

Let me go. I couldn’t be there. I couldn’t. Ice cubes lived in my blood, greyhounds raced in my legs, wanting nothing more than to sprint.

I tried to get my panicked breathing under control, but my mind was back in Mexico, back with countless other women whose fate might have ended by now. I wanted the *s who took me to die. I wanted to be the one who stole their lives, just like they stole others.

“Tess. Tess!” Q’s voice was far away and I latched onto it, gulping in oxygen, swimming hard against the panic.

Something fierce and hot struck my cheek; it helped chase my nightmares back into the depths.

Q rocked me, crushing me against his powerful chest. “That’s it, esclave. Come back to me. Don’t you dare f*cking leave me.”

My ear pressed against his suit and the loud rush of his pounding heart brought me back to reality. I sucked in one last wavering breath and opened my eyes.

I tensed, waiting for the room to send me reeling back into a psychotic breakdown, but it stayed bright and airy and completely innocent.

Q froze, letting me go, watching me with piercing eyes. “Est ce que ?a va ?”Are you all right?

When I didn’t answer, he launched into a string of angry French. “C'est quoi ce bordel, esclave? Est-ce que tu peux me dire pourquoi tu as eu cette absence? Est-ce que tu me caches quelque chose? Tu as besoin d'aide? Pourquoi tu ne me dis rien!” What the f*ck happened, esclave? Care to tell me why you had a breakdown? Have you been hiding this from me? Do you need help? Why didn't you tell me!

I flinched against his anger, hanging my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” Images of Suzette suffering her own attack flickered into my mind. “Maybe it’s an episode? You know, leftover feelings from my past?”

He scooted me off his lap and onto the couch. The moment he was free, he moved to sit on the coffee table, shoving away large folders and binders.

He kept his hands to himself, almost as if he couldn’t touch me without wanting to break me in half.

“Have you had them before?” His nostrils flared, his entire frame trembling with aggression.

I shook my head, telling the truth. I’d never suffered so violently before. Sure, I had nightmares of the kidnapping and rape, but Q was always there to save me. This was entirely new.

I hated the feeling of being so afraid. I cursed Brax for taking me into the café and for not being strong enough to save me. I wanted to tear each bastard who hurt me into little tiny pieces. I wanted their hearts on a stick. I wanted to live without the awful memories.