Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(40)

I toppled sideways as Frederick appeared over my shoulder. “Fuck me, that isn’t good.”

He could say that again.

The evidence of what happened to Tess enraged the beast, clawing at my mind. I forgot everything but the need to plunge my hands deep into the kidnappers’ chests and rip out their f*cking hearts.

I want blood. I want corpses. I want to dance on unmarked graves for this. I wouldn’t rest until every single person involved died a slow and bone-shrivelling death.

My hand closed tight around the object of my rage, and I made an oath. I would find Tess, I would save her, and I would kill every last son of a bitch who took her.

The gentle clink of breaking glass sounded over my harsh breathing. The broken syringe sliced my palm, and one lonely drop of blood landed into a puddle of water.

The same syringe that drugged Tess and stole her away from me.

My esclave—so strong and fierce and sexually feral—was gone.

Her cage wasn’t me anymore.

It was them.





Don’t show me mercy, don’t cut me loose, I need you to tighten that noose.



“I told them to take you, esclave.

“Did you honestly think I could want you?

“You aren’t enough for me. I was kidding myself, and it’s time to end this. Time you went to an owner who wants you.”

Tears rained down my cheeks as I huddled on the floor by Q’s feet. He stood proud and regal, entirely closed off and robotic. No cares, no feelings, no love or need in his eyes.

Just pure, calculated indifference.

“You don’t mean that. You don’t. I know you, Q. I know you—” I sucked in a huge breath, sobbing at his rejection.

“It’s done. You’re dead to me.” He spun on his heel and prowled to the door. With a parting glance, he sneered, “Don’t let the wolverines shred you alive.”

The door slammed, and I was left in a pit with twigs and mud facing three pacing, starving wolverines. Looking half-wolf, half-badger, and full demon spawn, they slobbered and stalked, their yellow eyes glowing with the thought of an easy dinner.

“Q!” I screamed, scrambling backward. The wolverines twisted into dinosaur size, all of them with barcodes stencilled across their furry chests. They growled and blood spewed from their mouths, creating a river of red, lapping at my feet.

I’m in hell. I’m dead, and this is my penance.



“Stop screaming, puta. For f*ck’s sake, trying to sleep here.” Something sharp kicked my thigh, and my gritty, heavy eyes opened.

I tried to sit up, but my body no longer belonged to me. It belonged to the chemicals blocking my brainwaves. It succumbed to the sweet fog, stealing my consciousness, and evoking horror-filled nightmares.

Giving up the fight to corral my limbs into working order, I lay back. My vision was glassy, and the cracked mouldy ceiling above gaped wide and spoke in slow motion. No words. No sounds. Just speaking silently with its weird ceiling teeth.

Someone poked me in the cheek; I couldn’t do anything to stop him. He laughed. “Fuck, you’re high.”

The voice turned my heart to lead, and I fought harder to move, to get far away, but every part of my body was weighed down by whatever they’d injected into me.

Hot, cold, numbness, sensitivity. I couldn’t distinguish anything anymore.

Fingers landed on my thigh, squeezing hard. “There, there. You’ll get used to it soon. It’s a f*cking trip when you let the drugs take over.” Leather Jacket loomed above me, licking his foul lips. “You wait till we get where we’re going. I’ll make you feel real good.” He ducked and dragged his foul tongue up my neck.

I rattled with grotesqueness. Unable to move from the slime, my eyes gushed with tears. They cascaded down my cheeks, filling the shell of my ear with salty liquid. I wanted to tell him to leave me the hell alone, but my tongue was bound in lethargy.

“Dammit, Ignacio. You were told not to touch her until we arrived.”

Leather Jacket reared back, wiping his mouth with a sneer. “I didn’t touch her.” He gave me a wink. “I licked her. And I’ll be f*cking her too before the week is out.”

My heart died and rotted in my chest. This was it then. My life was over. I’d never see Q again. Never be free. My mind was shackled with chemicals; my body would become a plaything until I died of some horrible malady.

“Crap, turn her neck. I forgot to deactivate it,” Jagged Scar said.

Leather Jacket exploded into abusive Spanish, ranting and raving at him.

I tuned him out. Wishing my other senses, hearing, and eyesight would abandon me, too. Living as a blind, deaf mute would be better than living through the awfulness when Leather Jacket finally raped me.

My mind flew back to another kidnapping—being owned by Q. He’d slowly turned my eyesight, hearing, and senses against me, but he did it in a way that I accepted, wanted.

I tried to conjure Q, to find some sense of peace even while tears poured from my eyes.

Harsh fingers twisted my neck to the side, and the same iPhone-looking contraption from when I was first tagged, waved over my throat before emitting a painful shrill.

Once again, I tried to shift, to wriggle away from his grip, but nothing worked. Every command fell on fogged receptors, rendering me a vegetable.