Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(84)

“Whoever took you will never take you again. Q made sure of that.” Suzette added, “You don’t believe me?”

“He said they wouldn’t take me before, but they did. He lied, Suzette. But none of that matters because he found me. It wasn’t his fault. I was the one who let life get in the way and forgot to remove the tracker. I ruined Q’s business. I brought this on myself.” My voice was a monotone, never rising with hills and valleys of emotion. “I know you think I’m being silly, but I honestly can’t talk about it. A burden shared is a burden halved, or however that stupid proverb goes. But I’m deadly serious when I say the past is in the past and I refuse to think or feel or even acknowledge what happened.”

Suzette brushed a strand of brown hair off her forehead. “I understand more than you know. And I can’t force you to step out of that safety net you’ve created. Just try and remember all the things you’re sacrificing.”

“I’m—”

She held up a hand. “Let’s not think about it. You’re strong enough to have a shower. That will make you feel ten times better.” She smiled gently. “After all, you do kind of smell like road-kill.”

My lips quirked for her benefit only, and I let her move the tray and quilt so I could stand on wobbly legs.

She helped me upright, giving me time to cough wetly as the last dregs of liquid in my lungs sloshed around.

“Every step takes you closer to being well again, Tess. And I’ll be by your side as long as you need me.”

I smiled and let her lead me onward.





Whimper and moan while I sit on my throne, we can be monsters together so we’re never alone…



I could no longer look at inane objects without wanting to smash them to f*cking pieces.

Everything pissed me off. My temper broiled constantly, and the helplessness I felt when it came to Tess crippled me.

She shut me out. She flatly refused to talk to me—to tell me what happened so I could help fight her nightmares for her. She looked at me as if I was a f*cking stranger.

I meant every word. If she gave up, gave up on herself, on us, then I had nothing left. She might as well have died in f*cking Rio. I could’ve gone rogue and killed everyone until someone put me out of my misery.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst part was the nightmares and the skull-crushing pain of a migraine that refused to break. I lived on codeine and anti-inflammatories to try and function—to make sure I was there for Tess.

My one bodily weakness was determined to murder me all while Tess ripped out my aching heart.

No matter what I did, nothing worked. I slept beside her, nursed her. I died a little inside. The beast hated seeing her so meek and broken while the man learned a new compassion for caring. But day by day, hour by hour, the passion and need I felt for her turned from lover to brother. From consumed to confused.

I knew I could no longer hurt her and the sane part of me didn’t want to. But the part of me that knew Tess would never come back wanted to kill her faster. Just so the agony would be over with.

She looked at me with such emptiness it only made me sink further into hell. I’d never be able to touch her again. Never draw blood or show her how much I cared with the use of a whip or flogger. That was all gone and I mourned for it. The beast lamented that I would never again have Tess panting in pleasure-pain, completely at my mercy. But now I mourned a deeper feeling.

I’d wrapped her in cotton wool; I’d doted on her for over two weeks. I watched as her body responded to treatment, how the bruises faded, and her lungs stopped wheezing. I stopped going to work so I could be with her every hour. I gave up my entire life to make sure I was there for her, but she didn’t want me.

She didn’t want the man with the beast who wanted to make her scream.

She didn’t want the man who cared for her so sweetly and would never hurt her.

She doesn’t want me.

Any part of me.

Frederick took over the company, and I had nothing to do with my time but lurk in my home, being confronted with so many injured and broken women. The beast inside trembled and huddled into a ball. It hated everything. It begged me to leave. To run.

Franco found me making my way outside. “Sir, the doctor and his team have finished their daily rounds for the women. Do you need them for anything else before they leave?” He came closer, eyeing me.

Franco hadn’t left me alone since damn Frederick told him to watch out for my migraines. He ratted me out to my own staff to keep an eye on me. I tore into Frederick for overstepping the line, but he just hung up on me. Bastard.

Franco always looked at me with f*cking respect; now it bordered on friendship and pity. Even after everything we’d done in the warehouse, he thought I was weak.

I f*cking hated it. I hate everything. I hate everyone. Tess did this. Tess cut out my soul and left me with nothing.

“Tell him to go. I don’t need him.” If I died of a migraine so be it. Then at last I might find peace.

“Are you sure?”

I glowered. “Don’t, Franco. Don’t ever forget your place.”

He dropped his eyes, taking a step back. “Didn’t mean to piss you off.” He left without another word, and I ploughed through the house that was no longer a private sanctuary but a convalescent home for over twenty women whom we’d flown over from Rio. I slammed the front door behind me.