Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(97)

I pulled back, scrambling off the bed. She’d successfully cut off my legs, tore out my heart, and left me for dead.

“Sparrow?” I repeated; my voice cracked.

She looked straight into my eyes. “Sparrow, Q. I’m so sorry.” Her eyes dropped to where my shirt had come undone, zeroing in on my tattoo. She inched forward onto her knees, beckoning me to go closer.

I couldn’t move, rooted to the spot. She just used the safe-word and expected me to come back to her?

The monster inside no longer lived in the realm of sanity—it tore its flesh, yanked at its head—wishing there was a way free from this nightmare.

When I didn’t move, Tess climbed over the rumbled bedding and stepped toward me. Her tiny hand flashed out, tracing the sparrow over my nipple, the highest one—the one flying free.

“They made me hurt others. They made me break them. I’m not a good bird anymore. I don’t know how to live with that. I’m empty. I’m lost. And time won’t heal me. I can’t give you what you need anymore and I wish I could.” Her voice was breathy, tortured. I tried not to listen or believe. This was it. This was the end.

“You don’t mean that. You’ll come back from it. Let me help you.” My mind filled with images of tying her up, whipping her until she remembered who she was. I’d kill her trying if it meant she’d be mine again. “I’ll do anything you ask of me. Just give me more time.”

“I’m leaving in the morning, Q. I’m sorry.”

“Tu ne vas aller nulle part putain!” You’re not f*cking going anywhere! I shoved her backward, watching detachedly as she sprawled on the bed. Why didn’t she wince or show pain from her injuries? Was she so far gone she didn’t feel her body either?

The beast inside roared, determined to find out. I struck with my fingers, dragging my nails down her leg.

Four lines of blood sprang and still nothing. Tess just lay there, breathing normally, looking so remote.

“Tess, doesn’t do this to me!” I reached for her again—to do what, I didn’t know. Hit her, hug her, spank her, caress her—anything would be better than nothing.

Arms bounded around me, hauling me back.

Frederick muttered in my ear, “She said no, Mercer. There’s nothing you can do.”

I struggled, f*ck I struggled, but Frederick was strong. His arm tightened, muscles digging into my collarbone as he dragged me further from Tess.

The last image I saw was Tess sitting cross-legged on the bed with her long blonde hair drifting around her and her lifeless grey-blue eyes watching me go.

There was nothing else to say.

It was done.

Over.

Finished.

Every single door in my mind, every wall and barrier I’d ever created, slammed back into being. I compartmentalized my needs and humanity, removed myself from the equation. I shut down so efficiently, so coldly, I was left wondering if I was a psychopath.

Tess was gone.

Frederick loosened his hold on me. “I’m sorry, man.”

I didn’t say a word as I stalked away.

Away from the slave I fell for.

Away from my very existence.





Tie me, tease me, let your pleasure please me. Hurt me, love me, but please don’t leave me...



The moment the door shut behind Q, I started to shake.

I used the safe-word.

A word that shattered Q and ruined the final connection between us. I never thought I’d have to use it, but when he kissed me, pouring all the love and need he had for me, I couldn’t function. I couldn’t be the cause of such agony.

Nausea sat thick and heavy in my stomach. I wished I could take it back. I wanted to run after him and promise I’d figure out a way to come back. Offer him the chance to beat it out of me, to submit completely into his control, but the longer I sat there, the more leaden I became.

The guilt and ghosts and pain roiled like a storm-whipped sea. Smashing against the walls of my tower, trying to drown me and take me straight to hell.

“Think of me. Think of me dead and rotting in the ground.” Blonde Hummingbird broke my fortress, ripping my heart into pieces. “You put a bullet in my brain. You’re the reason I have so many broken bones.”

The guilt opened its eager jaws, sucking me deep.

Gritting my teeth, I fought back. I trembled as I added yet another layer of bricks to my tower. “I’m sorry. I can’t!”

A memory swamped me. Something I’d suppressed—something I didn’t want to see.

“Go on. Do it.”

I no longer had the strength to even mentally disobey. Shuffling forward, I dragged the knife down the blonde girl’s arm.

“Cut it off. Call it stocktake and we no longer need that merchandise.”

The girl trembled, shaking her head, her lips working the thick rag in her mouth. The straps around her body kept her still while I grabbed her wrist and circled the barcode tattoo with the blade tip.

The drugs confused me. Why was I cutting off this tattoo? It must be important—but maybe I should cut off my own, too?

“Do it, puta. Or I’ll just chop off her arm.”

I pressed the tip of the knife around the outline of the tattoo, letting the sharp metal slice a border even as red blood rained.

The girl thrashed and cried and I flickered in and out of drug-consciousness.