Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(28)

The maid appeared. Her soft smile and adoration for her employer shot me in the heart. How could she be loyal and like this man?

“Oui, ma?tre?”

“Enfermer la dans la bibliothèque. Retirez le téléphone et l'ordinateur portable. Ca comprend?”

I blinked, wishing I’d stayed with French in high school. Rusty cogs worked hard, shedding dust on a language I knew, but hadn’t used in years. Something about a library and a computer.

My eyes flashed between Q and Suzette.

She bowed. “Oui, autre chose?”

My mind sped, letting my brain stretch and remember. She’d asked if he wanted anything else. I’d never been thankful for a good memory before, but I wanted to cry with relief—I wouldn’t be completely in the dark.

Q froze, and Suzette locked him in her hazel stare. Her stance yelled protectiveness, understanding. Eyes urged him to do… what?

They stared for an eternity, involved in silent conversation, leaving me a third wheel. Finally, Q nodded, sighing, “Vous savez?” You know.

She relaxed, face full of sad acknowledgement. “Elle est différente.” She shrugged. “Ne vous punissez pas.”

She spoke so fast, I only caught different and punishment. My stomach clenched as Q glanced at me, a tortuous mix of lust and hatred in his face.

He nodded sharply, letting his guard down; eyes flared with hunger. “Oui.” His voice sent shivers across my skin.

Instinct knew before my mind. Something changed in Q. He’d given in to the battle he fought. My heart jumped from its prison of ribs, galloping around my chest. Sinister knowledge coiled through my veins. He gave up fighting. The decision shone in his resigned but tense body. Terror demanded to know exactly what he’d given in to.

Suzette looked at me with pity and hope, before disappearing into the lounge. I wanted to run after her, beg to know what was happening.

Q stood, brushing his immaculate suit and silver shirt. Avoiding my gaze, he said, “Suzette has her orders. Follow them. And, seeing as you refuse to tell me your name, you’ll be called esclave until you do. If you’re going to learn French, let that be your first word.”

Now was not the time to advise I knew enough to understand.

He went to walk around the table, but changed his mind. My skin heated as he came closer, and I sucked in a ragged breath as he pressed against me. His hard thigh connected with my shoulder. He rocked his hips, deliberately making me very aware of what was between his legs.

My mind rebelled as everything within flushed to an all-encompassing need. He was so hard and long—rigid and unforgiving. The way he loomed above sent fear fluttering, mixing with unwanted desire.

I twisted away, wincing from my rib, but the pain couldn’t stop the hatred for my traitorous body. How could I even think of desire? That was the thing—I didn’t think. My body reacted. Starved of something it needed for so long, coupled with the act of control, triggered buttons despite my terror and repulsion. Tears choked. How could I? I’m a sick, twisted freak.

Q interrupted my confusion and hatred. “Do you know that word?”

I didn’t have a clue, too involved mentally beating myself for such a horrid betrayal. Fight! Think of Brax. My heart stopped. No, don’t think of Brax.

Q captured my chin, a flare of heat clenched my stomach. “Esclave, answer me. Do you know that word?” His mouth was so close; I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

Ordering my brain to work, ignoring my sinning body, I shook my head. I did know the word: slave. But ignorance was a weapon, and I didn’t want him to know my arsenal.

I thought fast, thankful when the threads of lust blazed to hate. Yes, hate. That emotion would be my salvation whenever Q managed to turn my body against me.

My voice shook. “I am not an esclave and you are not my ma?tre. You will never be.”

His pupils dilated, and a hand shot from nowhere, wrapping around my neck. We stared nose to nose, him looming in an expensive Gucci suit. “You are my esclave. It isn’t negotiable. And consider my proposal for two options revoked. I can no longer do so.” He breathed hard with unmasked desire. “You’re mine, and I chose option one.”

I panted. I ached. Every cell erupted, dripping with black, dangerous thoughts. I struggled to remember how much I hated Q, as a carousel of emotions swirled, making me dizzy, hurtling into darkness. In the darkness lurked heat, fear, intoxication, hyperawareness.

A tear trickled down my cheek; I was ruined already.

Q growled and I liquefied deep inside. My traitorous body swelled and warmed all the while my mind revolted, spewing obscenities. How could I allow my body to betray me so completely? Why am I so f*cked up?

Q watched my unravelling in wonderment. His mouth parted, pale eyes blazing.

All of this was wrong. So, so wrong. I fell headlong into mourning.

Q ran his nose down mine, breathing deep. Something hard and tight squeezed my stomach. I didn’t move. I couldn’t move.

“I don’t want option one,” I whispered. I knew what it included: degradation, sexual torture, all manner of things one would do with an unwanted possession. Played with, toyed with, and ultimately thrown out with the trash.

Another rebellious tear escaped, and I hated the droplet with everything. It showed how weak I was, how ruined I already felt.

Q froze, watching the tear trail down my cheek, tickling heated skin. Eyes flashed to mine, and for a millisecond, I saw something human—compassion, remorse, then hunger reclaimed him and he ducked. His tongue swept over my cheek with gentle tenderness, capturing my salty remorse, then ran over his bottom lip.