Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(33)

He kissed me, so, so softly, smelling like mint and lust—if lust had a smell. “Again.”

I shook my head, trying to get free. Q’s arms banded tighter, dragging me against his rock hard erection. “Don’t test me. My strength to let you go is almost at breaking point. Push again, and I won’t be able to stop.”

“Why hesitate? That’s what you mean to do, isn’t it? Ruin me. Keep me captive. A sex slave. Treat me like some animal to use and abuse?” I whispered, but my tone crackled with anger, fierce and bright.

“I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to take from you,” he murmured. My heart stopped. His tone hinted his thoughts—remorse.

“What do you want, then?” I raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Q paused, a flutter of fingers caressed my arm, imprisoning me, then stopped as if he did so unconsciously. “You know what I want, esclave.”

My heart hurt. I couldn’t keep up. One moment he touched as if I were an irreplaceable piece of art, the next he held me as if I was a bitch needing a lesson. He shook me, growling in my ear. “I need you to say it again, then you can go.”

Two options. Two decisions. Neither was easy. Both had consequences. But, for now, I chose the one protecting my virtue for another night.

I hung my head and murmured, “Yours.”





Skylark



The next day, Suzette came for me.

I hadn’t slept a wink. The moment Q let me go, I sprinted up the stairs and into my cage.

The elements of a door and walls helped contain the rising panic attack. I pushed the chest of drawers across the door and huddled in the middle of the bed. But I couldn’t fall asleep, just in case Q came back to finish what he started.

All night, I battled with repeating nausea and a body too hot. I couldn’t evict the fright from my lungs or the shame in my heart. Not because of what Q did—touched, made me wet against my wishes—but because of the dark part that wanted him to take me. I wanted it so damn much.

Eyes remained dry, but my heart wept. Q was my punishment for making Brax so uncomfortable. The bitch, Karma, would make me live my sick fantasies—realize that I wasn’t normal, that I needed help.

My rib ached from fighting, but I poked the bone, enticing more pain. I deserved to be in agony, to pay for the sins toward the sweetest man I ever knew. A man I may never see again. Pain confronted all the nastiness harbouring in my soul. No wonder your parents never loved you. They hated you for stealing their retirement, but also because they saw what you didn’t: that you’re broken.

I was a bad, bad person and deserved my fate. I brought this nightmare with my wicked thoughts.

Q was my curse.

When Suzette arrived in the morning, she tried the door, followed by French slur and a loud knock. “Open up. You aren’t allowed to block the entry.” She must’ve leaned into the door as it opened slightly.

My eyes widened as she squeaked the dresser aside, inch by inch. Shit, if a woman her size could break my security, Q could come in whenever he damn well pleased.

Was there no way out? I’d looked out the tiny postage stamp-sized window, searching for downpipes or something to scale to the ground. But nothing could be used—trees grew too far away, and the fall looked at least five stories. Not to mention, once I managed to climb down, guards patrolled and the GPS anklet would alert Q to my location.

Suzette squeezed through the gap in the door, and placed hands on her hips. “You mustn’t do that again, esclave.”

The word conjured everything from last night: Q’s smell, his touch, his aura of power. I shuddered. I should just take my own life. It would stop the internal battle and put me out of my misery. I gulped, hating the hopelessly weak thought. Never! Shit, Tess never. Whatever happens, you can and will survive.

Suzette crossed her arms, staring. “It becomes easier.” Her voice twisted with anger, her own issues and hurt. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know she’d been through similar circumstances.

My eyes shot to her. “Was it the same for you?” Did Q break her down bit by bit, with his odd mixture of controlling and gentleness?

She shook her head, fingers digging into forearms. “Not Ma?tre Mercer. Another.” Her hazel eyes blazed then settled. She sighed, “Q is many things, but never as bad as others.”

My ears pricked. Q’s name on her tongue sounded strange. I was used to her calling him Master Mercer. What sort of relationship did they share? Not that I cared.

“Let me give you some advice.” She moved closer; I watched warily. I didn’t buy her friend act. “Let go. It doesn’t have to be forever, but allow yourself to relax. It doesn’t have to be wrong if he treats you right.”

Her words were blasphemous, but some small part of me considered it. How would it feel to forget about Tess for a while? To play a pantomime of the perfect slave. Tess would disappear and Esclave would take her place. I’d be the perfect toy, all the while searching for a way to run.

It might be best for her to think I accepted the advice. I stood, bowing my head. “You’re right. I’ll try.” How did other victims get through this? I needed a safety mechanism, something to protect my soul like a suit of armour in battle.

I’d found the protection in Mexico. I’d been ready to do anything to keep my mind whole. I just needed to do that permanently.