Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(39)

I cocked my head, wondering, but not caring, why he pulled away. I’d done everything right. “Did I not please you?” My voice was odd—dead, lifeless, robotic.

Q froze, running hands over short hair. His darker skin whitened with what looked like fear. “What are you?” he demanded.

I didn’t hesitate. I knew the answer. It was easy. “Yours.”

He sucked in a breath, eyes flaring wide. He paced in front, never taking his gaze off mine. “You said you wouldn’t let me! You seemed so strong, unbreakable. You lied to me.” He bristled with anger. “I haven’t even f*cked you, yet you’re broken.” Guilt etched his livid tone.

I stayed unruffled, unworried. He raged because he broke me? Wasn’t that his goal? He should be pleased it took such little time. I thought I could last longer, but my mind no longer wished to fight. I refused to scream and cry when I found solitude and calm. Could he only get off on the sounds of distress?

I had no answer so I dropped my eyes, staring at my bound hands, waiting.

He stalked forward, undoing the tie around my wrists in angry movements. “You lied and I don’t like liars.”

I shrugged. What was there to say? He owned me—he could call me what he wished. “I’m yours. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

He shook his head, temper flaring. “You’ve given up. You aren’t mine unless I make you mine!”

My mind hurt. I couldn’t unravel that. I was his. Undeniably. He knew that. My body screamed it loud enough.

“Take off your sweater.” His eyes dropped to the weight of my breasts under the jumper. Rather than excitement, fear, anticipation, I felt nothing—heavenly nothing. He towered above like the God of sex, his erection straining against his trousers, calling to me.

I grabbed the hem and tugged the sweater over my head in one swoop. I stood and reached for his waist. His skin burned as I touched his hipbone.

His breath came faster, looking hungrily at my bra. It was so nice not to feel. If Brax watched me the way Q did, I’d have hidden my stomach, worried about the birthmark in the valley of my breasts, worried if he loved me even with flaws. Here, I didn’t care.

“Give me your bra.” He held out a hand, waiting. His jaw worked as I reached behind and unclasped the lacy cups. I dangled it between my forefinger and thumb, passing it to him. My nipples pinpointed and ached. His gaze thrilled my body, heating my vacancy into need.

Not looking away, Q’s fingers latched around my hand, accepting the bra. His thumb caught my barcode tattoo; the burn made me wince. The tinkle of delicate silver summoned his eyes and he frowned.

Brax’s bracelet.

The void I floated in evaporated. Memories roared back.

Brax.

Mexico.

Pain.

Leather Jacket.

My mind woke, latching onto things I wished I could forget. No. No, stay. Don’t go back.

Q’s jaw tightened as I tugged my hand back, skin crawling. How did I come to be only in my knickers, standing in front of him? Everything was foggy; a dream I couldn’t quite grasp.

Q snapped his fingers around my wrist. Leaning forward, he peered deep into my soul. His thumb played with the bracelet, sending the cool silver spinning. “Who gave you this?”

My breathing accelerated; I gulped. Don’t answer.

But I didn’t need to answer. His face flashed with triumph, body settled into a taunting stance. “Someone you care about gave you this. Do you think I should let you keep it?” He tugged and the metal bit into my skin. Any more pressure and he’d snap it.

Tess, go back. Leave and float. Who cares about a bracelet? He can have it. Brax can buy you another.

My heart stuttered to a slamming halt. But if Brax died back on the bathroom floor, I’d never get another. It was the only thing I had left.

Fight ruptured and I attacked. My nails swiped his cheek as I barrelled into him. I screamed as we fell to the floor. Q yelled something and snatched at my wrist. The silver tried to stay intact, but broke with a tiny clink, landing on the carpet beside Q’s head.

Brax!

I yelled and shoved. Q covered his face as I went savage, reaching for the ruined jewellery. Throat tight, I lunged, but Q was too fast. He rolled so I ended up beneath him on the grey carpet. He pinned my arms with effortless power that made me hate him more. How could I think I could beat him when he subdued me like an annoying butterfly?

Licking his lips, passion raged on his face. “There you are. Don’t switch off again. I forbid it.”

I was back to this horrible life, I fought. My hands curled and bucked, hating how my naked breasts jiggled as I tried to get free.

Q grunted and sat up, straddling me, cupping my breasts. “What is your name?” His lips pulled back from his teeth as he twisted my nipples sending shocks of pleasure-pain through my system. “What is your name, goddammit? Tell me.”

I glared with every dagger of hatred inside.

Silence.

My tongue knotted against ever saying my name again. It was mine. Not his. I never wanted to hear him say it. “Never!”

Q shuddered with a mixture of unnamed emotion and slapped me. My eyes smarted as heat hurt with embarrassment, rather than pain. He f*cking slapped me!

“Merde!” he swore. Standing, he scooped the bracelet from the carpet and dangled it above. “This is mine. You are mine. Get that through your head if you ever want it back.”