Текст книги "Twisted Together"

Автор книги: Pepper Winters

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 33 страниц)

Chapter Five

Bind our twisted perversions, love me dark, leave your mark. love my faults and imperfections

 My night and day, my moon and sun, your light turns my black to glittering grey

“Do it, puta!”

I’d held off as long as I could. I’d fought and raged and been beaten for my troubles. But I couldn’t disobey any longer.

I pulled the trigger.

The bullet lodged inside Blonde Angel’s forehead.

With a whoosh of black swirls and icy wind, the dream unlatched its claws from my subconscious. Winds buffeted as Leather Jacket and blood and dead women snuffed out. I sailed up, up, up through the grotesque memories and back to reality.

Only this time. I didn’t wake up to Q’s arms around me and his kisses in my hair.

I woke up to a fate worse than death.

My instincts understood before my mind, dousing me in howling fear.

It’s happening again.

It was dark. Quiet. Serene. A lie. The worst kind of lie.

I’m not safe!

Heavy masculine breathing brushed my face as two large hands exploded through the shadows—reaching for me, going for my eyes.

No!

In an awful second, time screeched to a halt and two things happened. Two major things that showed just how much I’d changed from when they’d taken me in Mexico.

The first was I shut down.

I switched off.

All the passion and rage and spirit when I fought Leather Jacket was replaced with cold calculating numbness. For a moment all I wanted to do was give up. To let my heart cease its ragged beat and let the inevitable happen. After all, fighting didn’t work.

How many times must fate slap the same lesson in my face before I understood giving up was my only option?

Darkness even worse than night stole my eyesight. Something cool and slightly slimy was pressed over my face. The brush of strong hands on my ears made my skin crawl—the pressure of the blindfold sent my heart into a fulcrum, spinning faster than anything before.

Give in. Just give in.

I sent the message to my muscles: relax. Time for evil to win. But something stopped me from being a victim. Something deep, too deep to switch off.

And that was the second thing. Smashing away the weakness of prey, filling me with fire. Energy I no longer knew swirled from nowhere, seesawing my emotions between complete submission and rage so brittle and blizzard-cold, I no longer knew myself.

Fight. Kill. Or die trying.

My instincts catalogued everything. My attackers position, his breathing, the pressure of the blindfold on my eyes. His knees were on either side of my waist, the only weight came from his hands on my temples, holding the blindfold in place. The mattress dipped as he shifted.

I stayed prone and frozen, even while I sparked and conducted a battle inside. A battle of acceptance or murder.

My hands curled, calling forth the reckless survival I’d always tapped into. Half of me lamented—give in! Fate would never let me be free—I would never deserve Q. I couldn’t afford to keep paying these unpayable tolls. But the other half couldn’t give up. It wasn’t in my genetic code to allow something so precious to be stolen.

A never ending second ticked past where my heart whizzed faster and faster until my chest bled with fear. Neither of us moved. No needle was shoved into my arm; no curse was sworn in my ear. It was as if he waited. Paused to see what I would do.

A test then?

A test to see if I’d finally become the perfect possession to be traded. Had White Man won after all? Had he broken me by letting me believe in the falsity of safety?

The epitome of brokenness was no longer caring. No longer functioning. No longer willing to exist.

Am I broken?

The blunt question sliced through my brain—taunting me with the weakness of the word.

The ultimate question was did I want to die?

I don’t want to die.

Did I want to live?

I don’t want to live like this anymore.

I grew hotter. Madder.

They’d taken everything. They’d taken too much. And yet they’d come back for more.

It isn’t fair.

I filled with resentment. Furiousness.

What are you going to do about it?

The confusion inside grew hot, evaporating to steam, billowing faster and faster with anger.

I won’t. I won’t be broken.

I was stronger. I was a fighter. I would die being true to myself.

I was livid. I was rabid. I went insane.

My mouth opened; I screamed, “Not this time, you fucking asshole.” The tense moment shattered, raining around us in shards as I switched.

The frozen victim became a crazed warrior. I wanted his blood.

The man grunted in shock; his hands grabbed chunks of my hair—keeping my head locked against the mattress.

The pain in my scalp was nothing. Did he think I cared about a little agony after everything I’d been through?

Jerking manically, I screamed again, tearing the follicles free from my scalp. The pain reminded me of something I’d forgotten. Something I should never have taken for granted.

 I’m Tess Snow.

And I would survive or die. I was done just existing.

The grip on my hair fell away. Fumbling hands tried to tie the blindfold behind my head, but I would no longer make it easy for him.

My hands flew up, connecting with a bristle-covered jaw. The facial growth shot an image of Q into my head. Where was he?

My heart ruptured and tore and shattered into useless pieces. They’ve hurt him. They’d stolen him—that was why he wasn’t there to save me. The thought of never seeing Q again was the last of my undoing. I was free. Utterly free from everything but that moment.

“You hurt him!” My fingers curled, turning  nails into weapons as I dragged them down his face. “I’ll make you pay.”

My assailant reared back but I moved with him, slicing, swiping, connecting with his face, neck, and throat. His arms came up, knocking my hands away, but he didn’t pounce or pummel me into unconsciousness.

I didn’t know why he hesitated, but it would cost him. Never again would I let them take me. I either won this or I died. Two options and I didn’t really care which one.

The man’s legs stayed pinned on either side of me, squeezing, trying to keep me from wiggling free, but he didn’t have what I had: the clarity of destiny.

My mind turned blank. The fear of what had happened to Q disappeared. All I focused on was killing.

With curled hands, I struck anywhere I could. His chest, his thighs, his jaw. Each strike was met with an angry growl but no retaliation.

His hands tried to capture my wrists, but my anger made me a flailing mess to catch. The world spun and spun as I sucked in too much air.

White-noise crackled, roaring in my ears, deafening me to everything but my strumming heartbeat.

The sheets wrapped around my legs as I kicked and squirmed. His weight kept me trapped, so I did the only thing I could—I launched upright and head-butted him.

Stars.

Shooting stars. Comets. Fireworks.

Bright light replaced the darkness of my blindfold as our skulls clacked together.

The man groaned, cursing low. He rolled off me, dropping off the bed.

The instant I was free, I ripped the blindfold off. Not that it helped in the dark. Instead of running, I attacked.

Throwing myself onto the floor, I latched onto his back, punching everywhere I could. The pain in my knuckles was vengeance.

He reached behind, grabbing my naked flesh to toss me off him. The carpet cushioned my fall. I kicked hard as I could in his direction. My bare foot connected with something far more perfect than a knee or thigh. It hit his prized possession.

“Fuck!” he roared.

My body stuttered just for a moment. That voice. Then white-noise stole me again, keeping me focused on my task. I shook my head. I refused to listen. I wouldn’t listen. Not to lies or promises or even the voice of the man who I loved more than anything. It wasn’t his voice. It couldn’t be, and I refused to be side-tracked from murder.

“Fucking bastard. What did you do? Where is he?” The anger and sheer-minded confidence was like a long lost lover, cocooning me with belief—belief I could win. How had I been so weak? How did I forget this velvety power of self-reliance?

I laughed suddenly. I was grateful.  Even though I would kill him. He’d returned to me what I thought was lost forever.

Not one tear leaked from my eyes. Not one plea or beg. I was free.

Then a body collided with mine, slamming me against the floor. His hard form stole the breath from my lungs. My strength and fire flickered, sucking me back into tameless horror.

I went berserk.

Legs, arms, fingers—my entire body became a weapon.

“Fuck me,” he grunted, his voice hidden by the rage roaring in my ears.

Expect it. Any moment.

I tensed for pain. I knew it was coming. He hadn’t hit me yet, but he would. I’d drawn blood—I tasted it in the air. I’d made him angry—I felt it in his fingers as he tried to stop my flailing fists. He would strike and soon.

Kill him!

“Let me fucking go!” In a twist and a huge surge of power, I knocked his hands away and slapped him. My throat burned I breathed so hard.

“Fucking hell, stop!”

Stop? And make his kidnapping easy? As if.

I kicked, grinning with delusion when something crunched beneath my foot. Suddenly, he let me go, his body climbing off mine. I yelped as a hand wrapped around my ankle, dragging me toward the table at the bottom of the bed.

“No!” Carpet burn scalded my back. I tried to jerk out of his grip, but his fingers bit harder.

Something skidded off the table, slamming to the floor.

“Goddammit.”

That voice again. My heart lost its violent rage, coughing with confusion.

Then his body was back on mine, slamming my head down, planting a palm over my mouth. This was it. He’d inject me with something and steal me away. My chance to either die or kill would be taken from me.

He spun me onto my stomach, pressing my face against the carpet. With a sharp knee wedged in my lower back, he wrenched my arms behind my back, wrapping something unyielding but soft around my wrists.

Our harsh breathing filled the room. I wriggled, kicked, did everything I could but my female form was no match for his brute muscle. Adrenaline had made me strong but not strong enough.

The moment my wrists were bound, he climbed off me, leaving me gulping back tears and rage.

Every last inch of energy swirled in my chest—ready to fight and fight and fight, but a switch clicked on, drenching us with light.

Light.

Beautiful, all-seeing light.

Black-clad legs stalked past my vision. I couldn’t understand.

The legs folded to kneel beside me, flipping me onto my back. My eyes locked onto my kidnapper. Onto my lover, protector, husband to be.

The adrenaline disappeared with a bang, drenching my muscles in disbelief.

Q panted above me, his face an unreadable mask. His hot palm slammed over my lips as he dragged his other hand through his hair. His eyes were wild. “Fucking hell. I’ve lost my fucking mind.”

 And just like that the freedom from pain and past was gone. I snapped back to the Tess who no longer knew how to fight. I shivered as everything hot and true abandoned me.

My gaze flared wide. Had he finally snapped and embraced the darkness I always knew lived within him? Was he sleepwalking? What the hell is happening?

Fear overshadowed everything; another shiver went through me. I wanted to speak but he never released my mouth. I wiggled, trying to convey my wishes in my gaze.

Let me go! Talk to me!

Q’s eyes blazed. “Don’t move, Tess. For God’s sake and all that’s fucking holy. Do. Not. Move.”

Forcing my breathing to slow, I obeyed.

Even though every molecule inside pinged and ricocheted, I lay like a corpse as Q menaced above like some son of the underworld. Dressed all in black he looked like a deliverer of death himself.

He shut his eyes, slowly removing his hand from my mouth. Dragging it over his face, he sucked in a gulp, then another. Blackness shimmered around him. “I didn’t think you’d fight. I thought you’d be too broken to fight. Goddammit, if I knew you’d be so strong—that it would affect me like this—shit.”

Suddenly, he hurled himself upright and slammed his fist into the wall. “Shit, shit, shit.” He stumbled to the bed, sitting heavily. His splayed legs cradled his head as he rolled forward, grabbing his messy hair with white fingers. “A quoi je pensais, putain?” What the fuck was I thinking?

I didn’t move. I didn’t speak. I had no idea what was going on.

Q trembled with his head bowed, his large body locked with whatever issues he fought.

I didn’t know how much time passed but the room returned to its peaceful silence. My shoulders and wrists ached from lying on them. Twisting my aching body, I managed to clamber to my knees. Shuffling forward, I whispered, “Q—”

Q held up his hand. “Don’t come near me, Tess. Not yet. This was a big fucking mistake. How did I think I could do this to you when it’s too close—scarily close to…” He didn’t continue but I knew his thoughts as clearly as if he’d spoken them.

It was scarily close to all the badness inside him—the true fantasy. The ultimate wish to steal me away and use me. No consent. No love. Just pure dominance.

Inching my way across the carpet, I didn’t care about my nakedness or even the goosebumps covering my skin. A metre separated us and all I wanted was to go to him. It was imperative we fix this. Otherwise, it had the power to destroy us.

“Q…”

A minute ticked past, then five, then ten. Finally, his back straightened. He smoothed his hair with shaky hands, looking up. His face was colourless, eyes wild and deadly. “I’m out of my mind.” His lips curled in a cold smile. “I’m—God, I don’t even know anymore.”

I’d never seen him so lost—so threatening but unsure. His gaze begged me to forgive him while his body stiffened with self-hatred.

“You’re not out of your mind.”

Q snarled, “I am.” He punched himself in the chest. “How else do you explain my reasoning to do what I just did? How could I? To you—my God, Tess, you’ve already been through so much without me putting you through more. Fuck!” He punched the mattress, his knuckles pounding the sheets.

I shifted closer, welcoming the heat of his anger. “Whatever you were trying to do, it was for the right reasons.”

Q snorted, looking manic. “The right reasons? And what if I can’t remember it? What if I got so caught up, I let you think they’d come back for you? What sort of fucked-up bastard does that?” He shook his head, breaking eye contact. “You don’t know what it felt like. Having you fight me—truly, truly fight me. You were so fucking fierce, and I wanted nothing more than to take you hard.”

His hand fell to grip between his legs. “I want you so fucking bad, esclave. It’s tearing me up inside to even admit that—admit to wanting to take you by force, especially after what happened today.”

His lips pursed; he shook his head with weighty sadness. “Les bonnes raisons ...merde...” The right reasons…shit…

 My heart rabbited at the immense pain in his voice. Whatever he’d been trying to do, I hated to think of him so lost. He had blood on his hands for me. It was a debt I would never be able to repay. If he wanted to take me—to crave the lust inside—then I’d let him.

Cursing my bound hands—needing to hold him and offer forgiveness, I inched closer. “Tell me. What were you going to do?”

He laughed suddenly; it was laced with dark disbelief. “That’s the screwed-up thing. I didn’t have a complete plan. I was working on instinct—trying to help you.” His eyes locked onto mine. “I want to fix you.”

My heart softened, weeping at his confession. “You are fixing me. Every day you’re helping by being you. You have to believe in yourself.”

Q muttered something. I didn’t push him to repeat, and the room fell into a hushed silence once again.

Another block of time passed while we sat in our own thoughts.

Q finally said, “No matter how many ideas I chase, they all lead back to one.” Sitting taller, he straightened his shoulders. “If I said I might have a way to stop your nightmares, would you let me do it?” He stared hard, eyes probing deep. “Would you trust me, even though I can’t promise I can control myself? Would you still let me try?”

I didn’t need to contemplate. We both knew we were at the end. There would be no going forward unless we accepted our demons and began working together to abolish them. We’d been kidding ourselves up to this point—believing in a future that didn’t exist.

My voice rang true. “Absolutely.”

Q sighed heavily. “You give me too much, Tess.”

“I’ve given you my soul.” I shrugged to show how little it truly was. “It’s yours, Q, because I’ve taken yours in return.”

His mouth stayed silent, but his eyes let me glimpse just how tortured and savage he truly was. He had a personal vendetta against my nightmares. Whatever he had in mind wouldn’t be conventional, approved, or even safe, but confidence slowly replaced my panic.

If I said yes, it would be exactly as if I’d been taken all over again. Two options: live or die. Survive or give-up.

Q took a deep breath. Unfolding himself from the bed, he stood on long muscular legs, dressed in tailored black. “Tu me fais confiance, esclave?” Do you trust me, esclave?

The question was loaded with so much unsaid. I did trust him. But there was still part of me that feared him.

“Yes,” I whispered.

Q’s hands curled. “Another lie. But if you let me, I’ll turn it into a truth.”

My heart picked up its beat. There would be no turning back. No admitting we’d made a mistake. Just like when Q let me whip him, this would either fix us for good or ruin us forever.

Please…let me survive. Please let Q survive.

“I believe you.”

I wanted to be free of the past. To cut ourselves from the tethers of madness and horror. To start our marriage completely free.

Q’s face tightened with barely concealed rage. “I want to take you back. I want to give you peace. I want us to find each other in our own perfect unsullied darkness.”  His eyes glowed with passion. Despite how hard this would be for him, he vowed to set aside his needs purely to fix me.

Regardless if he would be able to do it—I would let him try.

I nodded, ignoring the flash of panic in my heart. I was so fragile. Q had every power to break me for eternity. Break my soul, my mind, splinterize my entire existence.

I hope he does.

My eyes widened.

I hope he smashes everything away.

Maybe Q had the power to eradicate my cracks and fissures—demolishing everything I was in favour of a brand new me—making me blissfully complete.

Q moved, motioning for me to come closer. I used momentum to jump from my knees to feet; my legs cramped from kneeling. My wrists stayed locked together as I traversed the small distance.

The moment I got close, his strong hands landed on my waist. His touch was a threat. His touch was a promise.

His head bowed, lips coming within millimetres of mine. “I’m going to have to make you believe in order to make you free. Do you understand?”

Not really. But I nodded. The freedom of putting myself completely into his control was beautiful.

“Everything I do, even if I lose myself along the way, remember I love you so fucking much. I’m doing this for you. And afterward…I’m going to make you my wife.”

My heart sprouted wings and for a moment I felt like a sparrow escaping a hunter’s net. His promises made me shudder with longing. I wanted that. God, how I wanted that.

Q nuzzled my nose with his, such a sweet gesture—so tame and normal. My stomach twisted into untieable knots. “If there was another way, I’d do it, but I can’t see one. This is our crescent-moon, Tess. It’s more important than any honeymoon; it’s about us fighting our demons, so they don’t taint our future.”

Pulling back, his pale eyes locked with mine, ensnaring me, sending my heart whirling. “You and me. We need this.” His accented voice was hoarse and impassioned and swept up with promises. Q was right.

We needed this.

More than we knew.

“I’m yours for however long you need, maître.”

He chuckled softly. “You’re mine for eternity, esclave. But the next few days belong to putting our monsters to rest.”

He pulled away, holding up his hand. Wrapped in his fingers was a black length of fabric. His eyebrow rose as he dangled the blindfold. “Ready?”

No.

Yes.

I don’t know.

I sucked in a breath.

I nodded.

Permission granted.

Q attacked me.

* * *

I never knew how Q got me out of the hotel without rousing suspicion. I never knew if he wrapped me in a sheet or dressed me in clothes or carried me out naked. I would never find out how he orchestrated something so terrible all in the name of love.

All I knew was horror.

Cold, aching, howling horror.

He’d told the truth about making me believe. The moment he launched, I forgot everything we’d just agreed and drowned. Drowned in fear, memories, the horrible past.

I couldn’t stop from fighting.

I was incapacitated from fighting.

Q gave himself over to his monsters, embracing the role of kidnapper. We stepped into our nightmares, letting them swallow us whole.

“Stop squirming and I won’t hurt you,” he hissed in my ear, sounding entirely swallowed by darkness.

I tried to reply but he stuffed a gag into my mouth, obliterating my cries.

My mind jumped into insanity. My lungs grasped for useless air.

Together we spiralled into a void.

The tower I’d knocked down so many times shot into formation, giving me no choice but to step aside and let the large, circular prison segment my mind. It crumbled upright, reversing its demise to rise from the dust of its foundations, soaring high.

Q’s fingers wrapped around my throat, clutching my windpipe.

The tower beckoned, waving flags of safety, serenity. No!

Q squeezed, accelerating my hyperventilation.

The need to hide was an unbearable call. The single door in the tower swung wide, hinting at solitude and silence.

I took a step toward sanctuary. Toward temptation. I wanted to shut off completely.

Q was no longer my master. He was my nightmare.

His lips descended on my ear, delivering the final blow. “Welcome to my kingdom. I’m going to make you scream.”

My mind raced for the tower, but it was too late.

Q’s fingers cut off my air. Black spots danced, blending with the blindfold. My vision succumbed and I surrendered to the dark.

* * *

I woke in my kidnapper’s arms.

Gagged, bound, and blindfolded, the only sense I had available was hearing.  Wet slaps of an ocean in the distance, chirps of waking birds, the rustle of tussock, and crunch of gravel. Q’s arms stayed locked around me, keeping me floating above the ground.

My tower loomed fully erect in my mind, waiting solemnly for me to return to its unfeeling hub. The temptation was strong, but Q’s sleek muscles moved against my side, rocking me with every step. I made a promise to him. A promise that I would never shut him out again—no matter what happened.

I intend to keep that promise.

My skin prickled with a chilly sea breeze, but only on my arms and ankles. I’d been bundled into something warm—fluffy. The blindfold hid any hope of seeing where we were and the gag halted my questions.  Panic existed like liquid fear pumping thick in my blood.

“You’re ours now, puta.”

I cringed at the memory. No matter what Q did to make me whole again, I had to remember one thing. One fundamental crucial thing. This was Q. The man I loved with every fibre. He wouldn’t sell me, rape me, or break my mind with drugs.

Are you sure?

My heart raced as the outside world suddenly changed to muffled and hushed. The heavy weight of a building I couldn’t see wrapped around us, masking Q’s footsteps with a thick carpet.

In my mind I tried to visualise a quaint home where only softness and healing existed but I couldn’t avoid the more likely scenario of pain and fear. Room after room we travelled, Q’s body heat both relaxing and scaring me. His arms and stomach tensed, carrying me down a flight of stairs. The air temperature was cooler as we descended. It felt heavier down here, as if the weight of the unseen building was a tomb.

More muffled footsteps. I lost touch with common-sense. I hovered as if by magic. Then Q’s shoes echoed on tiles, coming to a stop in a room smelling faintly of juniper.

I gasped as Q released his hold, swinging my legs downward to connect with textured flooring. My feet were bare, toes digging into the rough tiles like an anchor. The fluffy warmth around me tickled my legs as it shifted with my body.

Not saying a word, Q grabbed my bound wrists, undoing the tight material holding them pinned. I ached for connection. I wanted a hug, a whisper, something to keep my fear at bay. I needed reminding of his love and the reasons why we were doing something so utterly dangerous.

But I got nothing.

He hoisted my arms upward, securing them onto some sort of apparatus from the ceiling. My lungs strained, breathing hard through my nose. The helplessness of hanging—gagged, blindfolded, and completely at his mercy—sent a flurry of bricks toward me, forming into a path, leading to my tower.

No. I’m strong enough.

Every muscle tensed, waiting for a whip or some horrible pain, but Q drifted away. No sound. No body heat. His presence fading into the ether.

The tower became my enemy rather than friend—beckoning too hard, filling my mind with the need to run.

Step inside and no longer care. Step inside and hide.

I squeezed my eyes, fighting the seduction. I had to be strong enough. I was strong enough. Q asked me to trust him—I wouldn’t run. I was done running.

Seconds ticked on without me; I didn’t know how long I stood there. Time played tricks with me, delivering false memories of Rio and Mexico. White Man had never been my capturer—it had been Q all along. Q drugged me. He beat me.

I clamped down on the gag, forcing myself to chase away the lies. I focused instead on the iciness of my hands from lack of blood and the unrelenting ache in my shoulders from being trussed. I wanted to sit. I wanted to roll my spine and stretch. But all I could do was hang and wait like an animal headed to slaughter.

Harsh fingers touched my cheek.

I jolted, cursing my heart cannonballing around my chest. Q undid the gag, pulling it free from my mouth. I groaned in relief, wiggling my jaw, lubricating my dry tongue with saliva.

His fingers clamped around my chin, pressing against my lips. “Take this.”

I stiffened, trying to move my face from his probing fingers. My eyes remained veiled by the blindfold; I yearned for sight. I needed to know where we were. I needed to latch onto Q and know I wasn’t alone.

The pressure on my lips came again, demanding. “Take it,” he snapped.

My stomach somersaulted. He’s trying to drug you. Just like them.

My hands clenched and I repelled away. “No. What are you—”

“Don’t speak. You’re not allowed to speak.” Two fingers entered my mouth by force. The taste of salt and citrus shot right to my heart. This was so wrong.

My teeth ached to bite. To sever the invasion before my mind could turn against Q. I was wrong when I said I was strong enough. I wasn’t. I wanted nothing to taint my love for him—and this—this would murder everything I’d tried so hard to retain. “Stop. This is a mistak—”

Q’s touch turned from harsh to brutal, placing something acidic and foreign on my tongue. “Swallow.”

Tears stung my eyes; I fought in his grip, shaking my head violently.

Never again did I want the fog of hallucinogenics or mind-twisting chemicals. What the hell is he thinking? He knew how bad my withdrawals were. He’d seen how hard it was for me to crawl out of the smog.

Q breathed hard in my ear, muttering in French, cursing in a stream of anger. His arm wrapped around my thrashing body, tilting my head back. His hand came under my jaw, clamping it shut. “Swallow!”

I whimpered, soaking the blindfold in gushing tears.

“Do it or I’ll hurt you.”

My heart pounded; the tower no longer needed to beckon—I inched closer on my own. Fear drove me forward. The horror at being forced to take something that would remove all my mental power.

It would all disappear the moment I stepped inside.

Oh, God. What the hell were we doing? We were tempting fate—waving an invitation at everything we ran from—enticing horror into our lives.

I stood trembling, disobeying. The acidic pill slowly dissolved on my tongue, making me nauseous. I would let Q do anything but drug me. Anything else but that.

Q sighed. The anger in his voice faded to grief, shedding the theatrics, showing the actor beneath. He kissed my ear with incredible softness. “I need you to take it. It’s nothing strong—it will last an hour or two, max.” His tongue swirled around my lobe making my terror-laden body warm and begin to thaw. “Please, Tess.”

I moaned, shaking my head, trying to free my chin free so I could talk. I didn’t want to swallow. I had to make him see how terrified I was of drugs.

His fingers wouldn’t let me go, letting the pill dissolve even further. “You have to believe in order for me to bring you back. Remember?” he murmured. “I won’t be able to help you if you know it’s me. It will ruin both of us. Please…you’ll be safe. Je promets.” I promise.

I shook my head for the fiftieth time, my eyes wild and damp beneath the blindfold. All method of communication had been stolen. I couldn’t appeal or argue. Q held me firm, fully intending to shove me head first into a chasm of horror.

Swift panic shot through my body.

Q’s right. No matter how much I loved him I would end up hating him for this. I wouldn’t be able to stop the connection between him and my past.

I shuddered, acknowledging the truth. I had to go back. Completely. Truly. There was no faking this. No cutting corners. And I couldn’t know it was him driving me deeper.

With a groan of sorrow, I swallowed.

“Good girl,” Q whispered. He paced around me, his fingertips dragging around my neck. Stopping in front again, his hand slid into the material I wore, cupping my breast. “We probably have about fifteen minutes before that takes you away from me.”

I jerked, testing the ceiling restraints. As much as I loved him, I didn’t want pain. If he raised a whip or paddle, I wouldn’t have the strength not to enter my tower. And once I stepped inside—I wasn’t coming out. I wouldn’t be able to.

Q spread the front of the gown open, his hot breath tickling my skin. “Fuck you look incredible, esclave.”