Chapter
10

It was working. A week of not rising to the bait, holding my reactions in, and puttering around the cage like a lost fool had fooled him. He carried me close to his chest like the fragile creature I must’ve looked like. His warmth seeped into me, and, skin to skin, my cool flesh felt like ice. His tattoos extended over his shoulders and down his chest in startling color and bold swatches of greyscale. Instead of any one distinct design, they were an amalgam of blended designs from stars, lettering, tribal stamps, and more. I even spied a few street signs.

Caesar lifted me higher so my head rested on his shoulder, his beard tickling my skin as he carried me up another flight of stairs. This close and I couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles bunched and moved, the silent strength in his lithe frame. He’d looked much smaller in his shirt than he actually was. He probably outweighed Matt by a good twenty-or-so pounds I hadn’t noticed before.

When had I realized Caesar was beautiful?

Sinister and evil, sure. But beautiful.

I swallowed a whimper as heat spread through me. It was tragic the way Jason had molded me, twisted me into a woman who craved darkness like this. The scent of Caesar’s flesh made me shake, and the strength of his body left me wet. I curled my fingers into a fist over his heart, marking the steady rhythm as he carried me. As a little girl, my father had read me stories of gallant knights slaying demons for the princesses trapped in towers. I’d dream of a knight in shining armor to come rescue me when Trace started getting Momma high, and a sword of fire to cut Jason down. The knight never came, and the sword was absent. Caesar was a black knight, wrapped in dark steel on a steed of death. He came to destroy, and I felt my life with him would be a short, a brilliant spark of blood and pain, but I wanted it. Training, comfort, or knowledge, I didn’t know which to blame, but I clung to it. It’s all I knew, all I believed.

We continued down the hall, and he kicked open a door to a bedroom where Sean waited. This would be my tower, and there would be no going back unless I found a way out. I didn’t let my muscles tense, as I worried why he was there.

“The adjustments are underway. I’ll stay at the door, just in case.”

Fuck. I couldn’t escape right now, which meant I had to keep up the act. I’d have to let Caesar do whatever he had planned. To hide my clenched fist, I unfurled my fingers over his beating heart. With each thump, I felt it deeper in my blood—an echo I recognized but didn’t remember. The odd moment confused me as he took me further in the room, bypassed the bed, and stalked into a bathroom full of steam.

Embarrassment streaked through me.

Of course, he wouldn’t want to fuck a woman smelling of piss and shit.

As he lowered me into the bathtub, hot water licked over my sore muscles. The wounds had healed and had begun fading, but the heat took my breath away. I never knew how much I’d love the idea of being clean until the chance to wash had been taken away. As I sank into the water, Caesar released me and stood tall. My gaze traveled his form, drawn to the artwork and a hint into the man who held me. A bit further away, I could see the indentions of his abs and the slope into his groin muscles. Devil’s Horns, I’d always called them, and they stuck out of Caesar’s jeans. A dragon soared over his right pec, and a raging phoenix coiled around his left arm. In between the two mythological animals, Caesar had stamped himself with bits of imagery. Crows disintegrating into dust, ‘if not me, then who’ was traced in beautiful cursive on his left hip, and even more colorful art decorated him. I couldn’t dare to understand it all; it was as chaotic and confusing as the man before me.

“Took three years for the concept. You’d look good with some ink. Some big pieces, up that right side, from toe to armpit. I’d like to see that,” he said.

His eyes traveled over the flesh he envisioned, and I watched him. An odd, crazy ache brewed in my chest and my heart fluttered. What? We weren’t two people born to come together slowly over candlelight dinners and dates. We sparked, fought, and raged. But here, in the damp, misty interior of the bathroom, the outside world faded and he was just a half-naked man, and I was a broken girl wishing to be saved. His hot gaze burned over me, and deep inside something flared to life.

“Do you find me beautiful?” I asked, and sucked in a breath. I hadn’t meant to speak, to ask, but it floated between us.

He titled his head, and his narrow gaze looked everywhere but at my face. “I find you brilliant and tragic,” he whispered. Brilliant and tragic. He frowned, his brows riding low over his eyes as he shook his head. “A puzzle I can’t figure out.” He shook his head. “Who is Tamara?”

I didn’t want to give him Tamara. She was my cross to bear, the stain on my life I’d never get rid of. But when his gaze locked onto mine, I opened my mouth.

“My best friend from elementary until high school. I’d missed a week of school, and she came to check on me.”

I swallowed, visions of the day swirling in my head: her pigtails bouncing in the sunlight, the fear and confusion on her face, and the way the rough carpet felt beneath my knees. Jason’s grip on my hair kept my back bowed, my mouth gaping open, and me in place as he ripped into me. And then she’d raced in, all flailing fists and screams, but she hadn’t saved me. She’d only been swallowed by the beast.

Caesar cocked his head to the side, studying me. “And found Jason and you together,” he said. His statement forced me from my memories and back to the conversation at hand.

“Yes, and he couldn’t let her go. We moved … my mom, Trace, Jason, and Tamara. Ran away before the cops even realized she was missing, and no one ever came looking. Tamara was adopted, and she’d been a runaway before.”

I let the rest of the story fade. I didn’t need to tell him how Tamara ran from her stepfather for doing the same things Jason did to me. Or how they didn’t search for her because she was sure her family kept collecting their government paychecks and didn’t want to lose the money. Tamara and I, bonded by circumstances and sisters by choice, were lost to the world. But she’d died, and I still lived.

It was unfair.

“Would you like to kill him, the man who took Tamara from you?” Caesar asked.

Yes.

It frightened me, how easy that reaction slipped into my head. Jason’s blood on my hands would assuage some of the pain. Release a bit of the captive rage I’d held onto for so long. Give me freedom to at least mourn Tamara, knowing I’d ended the man of our nightmares. But I looked away instead. I didn’t want to examine whatever emotion flared. My silence didn’t seem to bother him.

“Tonight, I’ve got a surprise for you, since you’ve been such a good girl.”

He gripped the edge of his jeans and pushed them over his hips. Even flaccid, his cock was intimidating. Thick and long, it rested heavy against his thigh. I swallowed, forcing my gaze to the top of the water.

“Sit forward.”

I did as he commanded, and he slid into the water behind be, gathering me between his legs, his cock nestled between his stomach and my back. He then used his feet to kick on the whirlpool, and jets massaged us in glorious heat. If nothing else, I’d enjoy getting clean and the way the water soothed my muscles.

“Rest back. I won’t bite, unless you ask me to.”

I ignored the jibe and rested against him, ignoring the way a part of me wanted to ask him to do just that.

Black. Black. Black.

That’s all I understood. No kindness or love. Those things were weak and breakable. Maybe I was made of love, and that’s why Caesar wanted to break me. In silence, Caesar bathed me. His smooth hands cleansed me matter-of-factly, not lingering even on my pussy as he washed away a week’s worth of grime and blood. Every part of me was squeaky clean by the time he was finished. A few more minutes and he was clean, too. We both wore his woodsy scent as he turned off the jets and pulled the plug in the tub with his foot.

“A good rinse might be in order. What a dirty girl.”

I cringed at his description as he lifted me from the tub and led me to a shower. It took a few seconds to get the water going, but he made it just as hot as the bath as we stood together in the spray.

“One last wash. Wouldn’t want any lingering shit from the bath.”

I let him wash me, confused at the difference in him. I knew he wanted me to follow rules, but I didn’t think he’d act more boyfriend than satisfied captor who still wanted my pain. But on the edge, I felt excitement from him. When he pulled me from the shower, a half-smile curled his lips. As he dried me, the smile grew and he vibrated with energy.

And when he pulled out a sleek, black tube-top dress that would barely reach under my ass, he wasn’t even trying to hide his grin.

“I’ve got matching heels. We’re going to take a ride.”

A ride. He’d take me out of here. My pulse jumped as I grabbed the dress with trembling fingers. If he took me outside, I may be able to get away from him. Around other people, he wouldn’t be able to hide that he was holding me captive. I slipped on the dress and tucked my large breasts into the top as best I could before making sure the hem was as far down as it could go. Satisfied I wouldn’t flash anyone when I got out of the car, I slipped on the heels.

“You’re missing your girly shit, so I’ll get Sean to pick some up on the way back. Give him a list while we’re on the way.”

“Yes, Caesar.”

He hesitated a moment, then rested his forehead against mine and exhaled roughly.

“I like the sound of that,” he whispered. But before I could respond, he stalked away from me and headed out of the room.

“Catch up, Ashy Lashy. We’ve got an appointment to keep.”

He didn’t take me to some restaurant or a movie. No, not Caesar. Instead, the sleek black sedan with deeply tinted windows pulled up in front of an abandoned warehouse with no other cars, people, or lights in sight. Tucked against his side, I couldn’t outwardly react, but inside I cried. This was not my chance, either. Nothing for miles around, I wondered at how much property Caesar owned that appeared straight out of a horror movie. Once again, I was trapped where no one would hear me scream, and I had no idea what he wanted to do with me.

“He’s already in there,” Sean said from the driver’s seat.

“I’d expect no less. Ready to go?” he asked me, and I nodded. What other answer could I give? It wasn’t like I had a choice in any of this.

The cool air outside swirled around my legs and made goose bumps race across my arms as Caesar tucked me into him again. To match me, he’d put on black jeans, a white graphic t-shirt with ZOOYork on the front, and tossed a black blazer over it. He’d rolled up the sleeves and, under different circumstances, I would have fainted to see a man like him walk up to me. He’d even trimmed his beard into a near roundness at the bottom.

“Come in here, baby.”

He adjusted me so my arms wrapped around him inside his blazer and curled one thick arm around my waist. I trembled, and I wasn’t sure if it was from what he’d called me or how close he was to me in the cold. I hoped to God it was the latter, but I feared it was the former.

He walked us into the quiet warehouse, my heels clicking loudly on the concrete floor. A singular yellowed bulb of light broke the darkened interior. Below that light, a man hung from chained wrists, a thick gag in his mouth. But I didn’t have to hear his voice to know who it was. I stumbled to a stop.

“Never let a fucker see you sweat. Keep your head high and put one foot in front of the fucking other, no matter how much it hurts. No matter what it takes. You fight because not fighting is for pussies, and pussies deserve to die.”

I heard the threat in his voice, but I also heard the utter belief in his words. My gaze flew to his, the dichotomy of what he was telling me whipping between us.

He knows.

I didn’t know how he knew, but my lack of fight had put me in more danger than fighting would. But fighting would take away any chance he might make a mistake and I could get free. I struggled to make sense of my warring emotions as I stepped with him into the light and faced the man who’d destroyed my youth, who’d killed Tamara. Jason swung back and forth on his chains, glaring at us.

“Hi, fuck face, remember me?” Caesar asked. “Well, looks like your mouth’s a bit busy. Here, let me help you with that.”

For the first time, Caesar released me, but I forced my back straight and faced Jason head on. He fought against his bindings as Caesar pulled the rag from his mouth.

“What the fuck is going on? You got the bitch, what do you need me for?”

Caesar went still, the same way he had when I’d called him a lunatic. From the outside looking in, the expression was terrifying, but it was gone so quickly I feared I’d missed it. One moment he stared at Jason with death in his eyes, and the next moment he laughed hard enough to double over.

“You and Trace, wow. I’m always entertained. That bitch over there, you see her? She’s a hot piece, isn’t she?”

“Yeah. Shit at sucking a dick. Never been good at it, but her pussy’s tight as fuck. Felt like the first time every time I had her,” Jason returned. “That doesn’t tell me why the fuck I’m here.”

“Business. You know, money and shit. But first, yeah, she’s pretty fucking tight. Tell me, when was the first time you fucked the bitch over there?”

Jason frowned at Caesar’s emphasis but answered the question. “Barely remember. Been fucking the cunt for a while. Maybe seven? No, she was six. Couldn’t be satisfied with her mouth on my dick. Nearly knocked her teeth out one time for grazing me.”

“Six, hm?” Caesar turned back to me, that same expression of death and chaos falling over his features. “Were you six, pet?”

Chaos. That’s what Caesar was. Pure chaos wrapped into a beautiful package I feared to unwrap. But right now, in the dingy warehouse, with Jason swinging between us, I thought maybe I could.

I nodded, unable to find my voice.

“Hm? I can’t hear you,” Caesar gritted out.

I lifted my gaze to his and held it. “Yes. I was six. My mother was high on the couch.”

“Where was your brother?” he asked.

“Trace? He was with my mom, high as a fucking kite. He didn’t help record and take pictures until I was fifteen.”

Caesar looked at Sean and called him over. After a few moments of whispering, Sean walked away, already grabbing his phone.

“And Tamara?” Caesar asked. “How old was she?”

I swallowed, darkness fading into my vision. “She was just thirteen. He took her, beat her, and everything else when I wouldn’t do it.”

Caesar pinched his bottom lip and approached me. I inhaled his cologne as he placed a thumb and forefinger around my chin. He lifted my face until our gazes met, and I was pulled, electrified, by the anger in his depths. “She was your cage,” he whispered.

Tears gathered in my eyes, and I felt the cool slide of them over my cheeks. Caesar leaned forward, his tongue tracing the line of my tears, and heat exploded inside of me. His lips were feather soft, and the worst of my past stood behind him, but I was protected for a moment. Hell was burning around us, but Satan had me in his arms, and though he would kill me, too, he held me now in my time of need.

“Demons, Ashlyn, can always be exorcised,” Caesar whispered to me.

I blinked as he backed away. “What?”

“You said you are twenty-two now?”

“Yes, Caesar. I don’t understa—”

“You don’t have to, but he will.”

Lightning fast, Caesar punched Jason in the gut, hard enough to make the large man throw up down his chest. Chunks of chewed up meat stuck in thick, yellow fluid spilled down the front of him, and I gulped to keep from turning way.

“What the fuck, Caesar? Man, I haven’t stolen anything from you.”

“You touched her,” Caesar said coldly. “You touched what belonged to me. For sixteen fucking years, you hurt what was mine to hurt. You broke what was mine to break. Sixteen years.”

The last he roared before he walked over to a table hidden just out of sight in the darkness and came back with branch cutters. I don’t know what I felt. Electrified. Owned. Lost. It all coalesced inside of me as I held my head high and watched Caesar, but his words raced through me. Pushed through the fluff of sweetness I tried to wrap myself in.

“Wait, Caesar. Please,” Jason cried.

“You said my name. Did Trace tell you how I hate it when people say my name?”

I trembled as I watched the man who begged me to call him by his given name lowered Jason until he hovered just over the floor. Caesar. Wild, crazy, dangerous Caesar grabbed one of Jason’s fingers and cut it off. Blood spurted, mixing with the bile on Jason’s stomach, and slid to the floor in dark-red drips. He howled and Caesar laughed. He laughed as he then grabbed a torch, sparked it on, and burned the flesh he’d just cut.

“Have to keep you alive,” he said.

I kept watching in awe as Caesar repeated the move, fifteen more times, taking all of Jason’s fingers and six of his toes. He’d even made sure to take three on each side, starting with the big toe. The warehouse was full of Jason’s whimpers and the scent of charred flesh. My stomach rolled, but I felt freed at the same time. I sat back and watched while Jason was hurt, never lifting a finger or saying a word to save him. I wouldn’t. Just as no one saved me.

No one but the man who wanted to hurt me worst of all.

The warehouse doors creaked open, and I spun around, though Caesar kept playing with the torch over Jason’s stomach, drawing a large “16” over and over again.

“I have her mother,” Sean called.

“Oh, good. String the broad up. I want to show them exactly who the bitch is.”

“Please! I don’t know why I’m here. Oh my God. Ashlyn? What is going on? Help me.”

“I appreciate the piss poor job you did of raising my girl. But there was just one major fucking problem with what you did,” Caesar told my mother.

“You hurt her. All she did was come to help me, and you stole her life,” I whispered.

He looked back at me, his wild eyes cold and hot at the same time. He told me with his eyes what they’d done. The wrong they’d committed that had signed their death warrants. But I wanted to hear him say it. I wanted them to know there was no way out.

For a few moments, I wanted to be Caesar.

“What is it, Caesar? Tell them what they did.”

Jason and my mother cringed at my words, but I didn’t fear calling Caesar by name.

He smiled at me. “You touched what was mine to fucking break, and now I have to break you.”

I knew he’d break me. I knew he’d hurt me again.

Fuck, I knew I was sick for loving what he did right now.

But I did.

I loved the way he picked up the knife, and I knew what he was going to do with it. I loved the way my mother screamed and wailed. I even loved when Caesar came to me and helped me in front of Jason. When he curled my fingers around the knife and put it to Jason’s neck. I loved it even more when I pulled the knife as hard as I could and felt blood rush over me.

My mother screamed, but I ignored her cries, just like she had done to me so many years ago.

Caesar left me standing there, blood covering most of my skin, as he finished her as well. I didn’t flinch, didn’t run. Stuck on a high of pure retribution, I dropped to my knees as Caesar came back to me.

Tomorrow, I’d find a way to escape. Tomorrow, I’d hate him again.

Tonight, I’d be his and thank him for being strong enough—the only man strong enough—to save me from my demons.