CHAPTER 28
Noah
“It’s her . . . it’s Valerie.”
Their approval of our performance almost swallows the words Ivy said. Her whisper manages to carry past the fog of ire pushing through the cortex of my mind. All I want to do in that moment is scream. Destroy. Kill the cunt.
My body vibrates above Ivy’s.
I can’t contain the tremor in my frame nor the way I hold onto her with manic rage. Every cell in my body contracts—my arms wrap around her tighter—while my mind processes the truth I’ve been too dense to admit.
“It’s her . . . it’s Valerie.”
That laugh. Her automatic negative response to anything and everything my doll does.
A disdain so palpable that it suffocates everything within its path.
“It’s her . . . it’s Valerie.”
Should’ve been simple: she’s always hated Ivy.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper once more into her hair. She’s trembling. The temperature in the room has once again been lowered. Bloody bitch will do anything to watch us suffer.
“So cold.” Ivy’s teeth chatter as I pick her up and walk us back to the bed. Don’t wait for permission. Instead, I take care of my girl the best I can. Laying her down with care, I grab the discarded blanket and wrap it around her shaking frame. Laying down next to her, Itry to let the warmth radiating from my body seep into her bones.
“Did I give you—”
“Reward. Reward. Reward.”
It’s a chant. A demand from those depraved fuckers who watched me hurt my doll. Who moaned and got off to my taking Ivy’s virginal arse.
Thundering, they begin to stomp on the floor beneath their feet, clapping in intervals of three’s before chanting reward once more.
A part of me wants to laugh. I can imagine her now, grinding her teeth in anger and glaring at us through the cameras. Bloody hating how much her beloved audience seems to like us.
They aren’t ready for us to die. We are entertainment—their dirty little pleasure, and I’m not above using that for our gain.
It’ll buy me time.
Help me formulate a better plan and get out.
And hide that fucking rem—
“What do they deserve?” Valerie laughs, the high pitch grating on my ears. It’s forced and as fake as she’s always been. Reminded me of her pathetic simpering each time I came to visit my doll at the agency.
Shite, how did I not put it together before?
Self-deprecating anger singes through my veins and Ivy flinches; my hold on her is too tight. “Sorry.” It’s the only thing I’ve said to her since I pulled out of her arse. Involuntarily, my cock jerks at the memory of the heaven I left to embrace the hell we reside in.
“I’m fine,” she whispers. Her eyes, wide and full of love, look up at me. “Just hold me.”
“Never ask or beg for comfort, love. It’s my job to take care of you.”
“Love you.” Ivy shifts in my hold, pressing herself closer, all the while ignoring my semi-hard cock twitching against her hip. Even while feeling discomfort, she still tries to ease my mounting guilt.
I’ll never regret claiming her every hole for my own, but I do wish the circumstances would’ve been different. That I could’ve taken care of her. Pampered her. Showed her how deep my love runs without these bloody arseholes all around us. Watching.
Various shouts carry through the room and my eyes snap toward the largest speaker. It’s chaotic. A complete mess.
“Food!” One person shouts.
“Alone time!” Another says.
“Let him bathe her. She’s been through enough, and deserves a little pampering.” This last request comes from a distorted male voice. Even through the robotic tone, he’s confident and demanding. His voice carries above all others and the room grows quiet. “Wouldn’t you agree, sweetheart?”
Not a bloody peep.
I look towards the full auditorium, and his hulking frame is impossible to miss. All the way at the back and standing with his arms crossed over his chest, he looks directly at us.
However, I can’t make out a single one of his features. His face is covered by a mask similar to what the others are wearing; the bottom half is all that’s visible to the naked eye.
He’s dressed in an expensive suit, one that seems familiar, as does the smirk he throws at us through the glass.
As if he is baiting us. Or pushing our captor.
Valerie doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t refute him.
“A bath would be nice,” Ivy whispers, the sound loud inside the quiet room.
“No one asked you—”
The man standing at the back of the auditorium interrupts her. “I did. Ivy knows I was speaking to her.”
Valerie sputters at this. “She deserves to die.”
“Enough!” At his growl, I move my body in front of Ivy’s, wanting to shield her from anything and everything. I don’t trust this man. I don’t bloody trust anyone of these animals to not attack.
Everything’s a game. Survival of the motherfucking fittest.
Suddenly, the door slides open—that hidden door once again showing me the way out. Agnes and Clarice stand just outside the threshold, their bare hands and clothes stained with blood.
Fresh blood.
“Oh, God. No no no no,” My doll cries out and my chest heaves wanting to cave in on itself.
We’re both thinking the same thing. Jaime.
“Calm her, Noah. I’m done with the theatrics,” Valerie snaps.
“Shhhh, baby. Let’s not think the worst.”
“Don’t be a cry baby, Ms. Reid. No one likes those type of people,” Clarice comes closer, her childlike dress swishing around her legs. The stains haven’t dried, and she fingers a few that look to have formed into tiny clots. “Besides, this isn’t your friend. We’ve barely begun to have fun with sweet, little Jamie. Raoul is taking very good care of her . . .” she giggles, the sound cruel and demonic “. . . for now.”
“Listen to him, child. Don’t tempt us into action.” Agnes fully enters and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to not yell out expletives. Her entire mask and white-gloved hands are soaked in blood. Bright. Red. Blood. So much of it everywhere, as if she bathed in it. “She’s alive, and the how long depends on you. So behave, stand up, and follow us to the bathroom. Master wants you clean.”
Ivy moves to scoot to the edge of the bed, but I pull her back. Fear shoots through me; my skin vibrates with the need to hide her.
These two women are sadistic and there is no doubt in my mind they’ll hurt her, slice her beautiful skin open for their sick pleasure.
“She’s not going anywhere with them alone,” I snap, at the same time the man inside the auditorium says, “No.” Both our voices hold anger—left no room to argue.
“Be reasonable. I don’t trust them.” Is that a slight whine in Valerie’s tone?
“Noah will take care of her. No one else.” His desire to fight for us throws me off. Makes alarm bells shoot across all processors.
He’s with them.
He’s the enemy.
This arsehole is fucking with my head.
“I don’t feel so good,” Ivy moans from beside me and immediately my eyes snap down to hers.
A low, “Shite,” leaves my lips.
Her face has gone ashen, hands shaking—eyes red and a bit unfocused. She’s coming down from her high. Crashing and fast. Hard.
“Agnes and Clarice?” Valerie asks.
“Yes, mistress,” they answer in unison.
“Give the lovebirds some privacy.”
With a small curtsey, they walk back out and disappear into the darkness past the opening. Guns are cocked, but I can’t make out their bodies or that of the militia they have for security.
“Noah,” that man calls out and I turn my eyes to the glass that divides us. Give him a nod to let him know he has my attention. “You’ll have one hour alone to take care of any need you may have. Make it count. Take care of our little Ivy ‘love.’”
My girl stiffens and tries to look at him, confusion marring her delicate features. His words cause me to pause as well, but I need to make a move before they come in and force us out. Last thing I need is for them to find my sole reason for hope.
“Answer him, Noah. Show appreciation for his gift.” The bite in Valerie’s tone—the sheer disgust—causes Ivy to whimper in her crashing state. I’m thankful that my focus on her is keeping me from tweaking.
She can’t control it anymore than I can, but her body has been used—rode hard, and the emotional toll will accelerate the down effect.
It’s that lost look on her face that causes the words “thank you” to pass through my lips while I pull us toward the edge of the bed. With little effort, I get her up and into my arms, nestled into my chest as I walk us out of the room and toward the only open door in the dark hall. It’s bright, the light illuminating the way for us.
The closer we get, I see the silhouettes of the guards followed by the cock of a single riffle this time. It’s pointed at us; the others stand at attention, but don’t move a muscle.
Another three steps and we are inside the all-white bathroom. Last time we were in here I hadn’t paid much attention to the room. Like our cell, it’s opulent yet this room holds a sterile edge.
Purity. White. Expensive.
Immaculate.
“Please turn the water on, Noah. Let it heat up.”
Nuzzling the crown of her head, I lay a kiss there. “Of course, love.” With one hand I reach over and turn the handle to let the water run.
Within seconds steam starts to seep out and the room’s temperature evens out. Feels nice and Ivy hums in agreement.
I let her down. She steps inside with my help, and pulls me in behind her with a gentle tug. The hot water immediately soothes my body, the muscles which had been tense, loosen.
“Fuck, I needed that.” Ivy’s moan isn’t lost on me and my eyes devour the sight before me. We’re sharing the spray, bodies close together.
Those gorgeous eyes I love so much are closed and her head is thrown back. This woman is so beautiful. My perfection.
Stepping back, I admire her from head to toe and close the clear plastic curtain. Not that it gives us much privacy, but the illusion helps.
“Don’t move.” I growl low, trying like hell to fight the lick of arousal that rushes down my spine. At the sound of my voice, her eyes snap open and focus on mine. They widen, but behind the hint of surprise there’s a bit of renewed hunger. A yo-yo rollercoaster their drugs have forced upon on us.
Up and down. Want and need. Love and lust.
“Noah, I think we should—”
“Turn around, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.” She complies without a second of hesitation, standing with her back to me. My eyes eat up every inch of this sinful picture. “Tip your head back.”
The small nook inside the wall holds a bottle of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. I pick up the first and pour a generous amount in my palm.
Rubbing them together, I move to stand behind her, my hard cock nestled against her lower back. From her top to the tips, I run my fingers through the long strands twice. Create a thick lather and then focus on her scalp, massaging it.
Putting just enough pressure to cause her to moan. And she does. Fuck me, the sound is music to my ears. Precious.
“Feels so good.”
“I love you, sweet girl.” Pushing her head further beneath the sprayer, I wash the suds out and press closer. Ivy trembles at the feel of me, moving back against me. “How do you feel?”
“Shaky, but it comes and goes. I’m guessing it’s the crap they injected us with.”
Lower, my hands skim down her back and stop at the swell of her ass. “And here?”
“Sore, but okay. I’m good I promise” . . . at my scoff, she reaches back and squeezes my hand . . . “I don’t regret it, baby. I’m yours and wanted it just as much.”
“Thank you,” I say and lower my lips to lay a tiny kiss on her neck. Nuzzle the soft skin there. She’s always known just what to say to calm me, make me see past my frustrations. I press my lips to her collarbone and share my own revelation.
Gift her the hope she needs to fight.
“Clarice dropped the remote that opens the main entrance to our room beside an overthrown table. We have way out. We’re getting the fuck out.”