CHAPTER FIVE
SERAPHINA
He crept forward, his hands held together behind his back. He had a lazy posture, one that would make any person believe that what was occurring in the room was no different or abnormal than an afternoon spent watching television.
How could he stand there and pretend he hadn't taken me? I was clearly in a strange place, strapped down and unable to move.
"Are we in a hospital?" I asked. It was the only place that made sense. If so, where were the nurses?
"This is not a hospital. We are at the home of my friend. A temporary location only, but necessary because I needed the medical supplies to clean you up and prepare you for your flight." His eyes flashed with humor - secrets hidden behind a smile that was even more beautiful now that I saw it beneath the light.
He had features that matched the exotic accent to his words. With naturally bronzed skin, piercing amber eyes and a face that was as charming as it was deceptive, his beauty made him dangerous; the type of danger that enchants you until you’re walking willingly into its unforgiving arms.
"Let me go. I'm not taking any flight."
He picked up a bottle of antiseptic and a washcloth from the counter, soaking the cloth with the liquid before walking slowly toward me. "On the contrary, you will be taking a flight and you will be walking onto that plane voluntarily and without complaint."
A chill ran over my spine, my stomach twisting with the wave of emotions that kept crashing against me like water breaking over jagged rocks. Because that's what I was now. Broken down and jagged - sharp edges that scraped the skin or pierced the body. Unfeeling and uncaring, I was trapped in a place I couldn't escape - and one where this asshole couldn't find me. Sure, he'd somehow taken my physical body before I'd been split apart, but my soul was already shredded and torn, never to be whole again.
"Please just take me to the hospital." I didn't care enough to put any force into my voice, the words coming out as if spoken by a machine that knew what these types of men liked to hear. Mechanical and cold, I feigned fear when what I felt was nothing.
"What hurts? Where are you injured?"
"Nothing, nowhere...and everything. Do you think you can fix that, doc?"
The corner of his lips turned up, smile lines making his face more handsome. What was it with men? Whereas women aged to become less attractive, certain men seemed to improve with age. Like a fine wine, they became stronger - more bold. Why did I even care?
"I'm not a doctor. My name is Anthony."
"And I assume you want me to tell you mine?"
"I couldn’t care less. I'll name you what I want to call you."
Confusion slapped at my thoughts, but the depression and numbness quickly blanketed me, snuffing out any concern I should have had. "So, do you want to explain why I'm here? Or are we going to play games for the rest of the night?"
Taking a seat on a rolling stool next to the table where he'd strapped me down, he looked at me with warm eyes. "Your behavior has changed quite drastically in the last minute or so. It's unusual."
A bark of humorless laughter burst from my lips. Who did this guy think he was to judge me? He didn’t know me. Casting a sharp glance in his direction, I spit out my words on a belligerent tongue. "I'm sorry. Did you want me to keep asking questions like the answers actually mattered? Doctor, nurse, stranger, captor or sick rapist...it doesn't matter who you are. It all washes out in the end."
My voice trailed off, my eyes lowering to look at the ground beneath his feet. "There is nothing you can do to me that hasn't been done before. I'll die one way or another. Your involvement can only delay the inevitable, but in the end, you are powerless to stop it."
Beats of silence ticked by, my heart pounding in my chest and every bit of emotion inside me drained away. I'd been angry when I first woke up, but like always, it didn't last long enough to chase away the hatred and sadness I carried. Those emotions would never be tempered. They would only build to a point where they destroyed me. Smiling at the thought, I didn't speak another word to the man. Didn't care what he thought or had to say - what he planned to do with me now that he'd snatched me away from oblivion.
As if I hadn’t lived through it and survived before…
Standing from the stool, he watched me with scrutiny in his eyes, his resolve visibly draining away. I smiled knowing full well that he'd been reduced to the same worthless position I've put every other person in my life. There's nothing they can do to make me feel a damn thing, to change my mind or make me regret my final decision. The only person that could make me feel anything was taken days after he'd been born, his soul rejecting me because I'd been the one who tried to destroy him.
The bottle Anthony carried hit the counter with a heavy thud, the cloth set to its side before he crossed the room to place his palm on the handle of the door. He looked at me with no emotion in his expression, his shrewd gaze studying me, attempting to decipher my secrets. Soundless seconds passed and he walked out the door, closing it softly behind him.
Left alone and restrained, I leaned back against the table, my sightless eyes looking up into light with the hope that it would eventually blind me completely. I'd somehow gone from captive, to death, back to captive. But no matter how much I tried to care, I couldn't. This was just another roadblock, one that would keep me from death for days or weeks, but also one that would eventually deliver me into death’s cold arms when the time was finally right.
. . .
ANTHONY
I found Aiden in the kitchen. Now with a shirt covering his chest and shoulders, he sat at the table sipping a cup of coffee, a newspaper in his hand. Hearing my steps, he lowered the paper to the table, his keen and discerning eyes locking to my face.
"Explain."
One word and I knew he wouldn't budge until I'd told him everything. Normally, I answered to no man, but this was his house, and I'd thoughtlessly pulled his life and home into a situation that was as foreign to me as a language I could neither understand nor speak.
"While driving into the city, the drawbridge raised to allow a ship to pass beneath. I saw her on the cliffs while the car idled on the street. She tried to jump."
He sighed, his face twisting with understanding and disgust. "What have you done, Anthony? Take the bitch back to the cliff and leave her there. She'll fix the problem for you. Have you lost your damn mind?"
"I will not." I didn't know what I'd do with the woman, but allowing her to destroy herself was not a viable option. "She's not afraid, Aiden, of me or of death."
"She's broken, Anthony. There is nothing more you can do with a woman like that than to put her down and bury her. You've seen it beneath the hand of an untrained Master. They create shells of the women without realizing there is no bringing them back once they've been completely shattered." His green eyes glanced toward the hall that led to the medical room. "If what you're saying is true, and that woman was about to jump..."
"About to?" I laughed. "She did jump. I just happened to move fast enough to catch her."
Aiden's eyes rolled, a flame of anger staining his cheeks. "Then she is lost already. You're smarter than this, Anthony. And I think we both know why you've done this, but it won't change the past. That woman is not Elise..."
"I need to use your facilities for a week." I cut him off before he could speak the truth that I refused to acknowledge.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Aiden clenched his eyes shut. "For what purpose? There's been no order for a beat up, mentally ill, suicidal woman within the Society. As a Master, you have no duty to train her, to save her, fuck her or restrain her."
"And as a man, I want to…save her, at least."
My voice was firm, unwavering in the strength with which I'd spoken those words. Remembering my place as Aiden's guest, I softened my tone to add, "If I can help her..." I shook my head, unsure what I was doing. Perhaps Aiden was right to question my sanity. I couldn't help but question it myself.
He looked at me, the resignation in his eyes draining away to be replaced by the professional blank mask he'd mastered years before. "Do you really believe you can fix her, Anthony? Is she worth the effort? She's fractured and you don't even know the cause. She could be a drug addict, or dying from some horrible disease. You, of all people, should know that this goes against every fucking rule in the Society. We're not allowed to run along grabbing random women when we feel like it. This is a business!"
My shoulders rolled back on instinct. I was a Master. Regardless of whether I was faced with a man or a woman, I demanded obedience and control. Aiden was the same, and I knew that neither of us would back down from this disagreement.
"You are correct, Aiden, this is a business, but it is also our lives. There is no person in this room that can deny having broken a rule here or there when it comes to the Society."
A pointed stare followed my words, his expression still blank although he shrugged a shoulder in response. He knew his own crimes and the games he'd played could have him removed from this life, so he was smart enough to relent to this one request of mine.
"Fine. You have one week to get her ready for the flight. You can take her to the island after that and do whatever the hell you please. I'll have no part of this, Anthony, and I pity you for the lost fucking cause you have strapped down in my medical room. This makes no sense, and it will ruin you if you're not careful."
"I appreciate the concern, Aiden, but I won't let that woman kill herself."
He laughed. "You're just giving her another cliff from which to jump. They're all over your island."
A mischievous grin tugged at my lips regardless of the dark memory that flashed before my weary eyes. Elise had been so beautiful, so rare.
"I have ways of keeping her restrained. I won't make the same mistake again."
He sighed. "It won't bring Elise back, Anthony."
"I refuse to let two women die because I could not save the first."
Walking from the room, I left Aiden sitting at the table, ignoring my lack of manners for having left him on such a sour note. I felt rabid, my body tightening with the strength I knew this task would take.
The woman was broken. She'd given up long before she met me and for a reason of which I was unaware. I had no place to start, no information I could use to knock her off balance. All I knew was she wanted to die, and that knowledge alone would have to be enough to control her.
. . .
SERAPHINA
I'd known he was outside the door before he ever placed his hand on the knob. A shadow penetrated the small crack between the door and the tiles beneath it. Darkness crept within that shadow - pain and anger, screams, confusion and terror.
Even sensing those truths about the man who entered the room with a predatory stride, I didn't fear him.
I didn't fear anything.
"I'm going to clean your wounds and show you to the room you'll be staying in for the night. I prefer to do so with your cooperation. However, I'm not opposed to using force, if necessary." Ravenous amber eyes glared down at me. He was a beast who'd found his prey.
Sterile white walls were a blank canvas behind him, his body and face a distorted picture. What should have been a charming and well-mannered man was a force much colder and cruel.
Wasting no time, he picked up the first aid supplies and patted at my wounds, the sting of the alcohol becoming ice across my skin. Air hissed over my lips in response to the pain, but I didn't fight him. There was no point.
"What is your name?" His words rolled without effort, each sound slipping from his tongue on a soothing and exotic wave.
"It doesn't matter."
"I own you now. It does matter. I prefer to use your real name."
A bark of laughter left my lips, his fingers clenching around my throat seconds later. My head hit the table and his nose touched mine from how close he leaned in. Pain, sharp and shooting, spread across my skull, intensifying the headache that had already held me in its grip.
My eyes locked to his, my body absorbing the pain and digesting the acerbic sensation, breaking it down and transforming it into the disgust and rebellion I felt towards every asshole who dared lay a finger on me in anger. Abuse was nothing new, just another form of love.
At least that's what they always told me.
"I asked for your name. I will not ask again." Molten gold flared in his eyes, his teeming rage barely contained beneath the tan of his skin. His hair was as black as the pupils that rounded and grew, giving him the appearance of a decadent demon.
"Carla," I squeaked out.
Lie. Lie. Lie.
His hand released my throat to pull back and run through his silken hair, the waves even more wild once his fingers had been forced through the tangles. "That's better. I don't want to hurt you, but your disobedience will leave me with no choice."
I was in awe. Every man who abused me previously was like a jackal when his anger had been ignited, but this man - already out of place because of his exceptional beauty - was calm, arrogant and professional.
He reminded me of someone…someone I’d rather forget.
I wanted to ask him questions, but my lips wouldn't budge from the rebellious line they held. Who was he and why did he give a damn whether I lived or died? At first, I'd thought he was a doctor or a social worker of some kind, but his clothes spoke of wealth and his accent whispered hints of a foreign land. Beyond even those attributes, one thing stood above all as a neon sign warning me that this situation wasn't normal:
He claimed he owned me.
Another man had claimed that before.
"I'd like to bathe you tonight, but given your earlier behavior, I'm not sure I trust that you'll control yourself. Slick tile and raging arms and legs do not mix well."
"Afraid I'll hurt you?" I asked, throwing a bit of sarcasm into my tone.
His fingers gripped my hair, controlling my head with such precision that even the effort to avert my eyes from his caused pain. I winced when he gripped down tighter, each hair pulling at my scalp, desperate not to be ripped from the skin. "You should be afraid I'll hurt you."
"Maybe I like pain, old man." It wasn't until just then that I noticed the bit of silver that touched his hair, the coloring that gave away the years of age between us. He didn't appreciate the observation.
Still gripping my hair with one hand, he used the other to release my restraints. I immediately reached up when free, grasping at clothing or anything else that would help me fight against him. But I'd spent days without food, and nights lost in emotional exhaustion. For this fight, at least, he had the upper hand.
A scream tore from my throat when I was dragged off the table by my hair, my body hitting the floor with the same force it had impacted against the side of the cliff. Bones that had previously cracked felt like they were fully broken, sharp agonizing pain like lightning through my nerves. Despite the overwhelming odds against me, I thrashed as he dragged me out of the room and down a long hall. Nothing was there for me to grab and slow down the pace he walked - no doorjambs, no furniture - nothing.
A loud bang sounded, his palm beating against a locked door that seemed to anger him more than anything I could do. Dropping me with no remorse for the pain it caused, he looked at me with a blank expression. "Stay."
I rubbed at my scalp where it burned. "I'm not a dog."
He grinned, only the corner of his mouth turning up. "You'd be lucky to be a dog. At least I have a bit of affection for them."
He stepped over me, kicking back with the heel of his shoe so that it struck me in the chest, knocking the wind from my lungs. Without concern, he strode away from me, his steps becoming quieter as he disappeared around a corner.
Left alone, I examined the space looking for anything I could use to fight or escape. There was nothing, the hall so bare that it reminded me of the hospitals I'd been locked in as a young child. It was never my fault, but I was still the one punished for my mother's superficial desires and crimes.
Like a nightmare I couldn't escape, the hall lengthened, an optical illusion created by the absolute sameness of every surface. My knees were banged up and the palms of my hands felt shredded, but the instinct to escape powered me forward, crawling like a small child slowly, but determined, down the hall.
Footsteps ... dual, rhythmic, synchronized ... two men turning the corner and stopping to watch my pathetic struggle. I glared at them, caught off guard by their appearance, but refusing to cower beneath the weight of their stare.
Recognition flared inside me.
No.
Not him.
The man I recognized from the past laughed, patting Anthony on the back. "Good luck with her, old friend. Even beat down and broken, she keeps going." He smiled, dropping down to crouch and look me in the eye. "Tell me, woman: how will you get past us once you finish crawling the length of the hall?"
I stopped, my body positioned like a wild animal trapped in a cage. A snarl passed over my lips, my eyes narrowing with disgust and bitter humiliation. I’d broken free from this bastard before – from all of them. I was never going back.
He was amused, his emerald green eyes sparkling with evil and abusive intent. Standing straight, he leaned one shoulder against a wall, a key casually swinging from his finger. "Don't let me stop you, love. Crawl towards your Master." He angled his head toward Anthony on that last cryptic word.
I glanced between the two men - one who mocked me, and the other who remained still and silent, his amber gold eyes seething with pent up rage. With eyes locked to my face, he reached out and gripped his hand around the key the other man had tossed to him.
"She's all yours, Anthony. Dirty, bruised, and I imagine she smells as bad as she looks." Pushing up to his full height, the muscles of his chest flexed with silent laughter. "Have fun."
The black silk of his pants danced around his legs and feet as he walked out of the hall, leaving me alone with Anthony.
"Would you like to crawl back where I left you, or do you prefer to be dragged?"
No emotion, no tone to his exotic voice that gave away weakness. He was neither angry nor amused, his face a blank slate that was more terrifying than rage would have been.
I didn't move, didn't back down despite the way my body trembled. Instead, I growled.
His eyes shadowed with the tempting promise of sex, his mouth puckering in response to my feeble attempt at intimidation. "Now that is the first thing you've done that I can agree with." Crouching down, he motioned with a single finger for me to approach him. "Come here, beautiful girl. Allow me to show how excited I am by that sound."
"Fuck you, asshole."
"Is that a promise?" Mockery and scorn, spoken with a voice that would make most women melt. "I'm tired of playing games, Carla. It's late and it's time for me to put my toy to bed."
Anger boiled in me, contempt and rage lacing my blood, bringing back visions of the bastards who came before this one. They'd called me a toy, and they'd paid for that vile word.
"I am not a fucking toy, you sick son of a b..."
He was on me in an instant, unforgiving and without the tender touch he'd shown me while cleaning my wounds. Two men locked in one body...this one brought to the surface with a rush of justified wrath.
My body was lifted in the air, my thin robe opening and exposing me as he carried me over his shoulders. I tried to kick, but he gripped his fingers into one calf, paralyzing me with the pain. My fingers raked across his back, my nails not long enough to damage the skin beneath his shirt. Fire shot across my skin, the impact of his palm against my ass shocking me into compliance long enough for him to unlock a door and step inside.
Pure darkness now and a dip in temperature that forced goosebumps across my skin. Pushing against his back, I raised my torso enough to grab his hair, but by the time I caught the strands, I was being thrown onto a mattress, the springs screaming beneath my weight.
A fury of arms and legs and teeth, my body bucking against him as I desperately fought against the chains he was attaching to me. He was too strong - too fast - a force that had the advantage in this frantic and futile struggle. His hands were so warm in contrast with the cuffs and shackles, his palms sliding away from my skin when I was secured in place.
I screamed. Not the shrill scream of a terrorized woman, but the battle cry of a warrior stepping up to the slaughter.
It was too dark to see him, my eyes not yet adjusted to the room. But an amused and depraved chuckle echoed when my voice was finally silent.
Two hands slowly clapped.
"That was impressive, beautiful girl." His disembodied voice was alluring, hypnotic in the subtle notes of his accent. "I love a woman with spirit. Why would you ever want to just throw it all away?"
"It's my life! I can do what I want with it, you sick fuck!"
Silence, thick and suffocating. My senses stripped by the lack of sound and sight. The only thing I could feel was the crushing cold in the room.
"What you would have so easily thrown away, I have acquired. Your life is no longer yours, but mine. One man's trash is another man's treasure, yes?"
"No." I spit out. "It doesn't work that way."
Another menacing bit of humor bubbled from his chest. "It does now." A warm palm touched my cheek, his fingers digging into the skin to hold me in place as soon as I attempted to jerk away.
"I recommend you sleep. Tomorrow will be a very busy day." Placing a soft kiss on my forehead, he released me and I watched the shadow of his body cross the room. The light of the hall backlit his broad frame as he opened the door. I could only see his outline when he turned back to say, "I do apologize for the knot you'll have on your forehead. I don't enjoy damaging my toys."
The door clicked closed, rendering me useless on the thin bed. The blind, cruel darkness consumed me with gluttonous greed.