Tears of Tess
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 br**sts, 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 ni**les 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 na**d br**sts jiggled as I tried to get free.
Q grunted and sat up, straddling me, cupping my br**sts. “What is your name?” His lips pulled back from his teeth as he twisted my ni**les 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**king 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.”
I scrambled to my knees, reaching for it. No, he couldn’t take it. It linked to my past, linked to Brax, to who I was deep inside—the tame, sweet girl who wanted nothing more than to belong.
Tears caught in my throat. “I told you what you want. I’m yours. Please, give it back. I’m yours!”
His powerful body tightened, buttoning his blazer with precise movements. The silver tantalized in his fingers before he shoved it into a suit pocket. “You say the words but you don’t believe it. I told you. I don’t like liars.”
He turned and opened the door, fingers turning white around the doorknob. “Stay up here. Your punishment for not obeying is starvation. Good night.”
Swiping his face, he left.
Chapter 12
*Wren*
That night, I dreamed.
I dreamed of red and passion and violence. Of being taken, owned, possessed—of Q filling me with hardness, f**king me over the pool table.
I woke to my fingers sliding in my wetness. Toes curled and back arched as the orgasm Q denied me rippled with an intensity echoing in my teeth.
My heart raced as I came back to earth, uncramping my feet. A damp spot formed below my ass and cheeks pinked with how wet I was. But lying in the dark, stomach empty, heart ruined, I found peace.
My body no longer throbbed, and for the first time in weeks, I slept soundly.
* * * * *
Time slowed.
Seconds crawled into unwilling minutes, turning into tomorrow and next week. Q didn’t come find me, and I never saw him return home from work.
But I knew when he arrived, as the house filled with passionate music. Lyrics thrummed, stroking with warning. He lived in the same house as me—any moment he could come, but never did.
Most of the time, music throbbed with French laments, but then one night, an English song rained from the speakers.
Every second my temper frays, every moment my beast desires
you think you can win, but you’re not consumed by sin
delicate and sweet are no match for hell and ruin
I don’t want you to see the depth of my blackness
for there-in lie demons and nightmares
don’t look in my eyes, the truth is not for you
you should run, you should flee, you should hide away forever
I couldn’t describe the loneliness aching in my bones. The song reached like a plea, freezing me with confusion.
Ever since that night and the painful song, I couldn’t shake the feeling Q tried to tell me something in the music he played. But I couldn’t believe it, because if I did—what did that mean? I couldn’t feel sorry for my captor. I had to remain aloof, distant. Be that icicle—sharp and deadly.
Life settled into a rhythm: an unwanted rhythm, but an ebb and flow nevertheless. I drifted along, wondering why Q granted peace and left me alone. Did he grow bored of his new possession already? Or did work demand his time and graced me with a limited amount of freedom?
Whatever the reason, Sunday burned my memory as the day Q twisted my emotions so much, I found a place inside where I could run. In a way, he taught me how to save myself, even as he broke me further.