My heart leaped free from my flogged and hurting body as Q strode into the room. He moved with angry grace, hands curled, mouth pursed. But his eyes—I’d never seen such rage contained.
“Putain de bâtards,” Q seethed, pulling a gun from his lower back, stalking toward where Brute lay whimpering on the floor. “You f**king touch a girl of mine and think you could survive?”
Brute reached for him, eyes imploring mercy. “We only took what we used to get from your family. Nothing more.” Blood and spittle flew from his mangled mouth.
Q closed his eyes, body shuddering. When he glared at Brute, so many things raged in his face, I ached. “Consider this payment for the past and present.” He squeezed the trigger and Brute existed no more. The back of his head exploded with red mist and I scrambled away, huddling on the mattress.
Q turned to me with terrifying calmness. “Ah, esclave.” He inched closer, tucking the gun away. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
In that moment, in my fragile and broken state, my feelings for Q changed. He morphed from monster to saviour. He did what Brax hadn’t done in Mexico: he found me, killed for me. He rescued me from horror and protected me from the bastards who hurt.
Q was no longer the devil.
He was my master and I belonged to him.
Chapter 16
*Pigeon*
Murmuring in French, Q carried me through the house.
He found a blanket and bundled me up, speaking tenderly, as if I’d bolt at any moment. His touch feather-soft when he scooped me in his arms, but eyes glinted with fierce anger. His anger petrified, but I allowed myself to be gathered, cared for—kept safe.
In his arms, I found comfort I craved. His heavy heartbeats soothed more than words and I nuzzled into his neck, drowning myself in citrus and sandalwood. Q came for me. Q wanted me.
His guards stayed behind to deal with the bodies, and I started to tremble. Q’s arms bunched beneath my weight, holding me closer. “It’s over. You don’t have to fear,” he whispered. “I’ll kill anyone who hurts you.”
In his voice, the truth blazed bright. I believed him, completely and utterly. Q did for me what no one else had done: protected me. He fought harder than my parents ever did, and put Brax’s strength to shame. Q came after me like I meant the world to him, showing just how lonely and adrift I’d been.
Cold night air refreshed as we strode from the house and Franco jumped to attention. He opened the rear car door. Q slid in, with me still in his arms.
No one said a word the entire drive back to the mansion. Q did nothing but hold me, and for that, I was thankful. He let me drench his gorgeous graphite suit with salty tears as I relived what I’d been through. He squeezed tight when my trembling got so bad my teeth chattered.
I hated my stubbornness, my fight. I did this. Because of my stupidity, I ran into a situation that broke me.
The drive seemed both an eternity and a microsecond. When we drove up the sweeping driveway to Q’s stunning home, he kissed my temple, murmuring, “You’re safe.”
The two little words shot deep into my heart, irrevocably changing me. They opened the floodgates, and everything I knew, disappeared. Everything I had been, became nothing. The Tess who loved Brax, who fought to escape, vanished. She wasn’t worthy of Q’s protection. Wasn’t worthy of being rescued by a man who killed for her.
Q was right: I was safe with him. He made it so simple. I couldn’t comprehend how I ran before. I ran from Q’s safety, and monsters found me in the dark.
My heart wept for what I did, and fear clutched at the thought of leaving Q’s name on Brax’s answer machine.
I’d been problematic and wilful, but Q claimed me anyway. He was the first to chase me and blissful happiness warmed inside to finally have someone who wouldn’t let me go. His reasons were flawed and wrong, but knowing he would find me settled my mind, lending strength to deal with the rape.
Q did many things, but he never broke me. He offered things my body wanted without me knowing what those things were.
He was my home. My master. My new life.
My past didn’t define me. The horrible rape didn’t define me. Q defined me and he wanted me to be his esclave.
Why hadn’t I seen so clearly before? A huge weight lifted off my shoulders; I sighed with complete submission.
Q shifted, looking down, but I snuggled closer and didn’t look up. I had to make it up to him. To apologise, so he never sent me away at the mercy of the world again.
The car rolled to a stop and Franco opened the door. Q kept me tight in his arms, carrying me into the house.
The moment the door closed, contentment washed over me. Home.
Suzette skidded from the lounge. She looked at me in Q’s arms, clutching her chest with profound relief. “Oh, dieu, merci.”
He nodded slightly as Suzette came closer, brushing her hand over my blanket clad body. “I’m so happy Q found you. You’re part of this family, ami. Don’t run again.”
My body twitched. Ami. Suzette called me her friend.
Fresh tears sprouted for leaving her, for being so selfish. Brax didn’t need me anymore, but Q and this new life did.
Q rumbled a noise and strode up the stairs. Suzette watched us go. I expected Q to take me to my room, but on the first floor he slowed, and opened a door. My eyes widened as he carried me into the most amazing space I’d ever seen.
On the walls were life-size stencils of a carousel: a prancing pony, a carriage, a dancing bear, a soaring eagle. It should’ve been childish to have black and white images of a fair ride but it gave the room elegance, a whimsical edge playing well with the rest of the black and white theme. A four poster bed with white lacquered posts, and silver sweeping drapes welcomed, but Q didn’t head for the bed. He stalked to the bathroom, where iridescent tiles, double walk-in shower, and Jacuzzi bath invited.
Q marched straight into the shower, before slowly setting me down. I clung to his shoulders as he let go. I didn’t want him to leave. He was the only thing keeping my thoughts centred on him, and not what happened. I lingered in denial, refusing to dwell on what occurred. I shied away from the memory, letting it fester, layering with insecurity, pain, and overwhelming grief.
My life was no longer perfect—I ruined it by running. I throbbed with need for Q to forgive me. To say he would never let me escape again.
Q stared into my eyes. His pale green ones turned to pea soup as sadness glittered. Something silent passed between us. Reaching behind me, he turned the shower on.