BEAU2Y
A BLAIRE’S WORLD TITLE
by
KIRSTY DALLAS
International Bestselling Author
GRAY Publishing
by Anita Gray
Note to you from the Publisher,
BLAIRE'S WORLD is a spin-off series from Anita Gray’s Top 20 Amazon Bestselling, The Dark Romance Series, written by a collection of USA Today and Amazon Bestselling authors.
You do not need to read The Dark Romance Series in order to follow BLAIRE’S WORLD—however, please note: BLAIRE'S WORLD may contain spoilers to The Dark Romance Series.
You do not need to read BLAIRE’S WORLD in any particular order to enjoy the series—however, please note: You do need to read BEAUTY Part 1 before reading BEAUTY Part 2.
Anita Gray has had no creative influence over BLAIRE’S WORLD. The storylines are solely crafted by the authors.
BLAIRE'S WORLD has no affiliation to BLAIR3.
If you would like to discover where BLAIRE’S WORLD derives from, you can do so by visiting www.anitagrayauthor.com or by searching BLAIRE on Amazon.
BLAIRE’S WORLD TITLES
BEAUTY
BEAU2Y PART 2
LUNA & ANDRES
DEMETRIUS
SERAFINA
KRISTOFF
EVELINA
OLIVER
THE DARK ROMANCE SERIES
BLAIRE
BLAI2E
THE DARK ROMANCE SERIES BOX SET
Copyright © 2019 Kirsty Dallas and GRAY PUBLISHING: eBook edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. You are more than welcome to make teasers though and use quotes from the book. Word of mouth is a valuable tool in spreading book love, and far more admirable than spreading that love via illegal file-sharing sites.
PUBLISHED BY GRAY UPBLISHING
www.graypublishing.org
LINE EDITING BY ROBYN CORCORAN
FORMATTING BY KIRSTY DALLAS
COVER DESIGN BY Q Design
www.qcoverdesign.com
DEDICATION
For Doris
“Que será, será”
RIP
1922 - 2019
1
BEAUTY
Humming an inconsequential tune, my gaze wandered over the vast array of tools splayed across a long timber bench covered in a white plastic sheet. It was an interesting selection of paraphernalia, knives of all different shapes and sizes, surgical looking instruments, construction tools and other pieces not unlike the torturous sexual devices that had once been used on me. Memories screamed like wild animals inside my head, their relentless persistence for recognition making me wince. I didn’t need those reminders chipping away at the already crumbling walls of my sanity. Bad things happened to me, and I got my revenge, end of story. Since my escape, Hart spent every spare moment training me, making me stronger…better. I wasn’t innocent anymore, nor was I naive or weak. I was a badass bitch ready to destroy every rapist fuck that crossed my path, so why these incessant memories kept trying to tear my insides apart was both confusing and exhausting.
With my finger poised over the jagged blade of a steel saw, I pressed down hard. There was a little pressure followed by a sharp burning pain on the pad of my index finger, and when I pulled my hand away, blood pooled from a small cut and tumbled down my flesh. The dull throb helped mute the echoes of my screams. It had been purely by accident that I discovered how effectively pain could quiet the mind. My free hand hanging by my side brushed the spot under my jeans that still had a slight sting to it. A short, straight slice from a razor had helped distract my thoughts this morning, and barely discernible lines scattered around my thighs were proof I’d used this odd method of relief several times over the past month. Slipping my bleeding finger between my lips I sucked away the proof of my new-found addiction for pain. Somehow I’d managed to hide it from Hart, but for how long I didn’t know. He was far too astute not to notice, though for now business had him easily distracted.
The warehouse we were in was part of that business. Only a few blocks from the Baltic Sea, the briny tang of saltwater permeated the outside air. However, inside this windowless building much of that sea perfume was lost and in its place was a rotten, stale smell. Death, a scent I had become intimately acquainted with. Plastic drop sheets covered most of the floor and furniture, a table of torturous instruments sat before me, and rusty chains hung from a low rafter in the center of the room, it was easy to see that this wasn’t the first time this place had been used for the nefarious purpose of spilling blood.
My gaze left the table and found the three men I had accompanied here. Raul stood to Hart’s right, gifting me a cheeky smile and a wink. Viktor scowled from his other side, nothing new there, and Hart . . . well, he looked ready to devour me. Just the sight of him made me breathless, his possessive stare, flushed cheeks, and hair carelessly tossed forward to hang over one eye. The intense need burning in those dark depths as he watched me made that warm place between my thighs throb. In the six months since he’d freed me, we hadn’t had sex, but we’d done almost everything else. Touches with his hands, touches with his wicked mouth, touches I reciprocated wholeheartedly. I could still hardly believe this man was mine. One of Hart’s brows arched, his lips fighting a smile.
“Find what you were looking for, love?” He asked, his British accent as seductive as ever.
His reminder jolted me back into action. This was my final test, torture and mayhem 101. Tonight, I would be the one doing the torture as the men took a back seat to my art. Anticipation had filled my veins all day, leaving a restless and almost frantic feeling in my stomach. This was going to be epic. Before me was an assortment of interesting items that could be used for pain and suffering. My gaze lingered on an obscenely large knife, however Hart had been quite adamant that I not take the obvious, like a blade.
Improvise, be adventurous. Sometimes it’s the innocuous and unexpected that will break the staunchest of men.
Taking a few steps along the vast display, I paused as something caught my eye. Reaching out I ran my fingers over the red plastic handle of a heavy looking electric tool. Picking it up I tested its weight. It wasn’t nearly as heavy as it looked. Wrapping my hand around the handle, my injured finger caressed the trigger. It felt like a gun yet looked nothing like it. With a little pressure, I pulled the trigger. A high-powered whooshing sound filled the room, followed by a loud thud. I jumped, and the men all looked in my direction, confusion on Raul’s face, irritation on Viktor’s, and amusement dancing in Hart’s eyes.
“I choose this one,” I said with a smile and holding the nail gun high for them to see.
All Hart offered me was a subtle nod of approval, but it was enough to make me gleam with gratification. Strolling up to his side, I turned to face the man who currently hung from the rusty chains. According to one of Hart’s sources, Grigory Ivashin had been in Ruby’s company not more than three days ago. Ruby, the barely teenage girl, who had seemingly vanished though not completely without a trace. There were traces of her everywhere, but no Ruby. Fo
r six months we’d been following every trail and tip-off, but we were always one step behind. It was beginning to wear on all of us. Grigory vehemently denied knowing anything about Ruby. It was my job to unlock the secrets he was keeping, by any means necessary.
“Hey Gregory,” I casually greeted the man.
“It’s Grigory,” he growled, his blood-crusted lips snarling with anger. Raul and Viktor had softened him up for me with a few brutal punches. It hadn’t damped his acidic personality though.
“Hmmm.” My gaze perused his body and my nose scrunched. He was thin, like Algis, his ribs and hip bones protruding gauntly from his pale flesh. “My bestie, Raul here, tells me you have a picture of Ruby on your phone.”
A flash of fear appeared in his eyes, before disappearing once again behind a curtain of defiance.
“Like fuck I do,” he growled in a heavy Russian accent.
Raul stepped up alongside me and shoved a cell phone in Grigory’s face, which immediately paled.
“Does this look familiar?” Raul asked.
Grigory shook his head from side to side.
“Ahhh, Grigory. You know us well enough to know your lies are only going to make things worse for you.” When Grigory remained silent Raul pressed a numerical code into the cellphone, and found the icon for photos. “And your passcode was your date of birth, which is just plain lazy,” he continued, shaking his head. Raising the phone up before Grigory, Raul smirked. “Is that you with your hand down Ruby’s panties?”
A roar of disbelief swallowed all sound in the room as I snatched the phone from Raul’s hand. Sure enough, there was a picture of Grigory smiling, baring his dirty rotten teeth to the camera as a terrified Ruby was positioned before him, her arms pulled taut behind her and a rag stuffed in her mouth, secured with tape. Grigory’s disgusting hand was shoved down the girl’s panties and the panic in her eyes was my undoing. While silence may have filled the room, it wasn’t so quiet in my head. Oh no, up there, in my mind, I was screaming. He’d touched Ruby. Innocent, little Ruby. The incessant pounding of my rapid pulse was a deafening echo as my mind conjured up the atrocities this man may have committed against her. Air fought its way into my lungs as thoughts of the young girl mingled with my own horrifying memories. Such a mess, such a fucking, awful mess. The noise and visions were enough to drive anyone mad. Lucky for me, I was already there.
“Beauty?” Hart’s voice snapped my attention back to the present. “We need information,” he quietly reminded me.
Right, information. Then blood and death.
Hanging before me, Grigory watched with a pleasant mix of curiosity and now a little fear. The boldness was fading, we had him and he knew it. His shoulders were pulled taut, the weight of his body stretching his gangly limbs almost to snapping point. My eyes roamed over his pale, hairy flesh, before settling on his cinched wrists.
“He touched Ruby.”
“He did,” Hart whispered from behind me.
“I want to cut off his dirty fucking hands.”
Raul tried hard to muffle his laughter, though was quite unsuccessful.
“Do you have a knife?” Hart patiently asked.
Well, I could have, there were plenty laid out so prettily behind me. But I was improvising, so no, dang it, I didn’t have a knife.
Raising the nail gun I pointed it at Grigory’s forehead. His eyes widened with alarm, fear having him splutter out an obscenity before sobbing out the word please.
“Do you wish to confess your sins to Beauty?”
“What?” He asked with a gruff voice.
“I hate it when they ask what.”
Lowering the gun I pointed it towards one nipple and pulled the trigger. The loud bang was lost beneath Grigory’s screams.
“Before you die,” I went on, ignoring his blubbering as I shot another nail into his opposite nipple. The result was two flat silver discs in his chest, almost like some macabre form of jewelry. “You could unburden your soul. I mean, you’re going to hell no matter what, but maybe if you confess your sins you may not get raped up the ass with a barb wire post when you get there.”
The men behind me made soft, chortling noises. This time I pointed my weapon at the man’s limp penis.
“No, no, please, not there.”
I couldn’t stop the giggle that burst free. With my shoulders quaking with laughter, the nail gun became unsteady in my hands. When I pulled the trigger it missed his flaccid member and went through his upper thigh instead.
“Damn it, I missed,” I cursed, my laughter sliding away. I was genuinely angry with myself, wanting so badly to make Hart proud. Using two hands I steadied the electric tool in position, closing one eye and watching carefully down the narrow, cylinder barrel of my improvised weapon.
“Wait!” Grigory shouted. “They were Americans, they came for her . . . to take her home, I don’t know where she is.”
Pausing, I glanced at Grigory’s face, his eyes wide with fear. Pummel a man with fists and he keeps stubbornly silent, threaten his manhood and he becomes a blubbering fool ready to sell his soul for salvation.
“Americans?” I questioned, disbelieving.
“Yes, yes, Americans.” Desperation laced his words and his eyes shone with something akin to hope. Poor simple fool. He would soon become intimately acquainted with disappointment, because hope didn’t exist in this room. Only vengeance and death.
“They took her home?” I asked, trying to wrap my head around the information he’d given us.
“Yes, that’s all I know.”
Leaning in closer I examined Grigory for any signs he might be lying. Hart had explained that almost everyone has a tell when it comes to lying and deceit. Most people have obvious signs, like squirming, or refusing to look you in the eye. With his hands tied above him, I couldn’t really watch for any body language cues, but Grigory was staring me right in the eye, albeit nervously.
“So, they just came in and took her? And you let them?”
It seemed incredulous to think these American’s simply knocked on the door, asked for Ruby, and Grigory politely handed her over.
“I wasn’t there when they took her. My house has cameras, microphones, it is secure.”
“And yet they just broke in and stole her?” Raul asked, sounding just as skeptical as me.
“They blew up my kitchen to gain entrance, I wasn’t there at the time.”
“And your cameras survived?” It was Hart’s disbelieving voice that entered the conversation this time.
“The cameras in the kitchen were destroyed, but those in the rest of the house remained intact,” Grigory was quick to reply, peering over my shoulder, his attention now on Hart. “I saw and heard enough to know they were American. They told the girl, “we’re taking you home”, they said it just like that. And they were dressed like soldiers in combat clothing.”
The flood gates were open. Grigory spilled his information like an excited child. He’d also clearly dismissed me, his hopeful gaze shifting between the three men standing at my back. Such easy disregard of the woman who was supposed to be torturing and maiming him pissed me off. This was my interrogation. He was mine to torture. He’d touched Ruby, and I’d be the one to extract her vengeance. My anger began to simmer, low at first, as the men behind me continued to throw more questions at Grigory which he eagerly answered. With each question my temper grew, pulsating, twisting, knotting, becoming an uncontrollable rage. With a frustrated scream, I pointed the nail gun at Grigory’s dick and pulled the trigger. His pain-filled roar brought the questions to an abrupt end. Turning around to face the men at my back, I glared at each of them.
“He was mine,” I growled, stomping my foot.
Raul covered his grin with his hand, Hart’s lip twitched at one corner, and Viktor rolled his eyes. Him, I was sick to death of his disrespect. Pointing the nail gun at his head I pulled the trigger, the nail narrowly missing because Hart knocked my hand away at the last minute, causing my aim to go wide. It sti
ll got close enough to slice into his cheek, a drop of blood beading and spilling down his pale flesh, his eyes wide with fury. Viktor bellowed at me, and I took a step forward, fully prepared to meet him head on. Hart’s arms caught me up in a hug, spinning me away from the ugly damn Russian. Raul intercepted Viktor as Hart whispered calming words in my ear.
“Do you know how fucking beautiful you look right now? Ahhh, my sweet Beauty, you are but a vision. All flames and fire, like the goddess Tiamat.”
“Who?” I asked through gritted teeth, Hart’s words capturing my attention, dragging my ire away from Viktor.
“Tiamat, the goddess of the salt sea who in her rage takes the form of a beautiful five-headed dragon as she rains down wrath upon those that have wronged her. She is the embodiment of primordial chaos, much like you, hmmm?”
“I’m not sure if you’re paying me a compliment or mocking me.”
Hart cupped my cheeks, pulling my gaze away from Viktor.
“I would never mock you,” he exclaimed. His face full of serious lines, and his mouth pulled downward in a scowl. Nodding under his sturdy grip, I licked my lips, readying myself for the kiss I knew was to come. There was too much passion and emotion in the room for us to ignore the pull. As his lips pressed to mine, hard and demanding, I met him with the same fervor. I loved him like this, wild, as if his usual order and control had just taken wings and flown away, leaving behind an unrestrained man with untamed passion, just for me. Our tongues met, and the fire between us roared to life. All too soon it was over, and Hart abruptly stepped away. Stumbling forward I barely caught myself before falling into his chest.
“You make me forget myself,” he murmured, offering me a crooked grin. “You haven’t yet finished, and I’m hungry.”
BEAU2Y: Part 2: Blaire's World (Beauty's Duet #2) Page 1
