by Jane Henry
My jaw drops, but he isn’t bluffing. I can tell by the determined look in his eyes he’ll do just that.
“Fine, then, you brute.” He doesn’t flinch. I take a bite of bread, then follow it with a little broth. Tiny nibbles seem to ease a minuscule bit of the shakes and nausea, but I can’t eat much.
“I’ve had enough,” I tell him. “I can’t eat anymore.”
He pushes the tray aside. “That’ll do then, for now. Tomorrow we’ll try again.”
I look out the window, almost surprised to see it’s pitch black outside. But still, the pain in my body burns. I don’t know how I’ll sleep without something to soothe me.
“I need it to help me sleep,” I say. I know before I finish my sentence, he won’t give me what I’m longing for.
“Not tonight,” he says. “If that means you don’t sleep, then you don’t, but eventually you’ll be tired enough you’ll get some rest.” He knows what “it” is. I should be ashamed of that. I’m almost relieved.
“You don’t know that.”
He half-smiles. “Then we’ll see, won’t we?”
To my shock, he produces a pair of handcuffs from the bedside table. I blink at the cold, harsh metal, but he doesn’t do anything with them. He places them beside me.
“You may not leave,” he says. “Tonight, I’ll sit by the door until you sleep, but if you set foot out of this bed without my permission, I’ll restrain you.”
I glare at him, but he continues.
“You may use the jacks with permission as well, but that’s it.”
“You’re treating me like a prisoner.” What the hell is this torture?
He chuckles mirthlessly. “Not like a prisoner.”
Wait.
What?
My God. I won’t be able to get away? I can’t escape this?
I’m out of the bed before I know what I’m doing. My hand’s on the doorknob when he reaches me. He’s got me up in his arms, and I’m flailing, shoving, screaming. His palm cracks against my arse, hard and punishing, but I pay it no heed. I can’t stay here. I can’t allow him to keep me like this.
He spanks me again, his voice harsh and angry, but I don’t hear what he says, and I don’t stop until he’s got me on the bed. He restrains me as easily as if I were a child. He’s so damn strong. The next thing I know, my wrists are in cuffs, fastened to his headboard.
“Let me go!” I scream, which earns me the gag he promised me downstairs. Within five minutes, I’m fully restrained, gagged, and cuffed. The tears are back, and so is the relentless pounding of my heart and body.
Someone comes to the door and he lets him in. My head lolls, and I don’t even look to see who it is. Another man’s voice. He enters the room and speaks to Tiernan.
Then finally, finally, to my utter relief, he actually gives me what I need.
There’s a pinch, and a needle slips into my vein. I cry with relief. Warmth overcomes me, and I settle into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Chapter 7
Tiernan
“Likely opiates, among other things,” Sebastian says, sharing a drink with me in the living room while Aisling rests. “They’d frown upon my methods in a detox clinic, but it’ll do the trick.”
Sedation, he said.
I nod and give him a grim smile. I clink my glass to his. “They’d frown upon mine as well, but it’ll get the bloody job done.”
He snorts. “Spanked her arse, then?”
I shrug. “Gave her a good smack to settle her down, but no full punishment or the like. Threatened it, though.”
He snorts. “I’ve seen worse on these grounds.”
That he has. The interrogation room in the basement’s been used for everything from questioning to execution so many times I sometimes wonder if the screams of our victims have permeated the walls. He’s seen the good, the bad, and the ugly. Births of babies and pregnancies, miscarriages and illness, the flu and the common cold, as well as knife wounds, bullet wounds, and several near-death experiences.
Sebastian’s been the Clan doctor since I was a young lad here. He tends to everything from the injuries we sustain to the sedation of prisoners. Sworn to secrecy, he’s trustworthy, and before I even came here, there was nothing he hadn’t seen.
“What’s the plan, then, doc? Can’t very well sedate her for the next however many days, now, can we?”
He shakes his head. “That’ll do for tonight, to get her to sleep, and it’ll appease a fraction of the symptoms, but after that, you’ll have to help her.”
“Aye,” I say with a wry snort. “Keenan put me on this.”
He nods. “Heard the story. Could be worse, lad.”
“Oh, aye.”
“She’s a fucking looker, isn’t she?”
Christ, but she is.
I nod and give him a wary look that makes him shake his head.
“Now, Tiernan, I bloody well know she’s yours, lad.”
I grunt. “What can I expect over the next few days?”
“Tonight, likely wasn’t just her symptoms that caused her to behave the way she did. She was angry and scared, no doubt.”
I nod.
“And it’s not always as dramatic as all that. She will have some shaking and anxiety. Will talk in her sleep and maybe have a hard time with even that. I can give her something to help her sleep, non-habit forming so we don’t complicate the situation.”
“Aye.”
“Most important thing is to cleanse her body of the toxins. She won’t want to eat, but it’ll help the symptoms if she does. Get her into a regular habit of eating and drinking, showering a few times a day.”
“Showering?”
“Aye. She’ll perspire in withdrawal, but the water will also be soothing for detox, will ease some of the symptoms of withdrawal.”
“I see.”
He frowns. “She may hallucinate.”
“I think she already has.”
“She’ll talk in her sleep and will beg you to give her a fix.”
Bloody hell. I snort. “Sounds like a bloody cakewalk. When does it get hard?”
He laughs and bumps his fist to mine. “Atta boy, Tiernan. She’ll be out of this… better, anyway… in about three days.”
After talking me through it, he leaves.
I stand and run my fingers through my hair, watching her in her slumber. She’s so peaceful, it’s hard to imagine she’s the same lass who writhed and screamed like she was possessed with demons just an hour ago.
I sigh. Bloody hell, that’s exactly what’s possessed her.
I walk in the room and lean my hip against the doorway. Watching. She’s as peaceful as an angel when she sleeps. It’s hard to believe the beautiful woman who lies slumbering on my bed’s the same girl my sister grew up with.
I shake my head.
She was pretty when I knew her.
She’s fucking gorgeous now. I turn away and head to the shower.
I strip off my clothes and welcome the scalding water. I remember what it was like being in here with her, when she offered herself to me the way she did. I hate that she feels she can use her body as a weapon. My hands clench into fists. She shouldn’t tempt me. I was fucking half a breath away from taking advantage of her.
I groan and stroke my cock at the memory of her, trembling and naked while the water caressed her body. I stroke harder and faster until I come, but it doesn’t bring me the relief I crave. I feel empty and vapid.
Tonight’s changed everything.
I tug on a pair of boxers and crawl in bed next to her. Thanks to Sebastian’s medication, she’s dead asleep and doesn’t even stir. Wish I had some of that myself. I toss and turn, until I finally roll over and drag my arm around her. It’s to keep her safe, I tell myself. I eye the metal cuffs at her wrists and frown. Can’t be comfortable. How will she get away if she’s tucked against me?
I get the key and unlock the cuffs. Her wrists fall down onto the bed. I rub out the red marks around her slender w
rists, and even though she can’t see me, I can’t help but bring my lips to the marks and kiss them. She sighs in her sleep, and her head drops to my shoulder, her hair still damp from the shower.
I inhale the scent of lavender.
It isn’t purple, she’d said, her brow furrowed in confusion. I smile at the memory, lift the blanket, and tuck it around her. I roll her over, tuck her against me, and spoon her from behind. I close my eyes, my arm draped over her. She won’t go anywhere tonight.
I wake early the next morning to her writhing and thrashing.
“Easy, Aisling.” She’s still tucked under my arm, but she’s trying to get out.
“Let me go!” She’s trying to lift my arm off her with difficulty. I tighten my grip.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Watch me!” She rolls over and shoves me so hard she almost budges me. I push up on my elbow, grab her wrists, and capture both of them in my right fist while I reach for the cuffs with the left.
“No!” she screams. “Not again. Leave me alone!”
“Only if you behave yourself.”
“I’ll behave!” she whines, and it’s almost pathetic how sad she looks. “Please. No more cuffs.”
I hold the cuffs and eye her warily. Her face is flushed red and dotted in perspiration. Her eyes are dilated, and her whole body trembles. I drape the blanket over her.
“Get some more sleep,” I order, my own voice husky from sleep. I’m goddamn exhausted. But I know before I say it that it’s no use. She couldn’t sleep now if she wanted to. The momentary reprieve has lifted, and she’s back to battling the withdrawal symptoms.
So I do what I have to. I help her in the shower, and I feed her breakfast. She doesn’t take kindly to being without what she wants so badly, but the food and showers and rest, and the small bits of respite Sebastian gives her, helps.
A part of me thought that I would hate this, that I’d resent this punishment Keenan gave me. But I almost like it.
Ever since I was a child, I looked after someone. Between my mom’s alcoholism and our poverty, there were many responsibilities I carried. I had to feed my younger siblings, keep them out of my mom’s way, make sure she didn’t lash out and hurt them. I had to fill their bellies and keep them safe, and I did it gratefully. Grateful I could have a hand in making sure they were safe.
A part of me likes knowing that soon she’ll be out of this personal hell.
I want the woman who emerges from this cocoon.
But she doesn’t make it easy.
“Eat your sandwich, Aisling, I tell her at lunchtime, pointing to the pressed panini and bowl of soup on her tray.
She’s dressed in a pair of joggers and a t-shirt. Her hair’s in a wild, messy bun that flops on top of her head, and she’s eying the food with trepidation.
“I’m not hungry.”
Sebastian said she wouldn’t have much of an appetite, but that doesn’t mean I’ll allow her to get away with not eating. She has to keep her strength up and food will help.
“You know the rule by now.”
She sighs. “Oh, aye,” she says with a frown. “Of course I do. Do what you tell me.”
I smile at her. “Fast learner.”
“Or what?” Her eyes are dancing a little today, and it excites me. She’s never given me a look like that before.
I shake my head. “You know exactly what will happen.”
She rolls her eyes and takes a tiny bite of her sandwich, when a knock sounds outside the bedroom.
I check the security feed on my phone.
Cormac.
I open the door and let him in, the door to my bedroom shut tight.
“Y’alright, Cormac?”
He nods. “Oh I’m alright. Question is, are you? You look bloody awful, mate.”
I shrug. “Doing fine. Should be another day or so before things…” I look at the door. “Ease up.”
He sits on the overstuffed chair in my living room. “How are you helping her through it?”
I shrug. “Showers. Feeding her. Making sure she doesn’t harm me or anyone else. Making sure she doesn’t escape.”
I take a long pull of tea from my mug.
“Have you tried sex?”
I sputter it everywhere, and he grins.
“Sex? For drug withdrawal?”
“Oh, aye,” Cormac says, stroking his thick beard. “Make the lass climax, take her brain off of everything for a little while. It’ll help...” He shrugs. “Honestly, both of you.” There’s a crash and howl from the other room.
I race to the door to yank it open, only to find it locked.
“Aisling! Let me in!”
“No!”
Cormac’s brows shoot heavenward. “This far in, and she’s still talking to you like that?”
I don’t respond. She won’t be for long. I’ve held her while she cried, rocked her while her body was wracked with fever and pain, and now she’s acting like this? I don’t care if she’s still in the throes of withdrawal. I don’t care what she’s doing. She won’t behave this way.
Doesn’t matter if she locked the door. I have the key in my pocket.
I slide it in and open the door, just as a soup bowl goes sailing through the air toward my head.
I duck. It crashes and splatters everywhere.
Cormac shakes his head.
“I’ll leave you to your… job,” he says with a smirk. “Good luck, Tiernan. Call me if you need a bit of a reprieve for the night and I’ll arrange for someone else to watch her for a little while.”
The hell I will. No fucking way.
“Thanks very much,” I say. He’ll show himself to the door.
I enter the room to find another glass sailing through the air toward my head.
“How dare you keep me prisoner!” she shouts. “I won’t tell anyone anything. You’re keeping me away from everything! My job. My home. My friends.”
But I know what she really wants is her fucking fix, and I’ve had enough. I duck another flying saucer, bend and duck, lift and arrange her right over my shoulder.
“Put me down!” she shouts, slapping at my back. I put her down when I’m good and ready, straight over my fucking knee. I sit on the edge of the bed and press my hand to her lower back, holding her in place.
“Let me go!” she screams, but I ignore her. Without prelude, I slam my palm against her arse, and she arches her back and screams.
“Let me down! Let me go!” But I ignore her protests and give her the sound thrashing she’s earned. Her legs scissor and kick and she fights me hard, but I hold her in place and let my palm fly.
She screams and howls and squeals, but I don’t put her down until her protests begin to wane, and she sniffles a little. Good. I’ve gotten through to her.
I tug her back over my lap to face me, grab her chin between my fingers, and lock her gaze with mine.
“Don’t you ever throw things at me again,” I say in an even tone. “Ever.”
The anger and fight have left her eyes. They’re now swimming with tears. She nods.
“Be a good girl, Aisling. If you don’t, you’ll be in a heap of trouble, lass.”
She nods again.
I lean in and kiss her cheek. I remember what Cormac says. I drag my hand over her shoulder, and she shivers a little. She wears a thin tank top with no bra, her nipples peaking right through the ribbed fabric. I drag my hand lower, weigh her breast in my palm then drag my thumb over the peaked bud.
She moans, and it spurs me on.
“Take it off.”
She scrambles to obey, her fingers at the edge of the top in seconds. She yanks it off and whips it to the floor. I lace my fingers behind her back, bend, and grasp her nipple between my teeth. Her head lolls back and her spine arches as I suckle her sweet, hardened nipples. I circle my tongue, and she moans.
I press my thumb between her thighs, and she arches into me. I lift my fingers to the edge of her shorts, pull them back, then slide my fi
ngers over her panties to where she’s hot and wet. I stroke her gently, and she moans and whimpers. It’s better than the crying and pleading.
I’m not surprised to find her wet and needy, ready to come at a moment’s notice. I continue to suckle her nipple while I stroke her pussy, until her hips are jerking, her body arches, her breathing becomes hitched, and I increase the tempo of my strokes.
“Good girl,” I whisper, before I capture the second nipple between my teeth and give it the same treatment as the first. “Just like that. Take your mind off your troubles.”
She’s panting, grinding against my hand, as I continue to suckle and tease, lick and stroke.
She lets out a low-pitched moan, and I know she’s going to lose it at any moment. I bend and whisper in her ear. “Come, Aisling.” Just before I take her earlobe between my teeth and bite.
Holding her breath, her body tight with tension, she throws her head back, and with one more stroke of my fingers, she comes so hard she screams, the sexy sound of her voice filling my room.
“Good girl,” I whisper. “Just like that.”
She shakes her head but doesn’t reply, as her body spasms against my fingers and she whimpers. Her hips jerk, arms strewn about my neck as if to prevent herself from falling.
When she’s done, I hold her to me, and her breathing steadies.
I hold her to me. “Did that help?”
She nods wordlessly, but her grip tightens.
“Do you want me to make you come again?”
She shakes her head. “Not sure I could take more than that right now.”
I nod. My cock’s ramrod straight and hard as fuck, but there’s plenty of time for me. She’s my primary concern right now.
She’s as docile as a well-fed kitten at the moment, so I take her chin and bring her eyes to mine. “Why’d you throw that soup bowl at me?”
“I… didn’t want to eat it?” she looks almost normal for a moment, not like the addled woman who’s been writhing in my bed for two days.
I growl.
“I was angry,” she said. “That you’re keeping me prisoner.”
