Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire

by Aleatha Romig

  My body went from strong and defiant to fluttering and delicate. “I need you to care for me. Promise you’ll share your life and not shut me out. I want to know who Quincy is. I want to belong to Q. I want you to be honest with yourself that I mean something to you, too. Do you have that in you, Q? To care for me completely, so I can give you what you need?”

  He dropped his head, suddenly nuzzling my neck. Hiding his thoughts and feeling in my blonde curls. “You’re asking for an impossibility. You’re asking me to love you.”

  My heart squeezed at the pain in his voice. Eyes glowed with agony as he pulled away. “I can’t. I don’t know how. The things I did to you were tame to what I really want. I can’t stop it. I can’t control it.” He pushed me away, hands shoving deep into his pockets. Walking away, he barricaded further connection. “Who wants to hurt someone so much if they’re supposed to love them? Who wants to see them writhe in agony and completely submit? No one sane. I’m fucked up, esclave. I can’t give you what you want.”

  Esclave.

  My body shuddered. Q’s face tightened with need, realizing what he said.

  “Did you call any other girl esclave?” I noticed he called the girl in the lounge Sephena—a name, not a title.

  Eyes glinted, shaking his head.

  I stepped forward, trapping him by the fireplace. “Whatever you think of yourself, you do care. You gave me the sketchpad. You gave me what I needed after I was raped. You’re a good person, Q. A saviour to so many women. I want to make you happy.”

  Q sucked in a heavy breath, watching with unreadable eyes as I reached up, cupping his throat. He stood taller as I squeezed, flaring with power at the thought he let me dominate. I said what I came to say, I needed to hear his proclamation to be satisfied.

  Pressing against his larynx, I whispered, “Did it hurt you, sending me away?”

  When he didn’t answer, I leaned in, tightening my fingers. He swallowed beneath my touch, Adam’s apple bobbing with masculinity.

  He glared, waging an internal war. I knew he wanted to shrug me off—and he could—there was nothing I could do to stop him, but he let himself be ruled, just for a moment. Finally, something unlocked in his eyes; heart-shattering passion blazed. He nodded. “Yes.”

  I could barely breathe. “Yes, you hurt?”

  He rolled his shoulders, breaking my hold on him. He towered over me, gathering shadows from the room, crackling with energy. “Yes, I fucking hurt. I haven’t slept well in weeks. I can’t go in my bedroom because I get so hard. I fucking come twice a day remembering how you writhed beneath the whip. How your skin flushed and crested with red.” He stopped, breathing hard. His body beseeched mine and I struggled to stay frozen.

  Dragging hands over his head, he forced himself to go on as if the confession was the hardest thing he ever had to do. “You’re everything I’ve been looking for and you scare me shitless. You want me to hurt you! You’re fucking crazy for taunting me that way.” In cobra-strike quickness, he kissed me hard. “I’m terrified I’ll end up killing you.”

  We locked eyes, overcome with truth. My blood thrilled at the thought of his deep desires.

  With shaky hands, I unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it aside under his blazer. Every button, he breathed harder, until his chest strained and panted. My own breath matched his.

  “Stop it, Tess.”

  I swallowed. “You won’t kill me. You wouldn’t go that far.” I traced inked sparrows on his skin, following ribs, and hard planes of delectable muscle. “I know you deplore what happened to the women you save. You won’t turn me into a broken shadow of myself. Your ferocity feeds me.” I ducked to nip his nipple, teeth aching to draw blood. “Whatever you give, I can take… as long as I know how you feel.”

  My fingers etched brambles and barbwire going around his side, pulling him into me. Q flatly refused to come. Back muscles tensed as he denied my request.

  I groaned, loving his strength. His control. But I wanted him closer. Glaring, I pressed against him from toes to chest.

  Q ground his teeth, eyes growing heavy with lust. He stood perfectly still, not uttering a word. His power, his rage, filled the library, threatening.

  “Tell me…” I murmured. “Speak to me…”

  Q sucked in another shuddering breath as I stood on tiptoes, licking his bottom lip.

  He softened. The ridges of muscle at the base of his back trembled, leaning into me. “I will never get enough,” he whispered. “C’était la plus grosse erreur de ma vie de te renvoyer chez lui.” It was the biggest mistake of my life sending you away.

  Effervescent happiness. Complete sublime joy.

  “You’re willing to keep me? To hell with the police?” I licked the seam of his lips, capturing his ragged sigh.

  “There was no deal with the police. They congratulated me on saving such a strong slave.”

  Time froze. What?

  I pulled away, crying out as Q snapped, “You can’t tease and expect to get away without paying.”

  Arms tightened around me, plucking me from the floor as if I weighed nothing. Q carried me to the desk, swiping the contents off in one swift move. Pens clattered, papers fluttered, and a laptop smashed to the floor.

  Practically throwing me on top, he pressed hips violently against mine.

  Heat smoked and words disintegrated to cinders, but I clung to lucidity.

  I arched, clawing his forearms. “Stop… what do you mean?” My body swept control away, but I needed to understand. What the hell did he mean?

  Q groaned, thrusting his hard cock. I automatically wrapped legs around him, thrilling, filling with lava and need.

  “The police know what I do. Once the girls are… better… they find their loved ones and return them.” His eyes snapped closed as he thrust again, body shuddering with desire. He chuckled darkly, bowing over me. “They’ve been meddling in my love life since I was sixteen. They thought you were different. Hinting that I’d touched you, rather than helped you.” Eyes burned me with hot jade. “It freaked me the fuck out. They saw the truth and I knew I had to get rid of you before I killed you, or worse… turned you into what other sick masters do to their slaves.”

  He stopped thrusting, the sudden silence chilling me.

  “Don’t you see? I cared too much to do what I wanted. I made a promise. I won’t ever break that vow again.”

  My world shifted, turned from round to flat. Black and white became colour, night became day.

  Finally.

  The puzzle of Q Mercer made sense; I fitted the final piece. I wanted to hug and bite and slap and fuck him to death. He gave me up because he cared for me. Even though he swore he never could.

  I laughed. Men. Glorious stupid, egotistical men.

  My man.

  Mine.

  He stared deep into my eyes, not moving apart from a small pulse of his hips, barely detectable. I rocked, moaning as the seam of his fly teased through my dress.

  “Break your promise. Now. With me.”

  Q shook his head, even as hips pressed harder. “I can’t ever let myself free.”

  He groaned as I shot up and kissed him. Wrapping arms around his neck, I threw my entire being into the kiss.

  He fought for a millisecond, before kissing me back, plunging tongue deep and violent, taking possession completely. Brain muddled, breathing caught, and I no longer thought. I only felt.

  I nipped at his lip, fighting his tongue with mine. We fought our wordless battle, hearts racing to the same beat.

  He broke the kiss. Instead of lust and unbridled need, he was… sad, remote.

  I spread my legs further. No way would I let him over think this. He hissed as I arched my back, purring against his rigidness. “I need you—I need you to hurt me.”

  Something dark thickened the air, and I hid my smile. Quincy was losing to Q. Black desires slowly tearing at the cage he locked himself in. I’m winning.

  “You need me? Or you want me?” he growled, mouth pursed
as he thrust hard.

  I trembled and writhed, taunting, dangling the wanton little slave in front of a diabolical master. I panted, “Is there a difference?”

  In my mind, there wasn’t. Both were important. Life and death important with how my body heated and summoned for release.

  He grabbed my nipple through the silkiness of the dress, twisting, dragging another cry from my throat.

  “Do you need me as a man, or as your master?” he bit the words into pieces, a vein on his neck stood out as he unzipped his pants, pulling his straining erection free. “Is this what you’re begging for, esclave?”

  I nodded, unable to look away from his huge, delicious hard cock. “Yes. God, yes.”

  Fingers bunched my dress up my thighs, and he pushed aside my knickers. His finger disappeared inside with no gentle foreplay, but I was drenched for him. I bowed around his touch, whimpering with gratitude. So long. So, so long since I felt such rhapsody.

  He smeared wetness over my clit. My legs bound tighter, squirming away from the sharp edged pleasure. “Q… Master.”

  Never breaking eye contact, he curled fingers around my bird tattooed wrist, locking me in his dominance. His touch oozed sexual prowess, bending my will with nothing more than pressure.

  “Do you promise to tell me if I go too far? Do you promise you’ll never let me take away your spirit, your fight, your strength? You promise you’ll always stay strong.” His finger speared deep, stroking my g-spot.

  My mind shot blank. He wanted me to promise? Fine. I could promise. I came here to give him everything. If he needed it in blood, I would sign. I would autograph any contract, if it meant Q gave me himself entirely.

  His finger thrust, pressing incredibly deeper, dragging dark needs to the surface; I clenched, hungry, desperate for more. “Answer me, esclave,” he rasped.

  I looked deep into his eyes, imprisoning both of us. Irises were dark and smitten, lids heavy with lust. “I vow to fight you to the death before I let you break me.”

  Q withdrew his fingers, reaching over my head for a letter opener. The sharp glint of the blade sent my heart winging wild.

  “I’m a businessman, Tess. I don’t take promises lightly.”

  I scooted up, pushing my dress to cover myself. My body vibrated for his touch, but I saw how important this was to him. My chest ached. Q was going to agree to keep me. To allow me to share his world. I waited in thick anticipation. I would do anything to put his mind at rest.

  “You’re asking me to treat you like a slave, but also share my life with you?” His face was closed off, becoming perfectly Q again. “To allow me to control you, but also be an equal?”

  I nodded. “Exactly.”

  Eyes flashed and his fingers tightened around the letter opener. “I almost came to steal you back, you know.”

  My heart kicked into a higher gear; I fought the soft smile. “You did? Why?”

  He snorted, smiling wryly. “You know why. It’s been complete and utter hell. J’étais malheureux sans toi.” I’ve been miserable without you. Sighing heavily, he added, “The other girl, Sephena, arrived from some sadistic prick in Tehran a week after you left. All I could think about was you. You bowled through my front door, spitting, and so proud.”

  He cupped my jaw with angry fingers. “She was carried in by Franco because she passed out from fear of a new master, completely different to your ferocity.”

  He bowed his head, glaring at the blade in his hand. Determination and acceptance settled in his gaze. “You must never ever let me break you so completely. I need your fire, your temper. Your unbreakable will.”

  I slid off the desk, standing on crinkled paperwork, no doubt for another building merger. “I’ve already given you my promise, and you didn’t have to steal me. I returned.”

  He swallowed, and his face cleared from confusion and misplaced desires. Vivid excitement gleamed. He stood taller, light tempering his darkness as finally he understood what I offered. Finally understood I was powerful enough to stand up to the beast he lived with and collar it. I would let it hurt me, but never ruin.

  “I’ll try and give you what you want in return for two things.” He tugged a blonde strand, bringing me forward to plant a harsh kiss on my lips.

  “You only have to ask.”

  He murmured against my mouth, “I want you to work for me. I know you finished your exams. You’re qualified.”

  I looked up, mouth gaping open. Two things bowled me over. One, he trusted me to work in his multi-billion dollar company, and two: he’d spied on me. My soul flew. He hadn’t let me go after all. I’m happy he stalked and spied. Damn right, I was. Ecstatically happy.

  “And the other?”

  “Two others, actually.” He straightened, bracing himself. His face thundered with temper, rolling with heavy clouds. “If you ever sleep with another man again, I swear to God, I won’t be responsible for what I do. You went home to that boy Brax. You shared his bed for a month. That was the worst kind of torture, and I refuse to do it again.” He breathed hard, shaking his head, eyes haunted.

  I threw myself against him, kissing, climbing him. He crushed me, teeth bruising lips as if he wanted to replace all my thoughts with only him. He didn’t need to try. He did it effortlessly. When I could breathe again, I muttered, “That goes for you, too. No other women. I’m the one you whip and fuck.” Flashing him my tattoo, I said, “This little bird belongs in your cage. No one else.”

  He groaned, backing me against the desk again, rocking. I leaned back till my shoulders pressed hard wood. I grabbed his tie and forced him to fold over, warming me. His naked chest teased between the unbuttoned shirt and I ran fingers up his back, hissing as he bucked into me. Not caring I was wanton and brash and horny and all manner of hot, bothered things. It had been so long; I needed him so bad.

  Q nodded. “Sounds like a fair trade.”

  I smacked him lightly. “And your last condition?” I panted as his lips trailed down the side of my neck, disappearing between the valley of my breasts.

  Q bit my nipple through my dress and jagged lightning erupted through my belly. “I want to commit murder.”

  My heart stopped beating.

  “I’m going to put the bastards down who hurt you. I’ll personally make sure their entire operation is burned to the ground.”

  I jerked back, looking into furious eyes. I couldn’t breathe. He wants the same revenge I do. I didn’t even have to ask. He saw deeper than he even realized. However unconventional our relationship, it rang with rightness. Q spoke to me on a much deeper level than man and woman.

  I fully believed I was made for him and he was made for me. Two halves of the same fucked-upness. Two souls from the same twisted desires, unable to fully be free until we found each other.

  Throwing my arms around him, I breathed deep his heady scent of citrus and something darker, something pulling energy from my body. Transcending my soul from my mortal shell, ready to be claimed and taken.

  “You’re the one, Q Mercer. You were always the one.”

  Q blushed. The first time I’d ever seen shyness on a man so strong and bold. Pink tinged his perfectly sculpted cheekbones, melting me into a puddle. Will I ever get used to how much he means to me? Do I ever want to? I wanted to live my life in seventh heaven. Constantly in awe. Constantly needing.

  Q gritted his teeth, pulling the letter opener through a fleshy palm. A small line of blood welled. With his other palm, he grabbed my hand, locking eyes as he sliced my skin the same way.

  The burn was nothing. I welcomed it. I knew what Q wanted to do. It made complete and utter sense. Anyone else wouldn’t see how much I needed to mix our essence, our life force. But he did.

  This was a contract between two monsters fighting in the dark. Our blood was basic ink for such a deal—a deal of pain and endless pleasure.

  We clasped hands. Sonnets and thunder and every element in the universe shot through him to me. I shivered as Q growled, “I promise to pro
tect you, ravage you, hunt those who hurt you, and give you the life you deserve. My fortune is yours. My secrets are yours. And I will give you the corpses of the men who hurt you.”

  My body hummed with the pact we made.

  “I promise to fight you every hour of every day.”

  His lips curled in a cruel smile. “Welcome to my world, esclave. I fight my desires every second.”

  Unlatching our grip, he smeared our combined blood on my tattoo. “You’re the first bird I released who came back. The only bird.”

  Tears glassed my vision as I caressed his cheek. “I was always running to you. I just didn’t know it. My freedom is in your captivity, Q. I fly when I’m with you.”

  He licked his lips, worshipping awe and rapture in his gaze. “Je suis à toi.” I am yours.

  I shook my head. “Nous sommes les uns des autres.” We are each other’s.

  Epilogue

  Q Mercer

  ‡

  Twenty years ago

  Silence was my friend. Always had been. Probably always will be.

  Somehow, the air carried me, killing any noise I made, turning me into a shadow. I moved with stealth—a ghost—a phantom. Never a peep—never a sound.

  My parents lost me for two days once, and I never left the house. I disappeared inside the huge, rambling mansion we called home, drifting from room to room. Stealing food from the kitchen and camping inside giant, unused fireplaces.

  Secrets were hard to keep hidden from a silent, inquisitive eight-year-old. I saw the truth of what went on, and it made me sick to my stomach.

  My mother knew, but did nothing, preferring peach schnapps and Baileys to my father. And my father preferred slaves to his wife.

  I was five when I first heard the screams. Guttural calls for help, full of distress and heartache, followed by a horrible groan of pleasure and ecstasy.

  That was the first day I slipped into the forbidden room, and watched my father beat and rape a girl. Her ass blazed red as he pumped into her from behind.