by Jane Henry
Did I say the name out loud?
“Yes, sir.”
And then I’m up in his arms and he’s pulling to me, and this is so familiar tears fill my eyes. The rollercoaster I’m on is plummeting downward again, and my heart can’t keep up with this. He tucks me close to him. I burrow right in, and when my cheek hits his chest, the clouds part once more, but this time, the light prevails.
“Marissa,” he whispers. “I am your master, and everyone we see must know that.”
But he isn’t my master. He lies.
He is my Nicolai, and he’s come to save me.
He’s cloaked me in lies to protect me.
I’m so overcome with emotion, I can’t speak or think. I can only cry and now that I do, I know that the weird mix of emotions I felt were the prelude to just this. Tears I haven’t shed that I needed to.
“Yes, master,” I whisper, giving him what he needs. But he flinches.
“I’ll have to accept that,” he says. His voice hardens. “I’ll have to demand that.”
I keep my voice so low, no one could possibly hear us.
“Are you…” my voice trails off.
“Yes.”
“You don’t…” I falter. “I hate that I didn’t know you.” My voice cracks as fresh tears fall, fresh from an unfathomable depth.
He brings his mouth so close to my ear, his heated breath vibrates over the shell of my ear. “It isn’t your fault,” he says. “You’ve been traumatized. It impacts memory, recall…” his voice trails off.
I cry harder against his chest.
You’ve been traumatized.
I’ve been brought to the very cusp of what human beings can endure. Broken and beaten, conditioned and debased. The weight of it all is so heavy, I fear I’ll shatter beneath it.
“I don’t like that I forgot. That I didn’t know,” I whisper brokenly, so low I wonder at first if he hears me, but his next words reassure me.
“I’ll help you remember.”
And then his fingers are tangled in my hair, my hand is on his face, and his mouth is on mine. I sigh into the salty, messy kiss, swallowing a deep moan that resonates low in his chest.
It’s Nicolai.
And I’m his.
Worlds collide in that kiss, separation no longer possible. We fuse together, welded by pain and longing, this moment of blissful union untainted by the horror that brought us to this place. What happened then and what happens next no longer matters. All that does is this very moment where nothing can break us apart.
He kisses me and I kiss him back, losing myself to him and finding myself in the process.
Who was I?
Nicolai’s.
I’m crying and I swear he is nearly breaking down himself, though he doesn’t cry, the groans he releases are fragmented, hoarse. Being apart has nearly killed me, and though I hate that he’s been in pain, the certain knowledge that he’s longed for this like I have assures me that somehow, some way, everything will be okay.
I’ll help you remember.
Slowly, so slowly it’s like the painstaking blossoming of a flower, he unfolds the petals of my heart.
I am not a slave.
I pull away from our kiss too soon, the knowledge of who I was just right there on the cusp of awareness. My lips part, but he presses a finger firmly against them.
“You are my slave,” he whispers.
I nod my head.
“This is the first time we’ve met,” he says, his voice choked with emotion.
Again, I nod.
His voice deepens, hoarse and husky. “You will obey me.” He speaks with conviction.
I nod again. I will obey him.
And even though I know who I am, even though I know there was a time and place when I wasn’t subservient to another, my body responds on instinct.
I long to obey him.
Is it the old me who craves his dominance, or the one broken in training?
And does it matter?
I know that this isn’t the time to reveal truths but to do whatever it takes so we’re free again. Safe. Though we’re alone in this room, we’re in the heart of deception and lies, mired in a place where danger lurks in every corner. The oppressive weight of the lies I’ve swallowed constricts my lungs. Wickedness and death surround us.
Where are we going? How will we survive this?
“Show me,” he whispers. “Show me that you…” he pauses. “Show me that you know who you are.”
Holding his gaze, I slide off his lap and kneel before him. I take one of his hands, marked with ink, words I don’t recognize and symbols that represent his new identity, and bring his fingers to my lips.
“I am your slave,” I whisper, tugging his hand to my heart. My voice trembles. “And my name is Marissa.”
I watch his gaze soften, as he drags one thumb along my cheek until he reaches my chin. Pinching my chin between his thumb and forefinger, he smiles at me, his eyes crinkling around the edges, and the sight makes my heart sing. I made him smile. Nicolai, my master—the two roles are welded together, and my mind can’t separate the two—is pleased with me.
“They call me Aleks,” he says, his voice imbued with meaning. I must never refer to him by his real name. “But you will call me Master. And you shall be called Slave.” Now that my memory is resurfacing, I have so many questions.
Where are we?
Where are we going?
How did he escape?
How did he find me?
And other more pressing questions I fear to know the answers to.
Who did this to me?
How will we ever survive what comes next?
What hope is there for us?
Just hearing him speak in his accent plucks the strings of my heart like a master strumming a long-lost instrument. The strings are taut and frail, but they remember how to sing.
Leaning down, he brings his mouth to my ear once more, a reminder that our secret must remain hidden. “You must not forget that I am your master.”
I have so many questions, I don’t even know where to begin.
For the first time, I become aware of the sounds in the rooms that flank either side. The slap of skin on skin, moans and creaking beds. My eyes go wide as I look to Nicolai.
“We’ve been given… a reward,” he says with chagrin. It isn’t a reward, but a command. He doesn’t need to tell me this.
I nod. I heard the instruction myself.
Take their virginity before you return.
Leaning down, he takes my face in both hands, holding my gaze. “They didn’t take your virginity,” he says. “Tell me they didn’t.”
I can honestly tell him they did not. “No,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s why I’ve been held for so long.” This much I’ve surmised from what the other girls have told me. The others were taken and sold at a lower price, so they moved quickly through the market, but the virgins were trained for longer, preserved as it were.
“What else did they do to you?” he says in a deathly whisper that makes the hairs at the back of my neck prickle in fear.
I swallow hard. My voice trembles when I answer. I have to give him the truth he doesn’t want to hear. “Everything else.”
His hands on my face shake. He’s so overcome with rage, his nostrils flare and his cheeks color, his lips press into a thin line. I shiver with fear.
“I will find them,” he says. “And they will pay the ultimate price for touching you.”
He’s the fierce protector who’s guarded me since I was a child. I close my eyes, my fingers gripping his still holding my face.
“I know you will,” I whisper. I’ve been through hell, and I still haven’t clawed my way out of the fiery depths. But the knowledge that he’s come for me, that he’s found me, speaks more than he will ever say aloud. How much I mean to him. How precious I am to this fierce, possessive man. How much he loves me.
I open my eyes. “When do we return?” I ask. “When will we arrive in t
he new location?”
“Very soon,” he says. “We have one more night.” Leaning down, he kisses my forehead so fiercely I gasp. “I will not take you tonight.” His voice breaks in a vehement whisper. “Not tonight,” he repeats.
He releases me. I drop my head to his knee, my cheek lying on silky fabric. Nicolai found me. And together, we are going to escape the danger we’re both in. Running a hand along my hair, he gently brushes it from my forehead.
A noise sounds on the other side of the door.
“In bed,” he says so loudly, I start. I open my eyes and look up at him. He’s pointing to the bed. When I don’t move to obey right away, he bends down and slaps my ass. “I said, bed, slave.”
Oh, God. I have to pull myself out of the revelation and back into the present. I didn’t realize what he was doing at first, but now I see he speaks loudly so the others hear, so they don’t lose respect for him for not forcing me to obey. I get to my feet. He’s pulled the covers down and pointed to where he wants me to sleep.
I climb into the bed, and I don’t want to take my eyes off of him. I lie on my back and watch as he walks about the room. It’s the first time I’ve really looked in here. It’s a large room for a cruise ship, with a massive bed, a sitting area, and a bathroom to the right, but I don’t really care about the details. It’s luxurious, draped in golds and ivory, but I don’t care. I don’t want to look away from him.
My memory still falters a bit, and it sets my heartbeat to pounding harder, faster. I am trying… I can’t remember… I don’t remember anything about the night we were taken from each other. I remembered him in my captivity, I know I did. The memory of him was the one beacon shining in the darkness of my tortured existence. I held onto that. Whatever else they did to affect my mind did not erase him completely.
He stands before me, as tall as he was before, of course, but thinner. Leaner. Muscled and strong. He has tattoos, but they’re different from what they were before. I want to ask him how he did that, but I have to pretend he is my master. Speaking out loud is dangerous. I know this much.
But I can whisper. So I do.
“I love you,” I say so low, he doesn’t hear me at first.
“What was that?” he asks curtly. “Did you say something?”
I almost don’t want to repeat myself. I know he’s putting on this persona so we don’t arouse suspicion, but it’s hard to reconcile the stern master before me and the man who gave up everything to save me, though even that man was stern and serious.
He raises a brow. “I asked you a question,” he says. “What did you say?”
I freeze. Then something prompts me to point to myself.
I.
Then my heart.
Love.
Then to him.
You.
His gaze softens and his eyes gentle. One corner of his stern mouth quirks at the corner, and he nods. Accepting my silent admonition of love. Then he points to himself. His heart. And back to me.
I love you.
One day we will be able to say it aloud to one another. But for now, this is all I need.
After he’s stripped to just boxers, he joins me in bed and shuts out the light. I close my eyes, overcome with emotion at feeling him behind me. I am on my side and Nicolai is behind me. Holding me. He tucks one strong arm over my belly and holds my hand. I stifle the tears that will fall. I don’t want to be a blubbering mess tonight. I just want to be his.
I fall into the deepest sleep I’ve experienced since my captivity.
I wake with a start. It’s hours later, pitch black outside the little sliver of glass of our window. I blink. Someone was screaming. Why is someone screaming?
Then I realize it’s someone right outside our door. I sit up in bed, startled. But I can’t move. I’m not allowed to help someone who’s screaming, and if they find me—
I blink. Where am I? Why am I not allowed to help them?
“Back to sleep,” Nicolai orders. “You can’t help her. Go back to sleep.”
I close my eyes, but sleep doesn’t come. I toss and turn, unable to drown out the tortured sounds.
“Someone is hurting her,” I whisper to him.
He sighs. “Many people are hurting many people.” But he doesn’t tell me to hush or to go to sleep again. Instead, he rolls over onto his back. “Lie your head on my chest.”
I roll over and do what he tells me, resting my head on his bare chest. His arms encircle me and he holds me like this. I listen to the steady beating of his heart, and try to will myself to get back to sleep.
Nicolai has me, but will we be able to escape from here? Has he just joined me in my prison? Or does freedom await us somehow?
Chapter 14
Nicolai
I wake the next morning with Marissa curled up on my chest, and for a moment I actually feel as if I’m dreaming. I breathe her in, the sweet scent of her hair, and hold my own breath so I don’t wake her. I’ve dreamt of this very thing, having her back and under my protection. Only we’re still ensnared in a web of lies, betrayal, and danger at every corner.
I’ve found her. But we are far from safe.
Tomorrow, we will arrive in Boston and meet the Boston Bratva. I have to keep my anonymity and keep her safe at the same time. I’m supposed to be offering her as tribute, so it’s a fine line I walk. I want to take her and run so badly it’s consuming my every thought, but logically I know this can’t happen. I’m not sure how I’ll keep her safe, but for today, I have to keep my cover.
I’ll enjoy this moment while it lasts. Holding her, nestled up against my chest like this. Safe.
“Good morning,” she whispers. I run my hand down the back of her head, holding her to me. I didn’t know she was awake. Her fingers trail along my chest, the very tip a pale, oval-shaped pink. Innocent. So fucking innocent.
“Good morning,” I whisper back. The ship is quiet for now, many likely still sleeping. But soon, it will be time to go to the main decks, and we’ll have to keep our covers. My biggest obstacle will be keeping my temper in check, knowing that some of the men aboard this ship were the ones who touched her, the ones who will pay for what they’ve done.
She lifts her head, and her eyes meet mine. “Is this real?” she asks, so low I almost don’t hear her. She looks at me with such hope, such trust, I grip her tightly to me.
“It’s fucking real,” I whisper. “But we walk a razor’s edge. Do you understand that?”
Her eyes still on me, she nods. “I think so,” she whispers.
“I will do anything to protect you,” I tell her. “No one will harm you. Ever. Again. But we have to do this.”
She closes her eyes and her arms around me tighten. “I know.”
I give myself one more brief moment of this, of holding my Marissa to me and being her lover, and not her master. “Zvezda moya,” I murmur. “My star. You are my light in a world of darkness.”
I trace one finger down the side of her face. Assuming the mask once again. “You are my slave,” I remind her. To anyone who looks at us, the cover needs to be believable.
She nods again. “Yes, master.”
It shouldn’t make me hard to hear her say that, but it does. It fucking does. I’m holding her nearly naked to my chest, the girl I’ve watched over all these years. But she isn’t a girl anymore, and though she’s under my protection, she’s not my charge. She is no longer innocent and naïve.
We’ve left our worlds behind, and if I have anything to do about it, we’ll fucking do it again.
My cock is hard against her belly, reminding me what I need to do tonight. Someone stirs in the room beside me. Will she be able to obey me on command, without faltering?
“Out of bed,” I tell her, the tone of my voice so harsh she flinches, and it fucking kills me. But I don’t back down. When she looks up at me in surprise but doesn’t move, I grip her chin in my hand.
“Do I need to punish you before we eat breakfast?”
She shakes her
head and scrambles out of the bed. When she rights herself, she tucks her arms behind her back and brings her shoulders back but keeps her head bowed.
“Good girl,” I tell her. “It’s time for us to go over my expectations for you.” I have to play this right. I have to keep our cover, and no one must ever know the truth. “Kneel.”
She drops to her knees, her hands still behind her back and head bowed. It’s fucking beautiful, but I can’t let myself be distracted.
I sit up in bed and cross my arms on my chest. I’m not playing a game here. Her safety is on the line, and if she doesn’t follow her role perfectly, she’s at risk. I don’t bother keeping my voice quiet, but speak loud enough for anyone outside these doors to hear.
“As my slave, nothing is up for negotiation,” I tell her. “You do what I say and when I say it, or suffer the consequences.”
“Yes, master.”
“That is the correct response, but for the remainder of your instruction I want you to nod.”
She nods obediently.
“Your job is to obey and serve me.”
A nod.
“You will eat when I tell you, kneel when commanded, and only wear clothing when in the presence of other men.”
Another nod.
“I will reward you when I see fit, when you’ve pleased me. And if you displease me, I will punish you.”
She nods again.
“Stand.”
She gets to her feet but keeps her eyes on the floor. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit up.
“Come here.”
Obediently, she walks over to me. I point wordlessly to the floor, and she drops back to her knees. I stifle a groan, my cock aching.
“Who do you serve?” I ask clearly.
“You, sir.”
“To whom do you answer?”
“You, sir.”
“Who has the privilege of punishing you if you disobey?”
“You, sir.”
I take her chin in my hand and bring her eyes to mine. “Who owns you?”
She doesn’t falter, holding my gaze as she swallows, then whispers. “You, sir.”
I lean down so my mouth is to her ear. “Are you ever to call me by name?”
A gentle shake of her head. “No, sir. Never, sir.”
“Well done.” I lean down and bring my mouth to her ear. “Until I tell you again, we will not talk of who you are or who I am. You will do exactly what I say, and I will protect you. But from here on out, every instruction I give you comes from Master Aleks. Do you understand?”
