by Kitty Thomas
A moment later, Lindsay was behind her, gripping her arm. “I'm so sorry I have to do this, Shannon.”
She didn't register the prick of the needle at first. When she did, she looked between Damian and Lindsay, shock and betrayal warring inside her, clearly unsure which one of them she should hate more. Then her eyes drifted closed and she collapsed against Lindsay.
“Well, that's one way to handle her, I guess,” Damian said.
“It was an extreme circumstance. Don't you dare drug her,” Lindsay said, tossing the used syringe in the trash can beside his desk. “It'll buy you some time.”
As if Damian would ever drug her. As if he even had access to whatever horse-class sedative the doctor had just pushed into her bloodstream. Damian held out his arms and Lindsay passed Shannon's limp body to him. When he held her, Lindsay unlocked and removed the metal bracelet from her wrist. Then he brushed the hair out of her eyes and placed a kiss on her forehead. “Go, get her out of here.”
Damian carried her out of the office, down the hall, and past the crowd of whispers. The blond man held the front door open for him, then went outside to open the passenger side of the car. When Shannon was safely strapped in, the blond man turned and went back into the house without another word.
Damian opened the glove box and took out a coil of rope. He hadn't believed the doctor when he'd said Damian might have to restrain her to get her home. Now he was glad he'd listened. There was no telling how she'd react when she woke from the drugs.
He quickly tied her hands and moved around to the driver's side to start the car.
He was grateful she was unconscious. It gave him space to think. He hadn't had a moment to think straight since getting Lindsay's call. When the doctor had told him what had happened, all Damian could think about was how fast he could get her out of that fucking house and to some place safe.
He was surprised by just how attached he was to her already, how attached he was to the whole idea of her. And now that he had her, tied up and drugged in his car, the reality of what the fuck he was doing started to hit him.
This was a felony. He was committing a felony. He was now a... kidnapper. He couldn't bring himself to leave her in that house with Brian. And he couldn't call the cops. It would implicate Lindsay. He couldn't let this girl go. She couldn't take care of herself. She had nowhere to go. She couldn't stay at the house with that psychopath. What else was he supposed to do?
When someone you cared about was in trouble, you helped them. The problem was, she wasn't going to interpret this as help, and the law was on her side.
These thoughts kept spinning through his head faster and faster as he drove down the long dark empty road. If someone had told him a few months ago he'd accidentally commit a felony, he wasn't sure he would have believed them. It wasn't as though he'd planned this.
Yes, he'd agreed to all the things Lindsay had laid out. But Shannon had wanted... It wasn't as though she were being kept chained in a basement. But now she wasn't a willing participant. Whatever closeness and pleasure they may have shared less than twenty-four hours before, she was an unwilling captive now.
He couldn't let her go. He couldn't take her to the police. How would he explain the drug she'd been injected with? How would he explain any of it? And even if he could, would she agree to his version of events? Doubtful.
There was that saying, the house always wins. It was about gambling and casinos, but it felt fitting now. Because somehow that large white house out in the middle of nowhere had won. Somehow Damian had allowed himself to get sucked into this mess and now he had an actual fucking hostage. This woman didn't want to be with him now. She wanted Lindsay.
For whatever insane reason, she wanted to live with that criminal doctor, a man engaged in selling women like livestock. Oh sure, the story was that everybody was getting their needs met. Whatever the fuck that meant. But were they really? Where was the exit clause for these women? Fucking nowhere. There was no way out of their very illegal contracts, and Lindsay and every other whackjob running that house acted like somehow this was all okay.
“Fuck!” he shouted, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. “Motherfucking FUCK! Lindsay you asshole!”
As if Lindsay could hear him having a mental breakdown on the highway. Now Damian was just as much a criminal as they were because there was no way in hell he was letting this girl go. He couldn't risk the house or that Brian would see her as a loose end. He turned to glance at Shannon, but his yelling hadn't woken her. She was well under the power of those drugs now.
And well under my power, a dark thing inside him whispered.
***
Shannon shifted uncomfortably. Her eyes shot open when she felt the ropes tied around her wrists, terrified that Brian had her again. But then she began to remember what had happened, and she started to cry again.
“We're almost home,” Damian said. He pulled to the side of the road and put the car in park. He opened a bottle of water and held it up for her to drink. She was so thirsty. It was lukewarm but still wonderful. He put the lid back on the water and placed the bottle in the cup holder and pulled back out on the road.
Her current situation made it clear to her that she did not know Damian Brand. At all. It didn't matter that they'd had a weekend of incredible kinky sex. It didn't matter that she found him attractive or that she'd wanted him. He'd kidnapped her. And tied her up. And he didn't seem too upset about the fact that Lindsay had drugged her.
Her voice was small when she said, “Why am I tied up?”
“For my personal safety,” Damian said. “You didn't seem too keen on leaving the house.”
He kept his eyes on the road. He seemed eerily calm.
She remembered when Mina had come to the house and the arguments that had happened often in full view of others. Brian had said that there was something dark and dangerous about Lindsay. She couldn't deny that in the face of the night's events. Both men had drugged her in the space of a few hours. Lindsay could have killed her. He didn't know about the drugs Brian had put in her food. It hadn't exactly come up in conversation while she was begging him not to give her to Damian.
What if those drugs interacted? But she felt okay. Groggy as hell, but otherwise pretty normal. If they'd interacted surely she wouldn't have woken up. That would have been some irony... for sedatives to be the thing that killed her... accidentally. How fucked up was that?
“I-I can't believe he drugged me. I can't believe he just threw me away. I-I thought he loved me.”
“He does love you. He did it to keep you safe. You aren't safe at that house.”
Shannon's fingers drifted up to her bare throat and she let out a choked sob at the absence of her collar. It had felt so strong and solid against her skin. It had felt like his hand on her all the time, even when he wasn't with her. And now, there was an empty void where the metal should be.
Damian noticed the gesture. “We'll get you a new collar,” he said. As if this were about accessorizing.
When Damian got her a collar would he just as easily take it away? Like it was nothing? Like she was nothing? She'd just started to really trust Lindsay... to really love Lindsay. And now he was injecting her with drugs and throwing her away.
“You're not the hero,” she said. “You're keeping me against my will.”
Damian said nothing to that.
She stared out the window at the passing trees. She felt shell-shocked. Why did this always happen? Why did they always throw her away? Was she not good enough? Even before the scars, this was what happened. What was wrong with her that these men got rid of her at the first available opportunity?
She jumped when Damian's hand rested on her knee.
“I know this is hard for you. But in time you will see it's for the best.”
Being separated from Lindsay wasn't what was best for her. She should have been consulted. He should have asked what she wanted. But then, that wasn't their relationship. His ownership of her had never felt
more absolute than in this moment when she belonged to somebody else.
In the very beginning when she was still free, meeting Lindsay at his office in the city for therapy... he'd told her he could find her a good master. Someone who had money, who could take care of her, who could give her all the things she needed. In a roundabout way hadn't he fulfilled his promise? It had taken eight years and a twisted route to get there, but wasn't this what she'd wanted?
It wasn't as though Damian Brand was the kind of man she'd kick out of bed. He ticked all the boxes. Money. Charm. Intelligence. Strong. Beautiful. Masculine. Dominant in all the right ways. If she could have picked a master out of a catalog she couldn't imagine a reality in which she wouldn't have chosen Damian and hoped like hell some other woman hadn't already snapped him up first.
But that was before Lindsay. Didn't what they shared mean anything to him? If he really wanted her, wouldn't he have found a way that they could still be together? If he didn't, what were the odds she'd fare any better with Damian? Damian could have any woman he wanted. He could have one of those young twenty-two-year-olds from the house if he wanted.
He could have a woman without the ugly scars that marred her. It didn't matter what he said about them... nobody could look at her back and not wish those marks weren't there.
Now she wasn't a pity fuck, she was a do-a-friend-a-favor fuck. And somehow that was worse.
Damian remained silent the rest of the way to his house. His modern glass mansion appeared on the horizon. A prison with a panoramic view. It wasn't as big as the house, but it was massive for a place that would hold only the two of them.
“Will I ever see him again?” Surely she would. If he and Damian were such good friends. It would be nothing to just let her see him. Please, just let me see him.
She hadn't even gotten a proper goodbye.
Damian shook his head. “We both thought it would be better if you had a clean break.”
“Well, thanks for consulting me.” She didn't care about respect and titles and rules. She'd yet to call him master, something she was sure he'd noticed and equally sure he'd punish her for later.
He'd probably imagined this going down much differently. He would comfort her. She would fall into his arms. It would be some kinky fairy tale. But all she wanted was to be back in Lindsay's bed, in his plant room with that stupid dirty-talking parrot.
Damian came around to her side, opened the door, and helped her out, then walked her like a prisoner up to his front door.
“Are you going to untie me? Or are you going to treat me like a hostage now that you have me and can do whatever you want? Lindsay made it pretty clear he's not going to be checking on me.”
Damian didn't respond, he just input the security code. She immediately recognized the subtly distinct sounds each button made. It was the same security system the house had. 94353. 94353. 94353. 94353. She thought the number over and over again until it was imprinted on her brain. 94353. She wondered idly if it held some special meaning for him.
“Are you hungry?” he asked as soon as he'd locked them in for the night.
“Yes.”
Damian's eyes narrowed. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, Sir.” She knew she was just digging the hole deeper, but she couldn't help it. That title was reserved for Lindsay. She wasn't ready to use it with anyone else. It felt like betraying him somehow. She was angry at herself for caring about that. Why should she care? He'd betrayed her. He'd thrown her away. Just like the last one.
Damian sighed. “I know you're hurting, but this disrespect won't be tolerated for long. I'm not willing to be a monster with you. Lindsay entrusted me with your safety and happiness. I'll give you time to adjust. You can continue to call me Sir for now. But understand it's only temporary.”
Once they were locked in and the security system was engaged, he untied her wrists. “Don't hit me, and don't try to run. I don't want to keep you tied up like an animal, but I'll do whatever I have to. I am fully aware that I'm breaking the law right now. I couldn't leave you in that house with that monster, but I'm not willing to go to prison for you. Don't push me into a corner where this has to go to an ugly place.”
She wondered if he'd been thinking that speech up during the long car ride while she'd been unconscious.
“Come into the kitchen. I made some beef stew before Lindsay called.”
She followed him to the kitchen. She needed him to believe she would comply with all this so he'd let his guard down. It wasn't as though he were a seasoned criminal. It was doubtful he'd ever kept anyone imprisoned in his home, despite all the bondage equipment in his basement.
She watched as Damian began to reheat the large pot of stew, then he came to stand behind her. He swept her hair out of his way and kissed the side of her neck. He ran his fingertips gently over her back.
She winced. “Please...”
He raised her shirt to look at the bandages. “How bad did he hurt you?”
“Not bad. It's just tender.”
“When you heal we could try to get the scars removed,” he said.
Shannon jerked away from his touch. “No! If you take them from me I'll never forgive you.”
Where had that come from? She'd wanted the scars gone ever since the moment they'd been created. But somehow between the time she'd become Lindsay's and now, something had shifted. Those marks had stopped being about Brian a long time ago.
Hadn't she realized as much in the dungeon when she thought Brian might kill her tonight? Somehow the scars had gone from being Brian's mark of pain and destruction to Lindsay's mark of protection and safety. They were the only thing she had left from him, and she wasn't willing to give them up.
Damian moved around to the other side of the counter, carefully watching her. “I thought you wanted them gone.”
“I don't.”
He held up his hands as if in surrender, even though they both knew he held all the power. “Okay.”
“Okay I can keep them?”
Damian nodded. He was still figuring her out. She wondered if he'd put it together yet. When he did, would he try to have the scars removed to erase Lindsay from her forever?
When the stew started to bubble on the stove, Damian reduced the heat, and ladled some into bowls.
She spotted his keys sitting on the counter. She was so tempted to try to take them, but there wasn't enough time.
“Do you want crackers?” he asked turning back to her.
“Yes, Sir,” she said, trying not to look at his car keys.
He let the lesser title go and put a box of round crackers on the counter.
They ate in uncomfortable silence, the only sound the ticking of a modern-style grandfather clock over the fireplace mantle.
When they finished, Damian took their bowls and put them in the sink. “Let's go to bed. It's been a long day.”
How was it possible that only that morning they'd been laughing together? She'd liked him, been excited about seeing him again. And now all she could think about was getting away from him and getting back to Lindsay. She wasn't some stray dog who could just shift her allegiance with a little petting and a warm meal.
Shannon followed him up the clear see-through stairs, clinging to the railing, still unnerved by them.
Damian had a king-sized bed. The bedding was thick and black with a seemingly endless supply of pillows. The one spectacular thing about this house was the view. She stood absolutely still when he started undressing her. She wondered if he'd try to fuck her tonight.
“Get in the bed,” he said when the only thing she wore was the bandages on her back.
Shannon crawled into bed and laid down, tense, waiting as Damian undressed and got in behind her. But he didn't try to fuck her, he just put his arm around her and held her.
Chapter Seventeen
Lindsay sat in his office at the house. He'd been sitting there for hours, staring at papers, pretending to work. He'd brought back a stack of client files from the city.
He needed to go through them to find new candidates for the house. He'd won one of the girls from the art show, but they still had a few more openings. Yet all he'd done since Shannon left with Damian had been to sit and stare.
“You okay in here?”
He looked up to find Gabe standing in the doorway, a concerned look on his face.
“I'll be fine. It was what's best for her. It's safest.”
He couldn't shake off the image of Shannon looking at him, so betrayed after he'd sedated her. Would that really be frozen in time as the last moment they shared together? Him sticking a needle in her arm?
“Have you eaten anything?” Gabe asked.
He shook his head.
“You should eat something.”
“What would you have done?” Lindsay asked.
“I would have killed Brian.”
That would have been the easy solution. Except that it wasn't. No matter how simple he wanted it to be, Mina would be destroyed.
He often wished he were more like Brian, that he could just take what he wanted, however he wanted it, without any guilt or second guessing troubling his mental waters. But he over thought everything. It was a benefit with his work, but a liability everywhere else.
“I'm going to bring you some food,” Gabe said.
Lindsay shrugged at that. When Gabe had gone, he took the case with Shannon's collar out of the top drawer. He opened it and stared. The collar glittered and gleamed, reflecting all the hope and promise he'd had for them. Had he really believed he deserved a happy ending? After all the lines he'd crossed? The lives he'd ruined? However unintentionally.
He snapped the case shut and put it back in the drawer, this time locking it. He knew he should get rid of it. Give it to someone. Sell it. Throw it out. He couldn't just keep it like some strange shrine to her. He'd hold onto it a few weeks, he decided. Then he'd let it go. He almost believed this lie.
Gabe reappeared in the doorway a few minutes later with a plate of Chicken Parmesan, garlic bread, and a glass of iced tea, then left him alone with dinner.
