by Nina Lane
“Why?” she whispered, though she already knew the answer.
Survival. Kruin could only survive by being loyal to Preston. And Lydia could only survive by escaping him.
Kruin didn’t respond, his expression implacable.
Lydia lowered her head, pressing it against Gabriel’s, feeling him start to regain his composure. She no longer felt the pain Preston had inflicted upon her, all of her senses honed in on the singular thought of escape.
Pacing again, Preston was as angry as a child having a temper tantrum, though far more dangerous. Kruin’s body blocked the route to the front door. The living room window was cracked but not shattered, providing no useful exit. There was a window in the bedroom, but they’d have to get there first. Maybe if she could reach the phone… . except involving the police would end with both her and Gabriel forced to face the authorities. Not to mention Lydia’s father.
She curled her hand against Gabriel’s broad back, hearing his breathing begin to even out again. Preston snapped his fingers.
“Lydia. Come here.”
Gabriel tensed. Lydia pushed to her feet and approached Preston, trying not to shake. He clamped his hand around her wrist and pulled her against him, smashing his mouth to hers in a wet, voluptuous kiss of undiluted possession.
Nausea surged in Lydia’s chest, but she parted her lips and accepted the hot sweep of his tongue, for no other reason than to avoid inciting his anger further. When he released her, a feral light glowed in his blue eyes, making him look more animal than human.
“Kruin,” he said, not taking his gaze from Lydia, his mouth curving into a smile sharp as a knife. “Beat him.”
A cry of protest escaped before Lydia could stop it. She clamped a hand to her mouth, watching in horror when Kruin approached Gabriel with single-minded intent. Not a shred of emotion radiated from the big man as he bent to haul Gabriel to his feet. Gabriel had recovered enough that he lifted his head to look Kruin in the eye, his hands clenching into fists.
The battle was lost before it began. Kruin was so much bigger, so much more powerful, that it was like watching a bear trapping a rat. The instant his fist hit Gabriel in the face, Gabriel grunted and stumbled backward. Kruin advanced. Another blow. Gabriel’s nose began to bleed. He landed one strike on the side of Kruin’s head before Kruin hit him again, sending him to the floor.
“Kruin, stop! Please.” Lydia swiped at the tears streaming down her face.
“Hit him again,” Preston ordered, his hand tight around Lydia’s arm. “Make it hurt.”
Kruin shot Preston a narrow look, but moved toward Gabriel again. Gabriel pushed to his feet, sweaty and bruised. Again Kruin knocked him down, busting open his lip. Gabriel sucked in a few breaths, wiped the blood from his chin, and struggled to stand again. Kruin landed a blow in the solar plexus that had Gabriel doubling over, gasping for air.
“Kick him in the balls,” Preston snapped.
“Don’t,” Lydia shouted, her horror eclipsed now by undiluted anger. “Kruin, please! You don’t have to do what Preston tells you to!”
“Shut up, you stupid girl,” Preston snarled.
A red mist coated Lydia’s eyes. She yanked herself away from Preston, agony and rage flooding her. She turned and flew at him, her fists connecting with his face, her nails scratching his neck. All the pain of the past months spilled out in a wave. She attacked him with everything she had, biting, slapping, hitting, kicking. His grunts of pain rang in her ears. And oh God, did it feel good to unleash the anger she’d kept restrained for so long, to beat and hurt him.
Her attack was so swift and forceful that Preston went on the immediate defense, throwing his arms over his face. Lydia kneed him in the groin, drove her fist into his nose, scratched his cheek. Preston cursed, fury firing his eyes. He tackled her, both of them hitting the floor hard. Lydia gasped. His full weight landed on top of her, his hands pinning her down.
Panting, Lydia glared up at him, grimly satisfied to see the damage she’d wrought. His nose was bloody, red marks lined his face, and his eye was beginning to swell.
“Bitch,” he growled. “You’ll pay dearly for that.”
She spat in his face, half expecting him to back-hand her in return. Instead he wiped the spittle away with his sleeve and lowered his head, crushing his mouth to hers again in a wet, punishing kiss. Nausea choked Lydia’s throat. Preston trailed his lips to her ear.
“I rather like this,” he hissed. “This fire in you. We’ll have to fight more often. It will make it ever so much more satisfying when I discipline you.”
He smirked at her, then got to his feet and yanked her upright. All the blood rushed from her head. Lydia sucked in a breath, the world tilting crazily off-balance.
She sought Kruin again. He was watching Gabriel still writhing on the floor, his breathing raspy. Lydia thought for sure Gabriel couldn’t get up again, that this was it… Then Gabriel rolled to his side and got to his knees. A wave of strength infused Lydia as he grabbed the back of a chair and struggled to his feet yet again.
Kruin’s fists bunched. Lydia darted forward, wanting to put herself between the two men. Preston grabbed her hair and yanked her to a halt. Pain spread across her skull.
“Kruin, no!”
Kruin stepped toward Gabriel. The two men locked eyes. Gabriel’s face was bloody and bruised, his chest heaving. He managed one ineffectual swing at Kruin before the other man knocked him down with a right hook to the jaw. With a groan, Gabriel hit the floor and lay still.
“No!” Lydia screamed, trying to yank herself away from Preston’s grip, her eyes streaming with tears. “Kruin, help him!”
“He won’t help him,” Preston snarled, giving her hair another hard tug. “Kruin knows where his loyalties lie, isn’t that right, Kruin? You’re my big, obedient dog on a leash, just like Lydia will always be my hot little pet. Once we’re rid of Gabriel for good, the three of us will live happily ever after.”
Blackness encroached on the edges of Lydia’s vision. She stared at Gabriel lying motionless on the floor, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his labored breathing.
“Get rid of him,” Preston ordered.
An odd stillness infused the room. Kruin looked down at Gabriel, his fists still bunched but otherwise lacking any sign that he’d just beat another man senseless. Then he bent to haul Gabriel over his shoulder.
“Oh, Kruin, no,” Lydia whispered in dismay, her voice barely audible in the silence.
He didn’t look at her. He strode toward the door, Gabriel’s battered body limp over his shoulder, and then they were gone.
With a choked cry, Lydia pulled herself away from Preston. This time, he let her go. She ran to the window just in time to see Kruin dump Gabriel into the trunk of the car and slam it shut. A second later, he got behind the wheel and drove away, the red taillights blinking like demon’s eyes in the night.
Lydia couldn’t move. And then she felt Preston approaching her from behind.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I’M CERTAIN IT was merely another error in judgment.” Preston smiled at Carol Worthington, seeing the response in her eyes as she met his gaze. He injected a warmer note in his voice and continued addressing her rather than her fuck of a husband who sat in the chair opposite him. “Surely you understand, Mrs. Worthington, that sometimes one makes mistakes that one later deeply regrets.”
“But of course, Preston,” she murmured, reaching out to refill his teacup. She glanced at Lydia, who sat stiffly beside Preston on the sofa. “However, Jane has perhaps made one mistake too many, don’t you agree?”
“Undoubtedly,” Preston said. “My poor battered face can attest to that.”
He gestured to his bruised face with a wry laugh. Carol gave Lydia a look of disapproval.
“Jane does have a temper that she must learn to control,” Preston continued smoothly. “Which is why I hope that you and Mr. Worthington will find my proposal both highly attractive and necessary.”
Preston covered Lydia’s hand with his. She hadn’t spoken a word since their altercation with Gabriel the previous night. Indeed, she seemed to be in shock—pale and brittle—for which Preston couldn’t blame her. He’d even left her alone last night, much as he’d wanted to prove his ownership of her, for he certainly didn’t want her to think he was cruel. He would allow her to mourn Gabriel for a short time. After all, she would belong to him forever now.
As long as fucking Edward Worthington didn’t stand in his way.
Preston schooled his expression into one of mild respect. “Sir, I do hope that Jane’s antics haven’t caused too much trouble for your campaign.”
Worthington grunted. “They certainly haven’t helped.”
“I guarantee that if you allow me to take care of Jane from this moment on, you will no longer have to worry about what she might do next,” Preston assured the other man. “You’ll be able to concentrate fully on your work without fear that your impetuous daughter will cause a huge scandal.”
Preston gave Lydia a look of fond indulgence while he continued to address her father. She stared straight ahead, her profile rigid.
“Jane has… impulses that require curbing,” Preston said. “And Mr. Worthington, I would be honored if you allowed me to be the one to take care of her in the manner she both needs and deserves.”
Carol and Edward Worthington exchanged glances. Preston squeezed Lydia’s hand gently.
“After all, I did bring her back safe and sound, did I not?” Preston asked, casting his gaze on Carol again. He smiled at her and was gratified when a faint flush colored her cheeks. “Surely you can see how much I care about her. I would never want to see Lydia harmed. Indeed, I shall do everything within my power to ensure that no harm comes to her again. My goal in life is to keep her safe, if you would allow me to do so.”
Worthington cleared his throat. “Where would you live?”
“I’ve a small place outside of Baton Rouge.” Preston shrugged, as if the location hardly mattered. “Close enough that she could visit, if needed, but far enough away that she would no longer be a threat to your public image.”
“Preston.” Though Carol’s voice was gentle, a note of wariness underscored her words. “Forgive me, but a man of your… er, reputation is not very well suited to join the ranks of our family.”
Anger boiled in Preston’s chest, but he managed to maintain his calm expression. He even smiled again. “I understand, Carol. But please, I would never consider myself anywhere near your status. And I’ve no intention of joining your family, as it were.”
On the contrary, he thought darkly. He intended to get Lydia as far away from these goddamned bluebloods as possible.
“My intentions are only to help your family by promising that I can take care of Jane so that you no longer have to worry about her.” He gave Lydia another fond look. Her jaw was tightly clenched.
“Jane?” Worthington addressed his daughter. “What have you to say about all this?”
“Nothing.” Her voice was icy, brittle to the point of breaking. “I have nothing to say.”
“Do you want to marry Preston?” Carol asked.
At the word marry, a visible shudder went through Lydia. She shook her head and sighed.
“It doesn’t matter, Mother,” she said dully. “Nothing matters anymore.”
“Hardly a resounding endorsement,” Carol remarked, flicking her gaze to Preston again.
His mouth hurt from maintaining his charming smile. He dug his fingers into Lydia’s hand in warning.
“There’s no need to be hasty,” he assured Carol. “Marriage could well be in the future for Jane and myself, but in the meantime, I’m offering to keep her safe and… .in check so you and your husband can focus on the campaign and your very worthy charitable endeavors.”
“There’s no doubt she has caused a great deal of trouble,” Worthington muttered, shooting his daughter a mild glare. “Jane, you’re fortunate Mr. Severine brought you home before the press got word of your disappearance again.”
“And after all your father did for you,” Carol added, her blue eyes turning chilly as she studied Lydia. “Honestly, Jane, what were you thinking?”
“She wasn’t thinking,” Preston said gently. “But you needn’t worry any longer, Carol. Jane will act accordingly with me. Won’t you, my dear?”
He gave Lydia a smile. She didn’t return it. She tossed her hair back and looked at her father.
“It’s fine, Father,” she said with sudden intensity. “I’d be ever so much happier with Preston. I want to go with him. It’s true—he’s very kind and treats me well. You need not worry about me when I’m with him. I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused, but I want to be with Preston now.”
Well! Preston couldn’t contain his grin of pure happiness. He leaned in to press his lips to Lydia’s pale cheek. Pleasure and satisfaction swept through him. She was such a good student. He could hardly wait for the unlimited amount of time in which he’d be able to dispense more lessons.
“I think it’s best if we leave tonight,” he remarked, as if the decision were a foregone conclusion. He rose to his feet and approached Carol, taking her hand in both of his and looking into her eyes. “Carol, I promise you I will take the utmost care of your daughter. I know you have concerns about my reputation, but I’ve done well for myself and would never dream of either hurting Jane or causing your family a hint of disgrace. Indeed, I wish only to ensure your husband’s success and your own peace of mind. Jane is impetuous and headstrong, yes, but with me she will have a life of both security and comfort. She will lack for nothing. I beg you to allow me to care for your daughter in the manner she so richly deserves.”
Carol’s lips parted in surprise at the expansiveness of that little speech. She glanced at her husband again before returning her gaze to Preston. Her expression suddenly softened.
“Why, Preston,” she murmured. “I can imagine no other man more well-suited for our Jane than you.”
And so it was.
Lydia sat in the passenger seat of the richly appointed Lexus, watching the New Orleans streets sweeping past as they drove through the city. This was exactly what she deserved—to be beholden to Preston Severine for the rest of her godforsaken life. This was her final, cruel punishment for having relied on Gabriel and setting into motion the chain of events that led to his death. This was the price she would pay for loving him.
A shudder racked her body. She folded her arms and stared out the window. Though tears filled her chest and choked her throat, her eyes remained dry. She didn’t deserve the sweet, aching relief of tears. She deserved to be lashed a thousand times with whatever instrument of pain her captor would deem suitable.
“Kruin is waiting at my apartment,” Preston told her, glancing at her from the driver’s seat. “We’ll pick him up and a few belongings I’ve left, then get on the road right away. You’ll be quite happy at our new location, Lydia. It’s smaller than La Nouvelle Vie, but equally remote. I believe it even still even has the original slave quarters.”
Lydia had little doubt that she would be spending time there. Not that she cared any longer. Preston muttered a curse as the road detoured, a crowd of Carnival revelers appearing in the distance. As the number of pedestrians thickened, Preston jerked the car over to the side of the road and pulled up the parking brake.
“We’ll have to walk,” he said with irritation. “It’s not far.”
They got out of the car, Preston taking her arm when they began navigating the narrow streets. Jazz music floated through the air, the noise of the crowd filtering above it. As they turned a corner, a huge float appeared crowned with a fire-breathing dragon and draped in purple, gold, and green canopies and streamers.
People massed around the street, c
reating a thick wall that seemed impossible to navigate. But Preston merely tightened his hand on Lydia’s wrist and plowed through, forcing people aside. Lydia stumbled after him, a faint sense of panic mushrooming inside her over the sheer number of people. Laughter and music crashed against her ears. Men and women clad in elaborate costumes and hats gyrated to the music.
Two nights ago with Gabriel, she had thoroughly enjoyed the festivities from the balcony, felt the pulsing music flowing through her blood. Now she felt trapped, feverish, unable to draw air into her tight lungs. Preston’s hand was like a manacle around her wrist. Two men bumped into her, pushing her to the side.
By the time they reached the green-shuttered building, Lydia’s dress was sticking to her back, and sweat trickled over her neck. Relieved to escape the crush, she followed Preston up the stairs to his decrepit little hovel of a room. The windows were open, letting in air and noise. Preston released her, and Lydia sank into one of the chairs at the table to try and catch her breath.
As Preston opened the wardrobe and began removing clothes and the horrible black bag containing his implements of punishment, a sudden shadow filled the doorway. Lydia’s chest constricted. She turned her head to meet Kruin’s dark eyes. Pain filled her with the force of a tidal wave.
Though Kruin had always inspired apprehension, in the very core of her being Lydia had trusted him. She had once longed for his approval, his praise. She had craved the sting of his hand on her tender flesh. She had believed that behind his enigmatic and stoic exterior he was a good man at heart.
How wrong she had been. And what did that say about her own instincts? Perhaps she needed to live with Preston for more than just punishment and penance. Perhaps she couldn’t even trust herself and therefore truly did need him to tell her exactly what to do.
Breaking her gaze from Kruin, she stared out the window. Behind her, the voices of the two men rose in conversation. She caught the phrases: not at the plantation, taken care of, and go underground.
