Affliction

by Jenika Snow

  When I sat on the curb, the smell of piss, vomit, and stale beer filled my head, making me want to gag. But I didn’t move. I felt this tingle of reality deep inside me, this problem that I’d never solve making me its prisoner. I could hear the clubbers laughter, their drunkenness letting me know how carefree they were.

  I stared at the alleyway before me, the darkness creeping around, promising absolution, nothingness. That’s what I wanted, to just be swallowed whole.

  This alley wasn’t where my problems stemmed from, just the one where the mystery man had taken control and “saved” me with a gun and unconcern. No, my problems had started when I was born into a world that didn’t want me, when I was introduced into a life that already hated me.

  I looked up and into the “eye” of the security camera pointed at me.

  I pushed the tears away with angry swipes to my cheeks. I wouldn’t cry for anything, for anyone, least of all myself. I’d gotten into this mess, and I’d figure out a way to get out of it.

  Leaving. Running. That was my only option. They might find me, probably would if I was being honest, but they’d just take me here, now, anyway. Running would at least not make me a victim. It would make me a fighter, and that’s how I’d survive.

  Until they catch up with me, which they will eventually.

  I scrubbed a hand over my face, so tired. I hung my head, closed my eyes, and just let the deep bass of the music come through whenever the front door was opened. The hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stood on end. I lifted my head and saw large black boots in my vision. I couldn’t see the man who stood in front of me clearly, the shadows were too thick, but for some inexplicable reason I knew I’d seen him before.

  That night in the alley. He was with the man in the suit.

  They’d been dangerous, the violence swirling around them like an imprint, a promise. They hadn’t said one word, yet their message had come through loud and clear.

  And then he held his hand out to me. I should have gotten up and left. I didn’t need any more trouble, but I found myself just sitting there, looking at it, wondering if it was a lifeline or an offer to drag me further into hell.

  “He wants to see you,” the man said, his voice deep, serrated. I felt his words slice into me like a rusty knife, opening me up, draining me dry.

  But instead of going, leaving the clear threat I knew awaited me, I found myself placing my hand in his, letting him lift me off the ground, and following him as he led me farther into the darkness.

  Chapter 8

  As soon as I stepped through the door I knew exactly where I was, who sat in front of me. I didn’t know his name, but I knew he was the man who’d been in the alley, the one who’d pistol-whipped that asshole who’d assaulted me.

  His office was hot, or maybe it was the way he stared at me. It was like he could see right into my very soul, and threatened to snatch it up and devour it if things didn’t go his way.

  He didn’t say anything for long seconds, but his silence spoke volumes. “Come closer,” he said—ordered—calmly.

  I took a step forward.

  “You know who I am?”

  I shook my head. “I mean—” I swallowed after I said those two words. “You’re the man from the alley, the one who saved me.”

  “Saved you?” He leaned back in his chair, his focus on me.

  I nodded. “From that asshole.” I stared at the TV monitors behind him, an array of shots of the interior and exterior of the club. He was the one behind the “eye” then, watching, calculating.

  I heard the door behind me shut with a deafening, final click. I was now left alone with this man.

  I’d been a crying mess, broken and so damn scared of where my life was going, when that other shoe would drop, I hadn’t even been able to stand. But here I was, for some unknown reason, and I didn’t know whether to beg for help or run in the other direction.

  I felt like I was this little rabbit facing a feral, starved lion.

  My heart raced, my head swam with the realization that this was bad, and that I’d put myself in a dangerous situation. Coming here hadn’t been smart; I felt that as strongly as I felt my heart pounding in my chest.

  I’m already in a dangerous situation, one that will get me killed…or worse.

  It was that “or worse” that scared the shit out of me. It was the image of being tied up, beaten, bloody, naked, my body a vessel for men who wanted nothing more than to empty themselves in me.

  But this man in front of me seemed different, more calculating, and more dangerous.

  “I’m Cameron Ashton,” he said, his head now cocked to the side, his gaze taking me in as if he could see into the very depths of my soul. “You really have no idea who I am, despite coming to my club all this time.” He didn’t phrase it like a question.

  I just shook my head.

  I stared at the monitors again, reality and relaxation settling in. “You’ve been watching me?” I whispered those words, knowing my voice sounded accusing.

  “I have,” he said with no remorse, no shame.

  No, I could see he was different than Ricky, more organized, more controlled. He probably did things that would make me cringe, but was also powerful in every sense of the word.

  He’s the only one that can help … even if his intentions are probably going to drag me further into hell.

  “Why?” I didn’t know why I asked or why I even cared. But the word came out on its own, refusing to be silenced.

  He didn’t answer me, just watched me like a hawk about to strike.

  He was powerful. I felt it, sensed it in the air around him. I didn’t know why I wanted to go down this road again, but I had no other options. The words played in my head, over and over again. A cry for help was poised at the tip of my tongue. Surely a man like him, a man who could hold a gun to a stranger’s head, could help me.

  And you’re foolish enough to ask? Isn’t this how you got into your current situation?

  I could see by looking into Cameron’s dark, bottomless eyes that he was a man used to owning the world. And it was an ugly world. Ricky would use me up until there was nothing left.

  Fucking Ricky. I should never have gone to him for help. God, poor Marshall.

  Is this how David felt when he went up against Goliath, knowing he had no choice, but wondering if he’s make it out alive?

  The one thing I knew for sure was that I wouldn’t be getting out of this alive. Asking Cameron Ashton for help was the equivalent of asking the devil to promise not to drag me deeper into hell.

  I’m already in hell. How much deeper can I get?

  Neither of us said anything, and I had a feeling I could stand here all day and he’d just watch me, being the calculating bastard that I felt he was. I didn’t know why he’d brought me to his office. But I assumed he’d known, or at least sensed, that I was in trouble. Or maybe he just wanted to fuck with me.

  He’d been watching me this whole time, that feeling of being watched more literal than I’d ever imagined.

  “Why did you bring me in here?” Saying the words, questioning a man like this seemed almost abhorrent, like I was basically asking him to snuff me out.

  “Why did you agree to come here?” he threw back, his voice still calm, still so damn collected.

  “I need help.” And the words just came out, like spilled water refusing to stay in the glass. It was a thick string of letters mashed together. I didn’t want to wait for him to say anything, for him to be the one to start this, if he even would have.

  Still he was silent. Still he watched me as if I intruded on his time, his space, even if he had called me here.

  “I have nowhere else to go.” I breathed out slowly, trying to appear calm, but I knew I was failing miserably at it. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do.”

  He lifted a dark eyebrow, maybe waiting for me to continue or for me to shut the fuck up.

  God, my throat was so thick. My heart raced, my hand
s shook, and I felt like I was on drugs, like I’d taken some speed and had no control over my body right now.

  When he didn’t say anything after that, I clenched my jaw, feeling light-headed, like I could pass out right now. Would he turn me down, beat me for being so brazen as to ask for help? Shit, why had he brought me here anyway? He still hadn’t told me that much. Maybe seeing me squirm got him off? And if he agreed, what would he want in return?

  Oh, you know.

  But I could handle some rough sex, even if I had no experience with it whatsoever. I could be whoever, whatever he wanted me to be if it meant saving my life.

  It wasn’t until the earth opened up and hell presented itself that I realized my life wasn’t disposable. I wanted to live, wanted to be a better person. I wanted that silver lining, that happily ever after. I wasn’t foolish enough to think I’d ever get any of that, but I still wanted it, and I was willing to do anything to make sure I kept moving forward.

  It seemed like forever that we stayed like that: him watching me, his focus calculating, intimidating.

  “You think I’d be interested in doing anything for you?”

  I couldn’t deny that I was terrified for even asking this dangerous man for help. It was stupid. “I hope you can.” I swallowed. “I mean, you’ve been watching me. You had me come here, into your office—”

  He made this deep sound in his throat, cutting me off, making me even tenser, more frightened.

  “What makes you think I can help you, that I would help you?” His face remained a stoic mask, a stone statue. “Maybe I want you here, watch you, called you into my office because I want to defile you.” The way he spoke, his voice, was like ice, so emotionless, so hard and unforgiving. I had no doubt he meant that.

  I was on the verge of crying.

  He eyed me for a long second. “You screamed of desperation, and I won’t lie and say I’m not like a vulture wanting to feed off that.”

  My entire body went rigid, frozen to the core.

  “Because that would be a bold-faced fucking lie.”

  His voice was so deep, so heavy, that I felt it weighing down on me, sucking me under like a current, making me hold on for dear life. I opened my mouth but closed it promptly. I didn’t know what to say, how to answer. I felt like I’d fallen down a rabbit hole. But this was no dream. This was reality. It was my reality.

  “Tell me why I should do anything for you that doesn’t benefit me completely.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. It was the only thing I could come up with in that moment. This man didn’t even have to say anything for me to be afraid of him.

  His expression was stoic, his face a hard mask of indifference.

  This was a mistake, a terrible, horrible mistake.

  Although the truth was I’d known that deep down inside. The truth was I already had enough mistakes under my belt. What was one more?

  “I can give you whatever you want, whatever you need.”

  He made this sound in the back of his throat after I spoke, and I didn’t know what to make of it.

  “You can give me whatever I want?” There was this hard edge to his voice as he looked at me. “And what exactly is it you think I want?” He moved his gaze up and down my body. I felt like he was undressing me right then, like he’d reached out and torn the clothes from me as if they were tissue paper.

  I clenched my hands into tight fists at my sides, but even that couldn’t help the shaking that consumed me.

  “I don’t know,” I said again, feeling stupid. Show strength. “I don’t know anyone else that can handle my problem, that can get Ricky off my back.” I took a step closer, but a blast of frigid air that seemed to come from Cameron stopped me. “He’ll do unspeakable things to me.” More silence. “I was foolish to go to a piece of scum man who gave me money. I shouldn’t have taken it, but I did, and now I’m in this situation.” God, I sounded pathetic. “I can offer you…me.”

  Then maybe you should have been smarter. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone to a motherfucker who uses people like toilet paper.

  If Cameron cared, I could imagine he’d have said something like that. Hell, I’d said that to myself many times over. I didn’t know what this payment would entail, even if he did agree to help me. But I’d do anything. “I owe a very bad man money,” I said again, as if maybe he didn’t get how grave my situation was. “I never spent a dime of it, but I know they are following me.” I ran my hands over my thighs, a nervous habit I’d always had. “I know they’ll hurt me before I can do anything about it, make my life right…” Or as right, as normal as it could be for me. I shivered at the thought of what they could do to me.

  “And you think I can come to an agreement, that I’d give a fuck what happened to you regarding you owning some piece of shit money?” His voice was shrewd, his gaze glacial. “I don’t think you realize the type of man you’re standing in front of.” There was almost this touch of amusement in his voice. Almost.

  A criminal?

  A drug lord?

  A killer?

  He’s probably that and more. So much more.

  “Tell me what type of man you are,” I whispered, not thinking he’d actually be honest. I thought the corner of his lips quirked up, but it was gone before I could really see if it was there.

  “What type of man do you think I am? What type of man would you need to help you get out of your situation?”

  Could he hear my heart? It was beating painfully hard. “I think you’re worse than them in the sense of being dangerous, in knowing exactly what you want and how to get it.” I took a steadying breath. “I think you’re the type of man, the only type of man, who can help me.” That awarded me with a flicker of emotion over his face, but it was gone as soon as I saw it.

  He stayed silent. That was the worst of all.

  “Please,” I said, all but begging now, desperate. I’d already opened my mouth and asked him for help. There was no going back now. If he wouldn’t help me, I’d be up shit creek without a paddle.

  I’m already in that situation.

  Hell, I’d rather be dead than think of what those assholes would do to me. Cameron certainly seemed far worse, far scarier, than what I was currently dealing with, and he’d only said a handful of words to me, only stared at me, maybe gauging how “worth it” I was.

  He chuckled then, but it wasn’t humorous, wasn’t filled with amusement. It was the laugh of a depraved man…of the very devil himself, perhaps.

  “I’ve always liked the sound of begging.”

  I bet he did.

  I looked around his office. Aside from the television monitors behind him that showcased the entire club, and his desk and chair, there wasn’t anything else in the room. It was like a coffin, a large, cold and frightening coffin. It was a place for someone to rot in the ground, away from anything and everything.

  It was dark, like his soul, no doubt.

  I didn’t have anything of real value to offer—that was my problem, and how I’d gotten into this shit storm to begin with. But a man wanted one thing, and it was something I had, something I could give him in exchange for his help. Whether he’d accept it or not, deem it worthy of his time, was left to be determined.

  It’s the only thing I can offer.

  Before I could say anything, Cameron started drumming his fingers on the desk, his focus trained on me, as if I was intruding on his time, despite the fact that he’d invited me here. I shifted on my feet, feeling very vulnerable in this moment. I could see his mind working, and whatever he was thinking about couldn’t be good.

  I took a step closer and saw something dark come into his eyes. I wasn’t wearing anything sexy, but I didn’t need to show off skin to get a guy’s attention. The way he skimmed my body with his gaze told me all I needed to know.

  Yeah, all men wanted something, one thing, but I was pretty sure I had something a man like Cameron could appreciate…nothing to lose.

  “Tell me your name.”

&
nbsp; “Sofia Mikellson,” I supplied, my voice wavering despite my desperate internal struggle to stay calm.

  “Sofia.” The way he said my name, the way it rolled off his tongue shouldn’t have made me tingle, shouldn’t have made my body tighten. He said it with this thick darkness in his voice that should have scared the shit out of me.

  It did.

  “Isn’t asking for help, for me to take care of your problem, a reason you got into your current situation?”

  His words like a hot poker right through me.

  “Yes,” I whispered, not bothering to lie.

  Or maybe I was trying to jump out of the frying pan, the heat turned up so that I’d burn until there was nothing left.

  I could be a slave to his desires, a submissive to his dominance. I could be his personal victim. If it meant that I stayed alive in the end, so be it.

  It seemed like an eternity before he finally moved, before he finally spoke.

  He leaned forward, his forearms on the table, his expression suddenly intense. “You need my help, and the payment I want in return is your body…used in any way I see fit, for the duration of two weeks.” And then he smirked. It was dark and dangerous, and shouldn’t have made me feel anything other than self-loathing. “You’ll be mine, Sofia. Any. Way. I. See. Fit.”

  I swallowed, knowing there was no other option. Two weeks. That was it. I could survive, right? “Yes.”

  And so it was. I’d just sold myself to the devil.

  Chapter 9

  I felt like a lifetime had passed since I’d spoken with Cameron, told him my troubles…asked him for help. But in reality it had only been a few days. It was like he wanted to make me wait, to wonder. It was as if the urgency to have me was there, facing me, threatening me, but taking his time was at the forefront.

  It made me wonder what he had planned, what he wanted.

  And I had a feeling that’s exactly what he wanted.

  Hours, seconds, minutes, of me wondering what would happen, when it would take place. I’d explained my situation with Ricky in more detail to Cameron. I’d told him all I could remember, his look demanding I give it all up.