“He…he would have…I don’t know…punished her, I’m sure,” she sputtered.
“He would have either banished her or killed her,” Henrik stated flatly.
“My father wouldn’t do that to his own niece,” she argued, turning on her stool to keep her attention focused on him as he maneuvered behind her.
“He would have either let her rot in the cellar, or he would have thrown her to the wolves. Do you honestly think he’d simply lecture her and let it be done?”
Her brows knit together.
“She wasn’t just fucking his competition, she was feeding them information that was screwing up his shipments. She was stealing from him, Megara. He’s killed men for less.”
Her eyes widened. “He…it was still his decision to make.”
Henrik lifted a shoulder. “It was a quick death at my hand or a tortuous one at the hands of your father.”
She blinked a few times. “Are you telling me you killing my cousin was a mercy?”
“For her. Not anyone else.” Henrik could have sent Henrietta home and given Christian all the evidence he needed and let him deal with the girl. She’d been a fool and a traitor, but she would have met a much worse end at the hands of her own family. And he hadn’t allowed that.
He ran the backs of his knuckles over her shoulder. “Now, Oliver told me he found you wandering around downstairs.”
Her body stiffened.
“I told you to have someone escort you if you wanted to roam around, didn’t I?”
“There wasn’t anyone around,” she said defiantly.
“Then you shouldn’t have gone exploring, but I’ll forgive you this one time for not obeying me.” He picked up her hand and tugged her from the stool. “Let me give you a tour of the downstairs. There’s something I want you to see.”
“I already saw the rooms. I don’t need to see anything more.”
He held her hand tight. “You do.”
“Henrik.” She pulled back, and he stopped, turning to stare her down. She didn’t cower beneath his glare like he’d expected.
“Megara, come with me downstairs.” He gentled his tone, but the demand was still there. He let go of her hand.
She would either bolt from the room or follow, but he didn’t choose for her. He turned his back and made his way to the door leading to the lower level. As he stepped down the stairs, soft footsteps followed behind him. Still not giving her more direction, he led her down the long hallway, past the cells, past the empty rooms, to a locked room at the end of the hallway.
“What is this place?” she asked from behind him.
He pulled out the keys and unlocked the door, shoving it open and crooking his finger at her. “Come here, Megara.”
She hesitated only a breath before coming to him.
Her gasp at what she saw in the locked room echoed in his ears.
14
Megara backed up several steps, her hand covering her mouth at the sight before her. A torture chamber. It was the only description she could come up with for the devices she saw inside the room.
“Go in, Megara.” Henrik waved his hand.
“No.” She shook her head. She could probably run upstairs before he caught her. Maybe she could make it around the corner and hide. Or maybe he’d grab her and drag her into the room anyway.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, sounding wary of having to tell her that. But it was his own fault. He had hurt her; he had created that mistrust. “Here, you hold the keys.” He held out the small ring with two keys hanging from it. “There’s a lock on the inside of the door as well. With these, you can unlock both sides.”
Tentatively, she took the keys from him.
“There.” He gestured for her to pass him and go into the room. She kept her gaze on him as she entered the room, her heart beating hard as she moved around the room.
“Do you know what this is for?” he asked, standing next to a tall wooden pole with several rings screwed into the top.
“It’s a whipping pole.” Her throat clenched as the words squeaked out. Was he trying to scare her with this room?
“That’s one use, yes.” He nodded, then walked over to a leather padded table with leather stirrups protruding from one end. Nothing in her doctor’s office had been so elaborate. Nor did the doctor’s have thick straps to hold down the patient.
“What…what’s that for?” she asked, inching her way to the wall.
“This.” He cranked the head of the table lower so the stirrups were higher. “This is a breeding table.”
The air whooshed from her lungs, making the room spin.
“I…” She couldn’t catch the words flying through her mind.
“Did you think I wouldn’t know what you did last night?” he asked, leaning one hip against the table and folding his arms over his massive chest.
Nausea rolled through her stomach. She wouldn’t get on that table. No matter what he did, she would not allow him to bind her down and breed her like some fucking animal. She had more worth than that.
“Tell me what you did,” he provoked when she gave no response.
“I went to the washroom.” He already knew lying wouldn’t help her situation, it would only serve to give him a reason to use one of the other devices in the room.
“And what did you do in there?” he asked casually.
Her face heated. “You already know.”
He pinched his lips together. “I do. You left your little kit out in the bathroom trashcan. I found it this morning when I was looking for you.” He shrugged. “But I had already known last night when I came back into the room and found your bed empty, the bathroom door closed, and the water running.”
Her stomach flipped over and over again. Why wasn’t he yelling? Or raging at her? The calm in his voice, the resolve in his eyes, made the tension thicken in the air.
“Several rooms you passed in the hallway are equipped with one of these,” he said when she remained silent. He patted the breeding table. “Some of them have fun toys, some don’t. It depends on the situation and the woman being impregnated.”
“Like an animal,” she whispered.
“Yes. That’s how they are treated, because they don’t have any other purpose. Their owners bring them here, strap them down, and fuck them until they’re pregnant. There have been women strapped to these tables for weeks until they finally carried a child, only being allowed up to be bathed, oiled, and put right back in position.”
“And once they are pregnant?” She managed to control the tremble in her voice.
“They’re released back to their husband, or whoever brought them. I don’t know what happens to them after.”
“Released back? Don’t their husbands or men stay?”
He tilted his head. “Why would they stay?”
Realization hit her.
“You mean, you’re…you…”
He laughed. “No. I don’t have a herd of little bastards running around. My father’s men. He has a whole team of them used for such a purpose. It’s been a long while since this room’s been used, though. Since my father lived here actually.” He hopped onto the table, crossing his ankles.
“You just wanted to scare me.” Breathing came a bit easier. These things he described weren’t done by him. Whatever monster lived in his soul…it didn’t do these things.
“No.” He dashed the hope blossoming. “I wanted to show you what will happen if you ever wash away my seed again.” His voice darkened, as did his glare. “I will strap you to this table and fuck you over and over again until my child grows in your belly. You’ll live on your back until you’ve done your job.”
Tears built in her eyes. There would be no civility in this marriage. The little he’d shown during breakfast, the softness he’d shown in bed last night…they were tiny moments that meant nothing. This…this was who he was. He had an agenda: to produce an heir for his great legacy. Until she did that for him, he would give her no peace.
> “I wanted to show you to this room specifically because it has the post.” He hopped off the table and brought his hand to the thick belt around his waist. “You disobeyed me last night, and again this morning. I already said I’d forgive this morning’s adventures, but you’ll pay the price for last night.” He unbuckled his belt. Each metallic jangle echoed in her ears, deafening her to the voice screaming at her to run. Get away from him—far away from everything.
“Henrik, you can’t mean to use that on me.” She pointed to the belt as he began to tug it free from his loops. “I’m a grown woman!” she argued.
“Yes.” He nodded, then ripped the belt from the loops in one swift motion. “That’s why you aren’t getting your little bottom spanked bent over my knee. You’ll be bound to the post, and you’ll take your strapping—like a grown woman.”
Her heart stopped.
“You can’t.” She looked toward the door. The keys were still in her hand. She could rush out and lock him inside. That would give her enough time to get back up stairs and out of the house.
And then what?
The estate was vast. She’d have to run to the gates and climb over them if they were locked just to get off his lands.
And that was only the beginning of the problem. She had nowhere to go. Her father wouldn’t take her in. He’d known what sort of man Henrik was when he’d sold her to him.
“I practically hear the wheels turning in that gorgeous head of yours,” he taunted. “You might get out of the room, maybe even up the stairs, but then what? You know you have no choice here. I warned you, and you still disobeyed.”
“You tried to convince me you were honorable.” She shuffled backward until she hit the wall.
“An honorable man is dependable, honest. That’s what you said. Those were your words. If I didn’t follow through, wouldn’t that make me less honorable in your eyes?” He stalked toward her.
“This is not what I meant.” She shook her head, clenching the keys in her hand. Maybe she could force him out somehow and lock herself in. Just until he calmed down.
Except, he was already calm. No anger laced outrage. No raised voice or cruel words.
“Remove your clothes, Megara.” He stopped an arm’s length from her, tapping the leather belt against his leg. “You take punishments in the nude.”
“I don’t want this.” The plea came out ragged and strange. She’d never begged before, but if it would save her from tasting that belt, she would try.
“I understand.” He nodded. “Do it anyway.”
She took in a shaky breath. Pleading with him wouldn’t work. Of course, it wouldn’t. How many men had begged for their lives before he squashed them in the name of his father?
A decision needed to be made. If she went along with him, she was giving him permission to be barbaric for the rest of her life. She couldn’t let him think she would tolerate this—could tolerate it.
“No.” She squared her shoulders and looked him in the eyes.
For a long moment, silence roared between them.
“No?” He tilted his chin down, giving her a sarcastic grin.
“I won’t let you do this.”
He nodded. “Okay then. We’ll do it your way.” He lunged forward, wrapping his hand around her throat, cutting off her air. She clawed at him, but he ignored her.
Pushing her to the side, he maneuvered her to the pole. Any attempt to scream was thwarted with his hand still clenching her. She hit at his arms, but she doubted he even felt the attack.
Once at the pole, he released her. She sucked in a long, burning breath, but it was a short-lived escape. He had her turned and pinned against the pole while she struggled to get her breathing back to a normal pattern.
“See? We did it your way, but I still got what I wanted,” he whispered into her ear.
Her wrists were bound over her head, and no amount of pulling was getting her free.
“No!” she cried out when she heard the dangle of his belt buckle again.
“You’re right, not yet.” His chest pressed against her back as he wrapped his hands around her middle, searching her waistline. He found the button of her jeans and worked it open, pulling the zipper down next. She tried to squirm from his grasp, but his thumbs were already hooked into her waistline.
One quick tug had her jeans and panties bunched up at her knees. Her shirt, pulled up because of her positioning, covered a small bit of her back only.
“There. Now, you’re ready.” He patted her ass with his hand. “Normally, I’d give you a few smacks to warm you up, but you wanted this your way, so…you’ll just have to take what I give you.”
“Please,” she begged, trying to twist her head enough see him. If she could just get him to look at her, to listen to her. “Please, don’t do this. Please, I swear, I’ll never wash after…” she choked on the word as the belt connected for the first time, unleashing a white-hot pain across both of her ass cheeks.
“I know you won’t, Megara.” He shifted his position behind her. “Such a nice ass,” he spoke into her ear while cupping her ass. “I’d rather see it bent over the bed with my cock in your pussy, but I won’t ever allow disobedience to go unchecked between us.” The way he spoke, he made it sound like it was his duty to dole out a punishment in order to keep them whole.
One problem with his thought process: there was no us.
“Henrik!” she screamed with the next lash.
“I’m going easy on you this time,” he said just before the third strike of the belt lifted her up onto her toes.
“Then stop.” She leaned her forehead against the pole, trying to gather her breath.
“Three more.” He brought the belt down across her ass cheeks again, and she clenched her eyes tight, pushing a tear out.
“Two more,” he counted down, delivering another lick. Her flesh was on fire. How could the belt hit one spot, but set her entire ass into flames?
“One more.” He patted her ass with his hand again.
Bracing herself did nothing when the last lash struck her. Another cry from the pain. Another tear slipped out. Nothing she did to conserve her dignity worked. Her shoulders shook as a hard sob broke loose.
He cupped her ass cheek. “Not as hot as it will be if there’s a next time,” he vowed. She stiffened as his fingers slipped between her legs and ran through her folds. “Hmmm…you’re wet.”
“Don’t.” She shook her head. If he used her now, she would crumble.
“This is good, Megara. It means hope,” he said, as though it explained anything.
The belt buckle jangled again as he put it back on his pants, but she didn’t care that the whipping was over. She had a lifetime of this to endure. This was only the beginning.
Another sob broke free, and the dam was gone.
Henrik pulled up her panties, then her jeans, rebuttoning them before he went about getting her wrists out of the cuffs and helping her back onto her feet. She dragged the back of her hand across her cheeks and tried to rush from the room, but he caught her.
Hauling her into his arms, he pressed her cheek to his chest. No words were uttered, no more threats or pain, just a gentle embrace as he gently kissed her forehead.
“You may have the day to yourself. I’ll ask Oliver to show you the rest of the house, except the fourth floor. I don’t want you up there without me the first time. He can show you the stables if you’d like to see some of the horses. I don’t ride anymore, but some of the men here do.”
She pulled back from him. “That’s it?” she asked. Six lashes of his belt? That was all he would give her? It was more than she wanted, but less than she could have taken. Why had he taken mercy on her? As much as it had hurt, she knew he’d been holding back on her account.
“I have a few meetings this afternoon, and I have work to do. You’ve had a hard couple days.” He brushed the hair stuck to her cheek away. “I’m not the monster you think I am. I already told you that.”
“You whi
pped me.” She sniffed.
“And if you defy me again, we’ll be right back here. But it’s done.”
She opened her mouth, sure the words would come to her if she started talking, but nothing happened.
He kissed her cheek.
“The table? You won’t actually…”
His expression grew stern. “I will. If I have to, I will.”
She stepped out of his embrace. “Once I’m pregnant, you’ll leave me be?”
He tugged on her jeans until she had to step toward him. “Megara, before I met you, I planned to let you wander the world free of me, marriage in name only. Then my father told me I needed an heir. And I thought, fine, you’ll have my baby, and then we’ll part ways. But now that I have you, now that I’ve tasted you and witnessed you like this…” he cupped her cheek, “I don’t think I can ever let you go.”
15
“You’re sure?” Henrik marched through the warehouse toward Castor’s box car.
“I know what I heard,” Hammond said with conviction as they made their way to the car. Hammond controlled the shipments. He knew the ins and outs of the operation and rarely needed to contact Henrik for anything other than to report in.
“Castor doesn’t work with girls. Why would he send a box car full of them?” Henrik asked more to himself. “And why the fuck wouldn’t he tell me they were in there? How long has this been here?” He pointed to the red box car as they approached.
“Arrived yesterday morning.” Hammond motioned to take the lock cutters from one of the men standing by.
“Open it.” Henrik waved his hand. If Castor was moving girls through his territory, he would have told Henrik. It was a direct violation of the agreement between Haden and Jackson.
Hammond cut through the thick lock and tossed it to the ground.
“I’m opening the door,” he warned anyone inside. No response came back to him. Not even a shuffle. Maybe Hammond hadn’t heard what he’d thought. Maybe the whimpers had come from outside the warehouse.
Hammond shoved the door, shedding light into the dark container.
Finding His Strength: The Dirty Heroes Collection Page 9
