by Alice Raine
I pulled in a shuddering breath as images of that night flooded my mind again. ‘She climbed back on and sat astride me again, but this time she gripped my hips with her thighs and trapped my cock below her arse, and then…’ I drew in a shuddering breath and spat out my last words in a hurried rush. ‘Then from behind her back she pulled out a knife and just started stabbing me.’
There was a heavy second of silence as Oliver tried to compute my words. He put his beer down so sharply that a spurt of bubbles shot from the top and the whole bottle toppled sideways.
‘Mierda!’ he cursed as he grabbed the bottle and steadied it, and then stared at me in utter horror. ‘She stabbed you? What the fuck, Marcus?’
‘She’d obviously taken one of my knives from the kitchen earlier in the evening and hidden it in the drawers. Even as she was stabbing me I recognised the handle as one of mine.’ I roughly ran both my hands over my face in an attempt to steady my frayed nerves. ‘I was stabbed with my own fucking chef’s knife.’
The final quarter of my beer didn’t last long, and as I downed it I made the decision to get something stronger from the bar. I could always leave my car and grab a cab home. ‘We’d been having issues for a while. Her moods had been swinging dramatically, and I’d been working long hours and barely ever seeing her, but I’d never in a million years expected it to go that far.’ I paused, my hand instinctively going to my stomach and tracing the largest of the silver scars.
‘The first one was here. It went deep, but somehow managed to miss all my major organs and arteries.’ A chill ran through my body as I recalled in precise detail the feeling of the sharp point piercing my skin and then the agonising dragging of my flesh as she twisted it and used the jagged edge to stab deeper. ‘As soon as I realised what was happening I tried to buck her off, but she was like a fucking prime bronco rider and manged to get another three stabs here, and around here.’ I traced the smaller, deep scars up closer to my ribs.
‘My fucking hands were tied, but I managed to use my legs and almost knock her off me. That’s when she hunkered down and gripped on and these injuries happened.’ Pulling up my shirt, I exposed my abdomen and showed Oliver. ‘See the lines here?’ I traced the numerous silvery lines that traversed my stomach from one side to the other. There were almost too many to count. ‘These are from the serrated blade as it dragged across me in the struggle. I think she was trying to gut me.’
Oliver’s face had paled so much it was now chalky white. He shook his head in obvious astonishment and swore under his breath again.
‘Ironically, if it hadn’t been such a good quality knife those ones probably wouldn’t have even broken the skin.’
A wheezed breath broke from Oliver’s lungs, and I turned to look at him. He was sweating and holding the table edge with a white-knuckled grip. ‘Jesus, Marcus.’
‘Yeah,’ I agreed quietly, before shrugging. ‘To be fair, I got off lightly.’
Seeing his disbelieving expression, I clarified what I meant. ‘We’d been in the middle of sex. Man, when she came back to the bed my dick was standing up like a fucking flagpole. If she’d been thinking clearer she could had chopped it off before I’d even realised she had the knife in her hand.’
Oliver’s eyes widened as understanding dawned, and I tried to hide my amusement as he crossed his legs.
‘Exactly. So, I have a few scars now, but I’m alive and at least I still have my tackle.’
We sat in muted silence for a second or so. Then, apparently reading my earlier thoughts, Oliver abruptly stood up and disappeared to the bar before returning with two large glasses of whisky and two more beers.
Lifting the whisky to his lips, he gave me a thin smile. ‘I don’t know if you need this, but I certainly do.’ He slung back the amber liquid in one go, winced at the burn, and sat back with a deep breath. ‘So, what happened? And what the hell caused her to do it?’
I rubbed my hands over my stomach and settled back in my seat, glad that the worst of my story was now out. ‘I got lucky, really. I managed to use my legs to throw her off me, and by complete chance she banged her head on the bedside table as she fell and knocked herself unconscious. I was bleeding heavily, but I managed to snap one of the bars on the headboard to free my hand and reach my mobile.’
Following Oliver’s lead, I downed my scotch and relished the burn as it hit the back of my throat. ‘I called the cops, and then passed out from blood loss, but thankfully the police and ambulance arrived before Celia came round. I probably should have been embarrassed that they found me buck naked and tied to a bed, but I was so fucking glad to see them. I managed to tell them what happened, and Celia was arrested, and I was rushed to hospital and taken into surgery.’
Oliver placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. ‘Fuck. This is horrific. I can’t believe I didn’t know this. I’d have flown over to be with you, Marcus.’
Nodding, I gave him a grateful smile. ‘I know you would have, thank you, but I didn’t want people to know or fuss.’ Starting on my next beer, I shrugged. ‘I was embarrassed that I hadn’t seen through her. Once I had been stabilised in the hospital the police told me that they’d done a background search on Celia and found three reports of domestic abuse filed against her back in the UK.’
Oliver frowned, but nodded and leaned in closer as he listened.
‘She hadn’t gone as far as stabbing in her previous relationships, but she’d been physically violent. On each occasion the charges had been dropped due to lack of evidence, though.’ As a distraction I began to pick at the label on my bottle. ‘She’d moved to the US, met me, and, well, you know the rest of the story.’
Oliver had only met Celia a few times when he’d visited me, but he’d never taken to her. I should have trusted his gut and got away, but hindsight is a great thing once you know the outcome.
‘She’s in prison for attempted murder. I told you guys we’d broken up because I was too embarrassed to tell you all the truth.’
Oliver tried to speak so suddenly that he almost spat out his mouthful of beer. ‘She tried to kill you! There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Marcus.’
‘I guess not. I was basically a victim of domestic abuse, though. I’m a big, strong guy, and I let that happen… I couldn’t… I couldn’t imagine telling everyone. I felt like such a fool. Once I started to think back over it, it was obvious to me that she was abusive all along, but with my preference for a little kink she managed to disguise it as her being in a dominant role. I was working such long hours that we weren’t together much, so it helped hide the issue for longer.’
We drank in companionable silence for a few minutes, both of us stewing in everything that had just been aired, but it was Oliver who finally broke the silence. ‘So, the cuffs with Sasha – that was because you’re worried it might happen again?’
I grimaced and nodded. ‘Not just Sasha. I’ve only slept with two women since everything with Celia happened. Both one-night things, and both times I’ve had a panic attack and had to cuff their hands to the bed,’ I admitted quietly.
I closed my eyes as I recalled the outraged look on Sasha’s face again and sighed heavily.
‘Logically, I know it won’t happen again, but… but cuffing them makes me feel in control. It kinda fits with my sexual choices of kink, too, so it hasn’t been a problem until Sasha.’
‘What happened with Sasha that was different?’
I let out a long breath and met Oliver’s eyes. ‘I wanted more than just a few hours of fun. I wanted her to stay the night, and she wanted that, too… but I… I couldn’t get past the idea of sleeping in a bed with her free to wander around the apartment.’ I let out a dry laugh and shook my head, knowing that I probably sounded like a complete lunatic. ‘Even though I knew Sasha wouldn’t do that to me I couldn’t relax. I moved the bedside drawers out of her reach and figured that if I could leave just one cuff on she wouldn’t be able to get to the kitchen where my knives are kept. At the time, it seemed like a
good solution. She could sleep over, and I’d feel safe.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘I know it sounds crazy now.’
‘Actually, it doesn’t, not now I know what you went through with Celia, but if you want something more with Sasha I think you’re going to have to tell her all of this. She was really freaked out by it. You need to explain it to her.’
My refusal was on my lips even before he’d finished his sentence. ‘I can’t.’
‘What are you going to do, then? Be single for the rest of your life?’ he questioned, obviously trying to knock some much-needed sense into me.
I let out an aggravated grunt and ran my hands through my hair, pulling out several strands as I did so. The idea of telling all this to Sasha made me feel physically sick. ‘She’ll think I need a straitjacket and a long stay in an asylum.’
Oliver shook his head and nudged my arm. ‘I don’t think so, Marcus. I know she puts on that brash, ballsy front, but underneath all that she’s really kind-hearted. I didn’t like her at all when I first met her in Twist, but I’ve seen a totally different side to her since being with Robyn. Sasha’s caring, compassionate, and loyal.’
He was right, Sasha was all those things, and the idea that I’d never get to truly experience them pained me greatly, but it didn’t change matters.
‘She likes you a lot, Marcus. Robyn told me that she’s never seen Sasha get messed up about a guy, but you’ve well and truly gotten under her skin.’
My ears perked up at that little bit of information. I’d gotten under her skin? Well, that certainly made two of us, because I had to fight to stop my mind from wandering to thoughts of her twenty-four hours a day.
‘If you like her just as much, then maybe you two could talk and work through things. Maybe she could help you get over your issues?’
It had been hard enough telling this to Oliver, my closest friend, so opening up such a vulnerable part of myself to Sasha seemed like a complete impossibility. I just couldn’t see it happening. Downing most of my beer, I decided to keep my glum thoughts to myself. Instead, I said the words Oliver obviously wanted to hear. ‘Yeah, maybe.’
And maybe one day pigs would fly.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Oliver
The car containing Marcus and David pulled up to the kerb and I immediately clocked the frown on Marcus’s face as he saw that I was standing on the pavement with Sasha and Robyn. Once David had parked up, the two of them got out, but I noticed that Marcus was far more reluctant to leave the relative safety of the vehicle and only did so when David rapped impatiently on the passenger side window.
I narrowed my eyes as Marcus finally joined us on the pavement, dragging his feet and flashing Sasha a glower in the process. For her part, Sasha seemed equally as uncomfortable with his arrival; crossing her arms defensively over her chest and straightening her spine like a spear.
Hmm. So, it would seem things between our nearest and dearest friends were still on the frosty to arctic scale, then. To be honest, I’d suspected as much, and had secretly arranged today’s little meeting in the hopes of smoothing things out between them before the wedding next week. They might both be adamant that their stalemate wouldn’t affect the service, but I knew deep down that it was worrying Robyn, and so in turn it was now an issue troubling me.
‘Thanks for coming.’ I exchanged a brief handshake with Marcus and gave David a pat on the back – he wasn’t really a handshake kind of guy. Don’t get me wrong, beneath his tattoos and biker appearance he was a lovely man, but if anything, he was more into greeting people with a hug, which I personally found a little over the top. ‘We needed some muscle to help us get Sasha’s things up to her new flat.’
Marcus blinked, and then, casting his gaze over the pile of things in the back of the van beside us, he gave a small sigh as understanding finally dawned.
‘You said you needed help shifting some stuff,’ he said to me, his tone accusatory as if he was aware what I was up to.
I crossed my arms and smiled. ‘I do. It’s just not my stuff that needs shifting.’ I kept my reply light, finding a perverse pleasure in watching all this play out.
Marcus ran his eyes over the gathered group again before giving me a despairing look. ‘Who packed the van in the first place? Why aren’t they unpacking it, too?’
‘Sasha’s brother helped, but he’s had to go off for a meeting.’
For a few seconds, I genuinely thought that Marcus was going to just turn and walk away, but then he turned his gaze on Sasha again, his frown still evident, and still just as deep. ‘You’re moving here?’
‘I am,’ Sasha spat, her eyes lighting with a spark of irritation. ‘I know it’s just around the corner from your place, but don’t worry, Marcus, I’ll make sure not to touch you if we bump into each other on the street. I vividly recall how much it freaks you out.’
Ouch. Now that I knew the backstory of Marcus’s issues with contact I could imagine how much her words were hurting him, and as I shot him a glance I saw his shoulders sag and his eyes drop to the floor.
Mierda. I was really regretting my plan of getting them together today. Yesterday, when I’d concocted it, I’d thought it was such a good idea, and I’d had visions of them reconciling, or at least smoothing things over a little, but with all my careful plotting I’d overlooked one thing – Sasha’s sass and her sharp tongue.
David flashed me a confused look, and in return I just shook my head and then gave him a short nod to indícate that I’d fill him in on the drama later. I was considering telling Marcus to head off home – after all, David and I could manage the lifting between the two of us – but to my surprise, Marcus rolled up his sleeves and, after flashing me a disgruntled glance, grabbed a box.
‘Let’s get on with it, then. Where am I going with this?’
Sasha
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Why was I such a hurtful bitch? The agonised look on Marcus’s face when I’d made my snarky comments about how touching freaked him out had been enough to cause a sharp stab of guilt in my chest that still hadn’t relented.
My mouth had always worked faster than my brain, and my bluntness had got me into trouble more times than I could count. But the big difference here – the massive difference – was that I immediately regretted my words and the obvious pain they had inflicted upon Marcus.
Not to mention the fact that I was a complete cow for saying it in front of a gathered group of his friends like some sort of public shaming. Shit. I literally couldn’t feel guiltier.
Things between us had ended badly, and yes, his request to tie me to the bed all night had freaked me out, but from the distressed looks he’d given me I felt sure there was more to his phobia of physical contact than it just being his preferred sexual kink. I was convinced there was a reason he feared touch, and a reason he had wanted me tied up, and the fact that I didn’t know what it was drove me insane, but it still didn’t justify me being so awful to him.
Marcus gave me another heavy-lidded look, and then, just when I thought he was either going to fire back a returning insult, or turn around and walk away, he surprised the hell out of me by picking up a box and glancing around the street.
‘Let’s get on with it, then. Where am I going with this?’
His words prompted me into action, and I scooped up another box and headed up the steps towards my new home. ‘It’s this way. Top floor, I’m afraid.’ I made an effort to ensure my words were softer this time, and even though I didn’t aim my comments at him directly, he gave me a look of surprise at my gentler tone.
Yeah, the bitch is reining in her sass, I thought with an eye roll as I pushed open the front door and began the lengthy climb up the stairs.
Marcus and I managed to avoid each other for most of the afternoon, but after several hours of work, Oliver and David were working their way across the lounge with a large set of drawers destined for my bedroom and I found myself trapped with Marcus in the lounge area with no way out.
We exchanged a brief gla
nce and stood there in awkward silence like two complete strangers forced to share a very small lift.
David and Oliver were now jammed between a sideboard and an armchair and didn’t seem about to move quickly, and I shuffled on my feet, hating the tension that I could feel wrapping around us both.
Finally, I heard Marcus sigh beside me. ‘It’s a nice apartment. Quirky,’ he murmured as his eyes roamed the space, seeming desperate to look anywhere but at me.
I pulled my gaze from his and glanced around my new lounge. I’d already moved most of the furniture into this room with my brother a couple of days ago, so it looked quite together, and I was pleased with how cosy I’d made it. Fairy lights dangled across the patio windows, the sofa was covered in cushions and blankets, and the wooden coffee table and bookcase were a light honey colour and gave the room a lovely warmth.
‘It’s very you.’ I wasn’t sure what his comment meant, but it seemed to be a compliment, so I accepted it with a nod.
‘It’s pretty small, though. Nowhere near as big as your place,’ I said lamely, at a loss for any other small talk to fill the void between us. Marcus frowned, and I winced at my words. Bringing up any reference to the night we’d spent together at his apartment wasn’t exactly the best idea given our current stand-off.
As we both continued to stand there awkwardly, I tried to pluck up the courage to apologise for my snarky attitude downstairs. ‘Marcus, I…’ I turned towards him to try to get a little privacy and without even thinking properly, I placed a hand on his waist in an effort at shielding us from prying ears.
My contact must have lasted no more than three seconds before Marcus sucked in a harsh breath and knocked my hand away before literally vaulting over the armchair that was blocking our exit from the room. He clattered down the stairs so fast I was surprised I didn’t hear him tumble down them in a panicked pile.
Oliver and David paused with the set of drawers balanced between them, gawking at Marcus as he hightailed it out of the room. In sync, their heads swivelled towards me, but upon seeing my crestfallen expression they quickly dropped their eyes and continued their task while attempting to pretend that nothing unusual had just happened.
