Decadence After Dark: The Complete Collection (Dark Romance box set) : Owned, Claimed, Ruined, Lie With Me, Elicit (Decadence After Dark )

by M Never

  “No! No! No!” I continue to thrash in an insane fit. “I can’t go back! I can never go back!”

  “Hey! London, look at me!” Jett’s voice penetrates the madness in my head. “London, look at me!” He grabs my face and shakes my head.

  The panic-stricken tears start to pour.

  “Jett, let me go! Let me run!” I push on his shoulders and ramble like a madwoman. “I have to run!”

  “You’re not going anywhere until you calm down. You’re hysterical!”

  “Jett, please!” I scream. “Before he finds me!”

  “Who? Before who finds you?” He keeps an impenetrable hold on my face as he tries to understand. “What happened inside?”

  I cry inconsolably, my body succumbing to the fear, sinking into the cold, wet grass while trapped beneath Jett.

  “London, please,” he begs earnestly in a soft, soothing voice. “Tell me all your secrets so they can become mine, too.”

  “No,” I sob. “The only person who deserves to share my secrets is the devil.”

  “There is nothing you can’t tell me. There isn’t anything I won’t understand.” He sounds so sincere, so worried. It makes the pain of the past harder to bear.

  “Jett, please. Just let me go,” I stress in a strained whisper. “Forget you ever knew me and just let me disappear,” I implore.

  The moon’s glow highlights all his worried features and the shocked and confused look on his beautiful face.

  “You know I could never forget about you. What you’re asking is impossible.” He uses his thumbs to wipe away the wetness descending down my cheeks.

  “Then just kill me.” I move his hands down to my throat. “Just do it right now and put us both out of our misery.”

  Anger flashes in Jett’s acute eyes. “London, you are talking fucking nonsense!” He snatches my wrists and pulls me up.

  “No, I’m not. I’m dead fucking serious. I’d rather die than go back!”

  “Back where? You have to tell me so I can understand.” His grip gets tighter, more urgent. “Trust me. If there’s only one person you’re ever going to trust in your life, let it be me.”

  The tears rain out of my eyes as I crumble under his stare. Simply verbalizing the memoires is emotionally excruciating.

  “I was sixteen.” I finally crack wide fucking open. I’ve never shared this part of my life with anyone, and I don’t know if I’ll survive if I do.

  “What happened when you were sixteen?”

  “I was taken,” I explain through the tears. “Given to a man who did unspeakable, vile things to me for years. I was a slave. I lived in a cage. I was his pet.” My voice disappears.

  Jett’s expression drops. He understands.

  “Who gave you to him?”

  I look dead in his eyes. “My father.”

  “What?” he gasps, appalled.

  “I thought I had been kidnapped. Turns out I was sent to be trained. To be broken.” My lip quivers as the memories surge in like an angry sea. “He wanted a submissive, a slave, and he got one. For a long time. I did everything I was ordered to, no matter how disgusting. I was his signing bonus, his blackmail, his entertainment. Whatever he needed me to be. I had no voice. No face. No soul. I was a beautiful building with nothing inside. And he took full advantage.”

  “And what happened?”

  “I escaped. I’d had enough. I was dying. That night was the last straw.”

  “What night?” Jett hangs on my every single syllable.

  “The night he tied me to a bed and left me there. The night I was used over and over and over again by countless men. Even when I pleaded, even when I cried. Even when the pain engulfed my entire body and I couldn’t take another second, it continued.” I completely break down. “It continued for so long. I was helpless, and he knew. He loved it. They all loved to hear me suffer. It was part of the thrill.”

  “Jesus Christ.” Jett pulls me into his arms and lets me sob out the agony all over his silk shirt. He rocks me consolingly, humming a soothing rhythm in my ear.

  “How did you finally get away?” he asks delicately.

  “When it was finally over, when I was finally released,” I weep. “I was bloodied and bruised and completely destroyed. I didn’t care whether I lived or died. All I cared about was it ending.” I become lost in the memory. “My father’s right-hand man, Silas, always kept a gun tucked away in the waistband of his pants, and I knew it. I knew I could get close to it. He had his time with me, too. Whenever he wanted. Which was often. I knew the two of them so well. Knew their routines, and their habits, and their timetables. I knew them better than anyone.

  “I planned to just grab the gun and shoot myself, but it didn’t happen that way. Silas was too quick and deflected the shot. The bullet ricocheted and ended up hitting my father. We were all in shock, and Silas had to make a split-second choice to either help my father or catch me. He chose my father. I escaped down the service elevator and didn’t look back.”

  “Where did you go?” Jett’s investment is ironclad.

  “I hid in the streets. Cold, hungry, and alone was better than the hell I was living in. I ate out of garbage cans and bathed in public restrooms. I barely survived, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t a slave anymore.”

  “Where was your mother during all this?”

  “I have no idea,” I sniffle. “I never met her. And the few times I did ask about her, my questions were brushed under the rug. The last time I ever tried to find out anything my father threatened that if I didn’t stop pestering him, I’d end up just like her. I was nine, and his outburst scared me to death. Sometimes I wonder,” I whimper. “I wonder if he subjected her to the same hell as me . . .”

  “And she wasn’t lucky enough to escape?” Jett finishes my thought.

  I merely nod. It’s the only response I’m capable of. I’ve often wondered if I was a product of her hell. The thought sickens me, as I mourn a mother I never knew. What’s worse, the idea allows me a look into the window of her life, and what do I see through the glass? My own sad, abhorrent reflection.

  “So how did you end up with Sasha?” Jett urges me to go on.

  “I barely remember, to be honest. One minute, I was huddled in an alleyway, trying to stay out of the rain, and the next, I was getting into a warm car with a strange woman who had kind eyes. She took me in, cleaned me up, helped me start to heal, and when I was ready, she put me to work. She never asked for anything more than what I was ready to give.”

  “That definitely sounds like Sasha.” He smiles wistfully.

  “I liked living with her.” I rest my head wearily against Jett’s chest.

  “Well, I like you living here.” He hugs me tightly. Securely. Protectively.

  “She said I would be a good fit,” I recall her words.

  “You are a good fit. You’re my perfect fit.”

  “None of it matters anymore. Silas had to have told my father where I am by now. He’ll come for me himself.” The thought is terrifying.

  “He can try. Doesn’t mean it will happen.”

  “Of course, it will. Easton Erickson always gets what he wants.”

  “Did you just say Easton Erickson? The real estate mogul?”

  I nod. Eyes screwed shut. “The one and only.”

  “I didn’t realize he had a daughter.”

  “No one knows. He kept me hidden most of my life. I was homeschooled in his penthouse and raised by butlers and nannies. He never took much notice of me until I could give him something he wanted.”

  “Well, he can want you”—Jett tilts my face up—“but he sure as hell ain’t gonna get you.”

  “You don’t know what he’s capable of.” I shake fearfully in his arms.

  “You don’t know what I’m capable of.” He presses a firm, possessive kiss on my lips. “I told you, I can be ruthless if I need to be.”

  I don’t want Jett to be ruthless. I don’t want to be exposed to any more violence. I want the storm to
pass. I want calm waters and blue skies. I want peace.

  All I want is peace.

  “We’re going to end this, London.” He pinches my chin, securing my mouth an inch away from his. “Tonight.”

  OF ALL THE NIGHTS FOR London’s demons to rear their ugly head.

  As if I didn’t have enough on my plate with a sadistic drug runner staying under my roof, a captive girl stashed away in my dungeon, and a house full of unsuspecting clients, I now have to deal with Daddy Dearest.

  London and I backtrack through the house with her shaking like a leaf the whole time.

  I find a very agitated Kayne and a counseling Alistair tucked in a corner right outside the kitchen.

  Before Kayne even has a chance to rip me a new one, I cut him off. “We have a situation.”

  “No shit, Sherlock! Your little pet here just caused a scene, and now there are two very pissed-off men stashed in my office demanding to see her.”

  “Two?” London nearly jumps out of her skin. I tug her close. “He’s here,” she whispers petrified.

  I squeeze her hand.

  First things first. “Where is Javier?”

  “Occupied. Upstairs with Spice,” Alistair informs me. I suppress my wince. It was inevitable. But just the thought of him being with one of my girls ties my stomach in knots.

  “Is the other situation still under control?” I ask Kayne cryptically.

  He nods stoically.

  “Good. Alistair, stay in the party room and keep up appearances. It’s just another typical night. Got it?”

  “Of course.” My uncle always has my back.

  “Kayne, come with me. I think I’m going to need some extra muscle.”

  The four of us separate, each going our designated ways.

  “Are you going to clue me in to what’s going on?” Kayne stalks beside me.

  “Yes.” I stop in front a large antique vase displayed on a shelf in the hallway leading to Kayne’s office. I reach in and retrieve two sheathed hunting knives. One I hand to Kayne, the other I stash on London.

  “You stay right behind me, understand?” I slip the blade into her leather corset, right between her breasts. Her eyes are as wide as satellites as she watches me.

  “You keep weapons in your antiques?” she asks dryly.

  “Yes.” I look directly at her face. There is so much she doesn’t know about me. About this house. One day I hope to tell her everything, but tonight my secrets will stay buried within these walls.

  “I am going to try and bargain for you. A smart businessman never walks away from a lucrative deal. But if it doesn’t work, I’m willing to turn to violence.” I lean in so only she can hear. “For you, I will kill.”

  London stands petrified before me. I don’t know how that statement affected her, but I hope she understands its depths. I hope she understands how much I fucking care. About her. About us. About what we could potentially have. How I will do anything to keep her by my side. “If I go like this behind my back,” I curl my finger in a give me motion, “hand me the knife. Don’t hesitate. Understand?”

  She nods vacantly.

  “Say it. Say you understand.”

  “I understand.” Her voice is hoarse.

  “Good.” I glance at Kayne, and he thrusts his chin in agreement. In acceptance. As a brother in arms. Alistair may be related to me by blood, but Kayne is related by loyalty.

  Behind Kayne’s massive mahogany office door are two men, both immaculately dressed, and both with cold, calculating eyes. I survey them one at a time, pegging London’s father immediately. He has her dark blue eyes and straight thin nose. He’s much smaller in person, though. Five-seven at best. I’ve seen images of him on TV, and his real life persona does not live up. His egotism must make up for all the things he’s lacking.

  When Kayne strides by Easton, he makes him look like a dwarf, which I find highly satisfying.

  The other man I assume is Silas. He’s older as well, with thin, oily hair, a crater face, and a wannabe gangster pinstripe suit.

  The thought of him ever having his greasy hands on London disgusts me.

  “I see you found my property.” Easton gets right down to it.

  “Let’s get one thing straight. She’s no one’s property,” I correct him condescendingly.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, son. I’ve owned her since the day she was born. And her little disappearing act cost me a shitload of money.” He stares London down.

  “How much?” I question haughtily. “Let’s even it up right now. I’ll write you a check, and you can go on your merry way.”

  Easton laughs obnoxiously.

  “I’m sure she was profitable for your little business, but that workhorse has a lot of good years left. I’m not selling.” He takes a step forward, and the tension skyrockets in the room. “Let me make this real clear,” Easton addresses me coolly. “I’m leaving, with her, tonight. No discussions. No negotiations.” Napoleon’s got some balls. “Now, either we can do this the easy way, and you hand her over, or the bloody way, and I can just take her. Either or, I’m collecting what’s mine.”

  I guard London as Easton dishes out his ultimatums. It all sounds like blah blah-blah blah blah blah-blah blah to me.

  He can threaten all he likes. Pull a gun, throw a knife. Bottom line, the only way he’s leaving here with London is if he’s in a body bag. Which is somewhere I am more than happy to put him.

  “I’m not yours,” London suddenly growls.

  There’s no time for a response after that because all hell suddenly breaks loose. London pounces out from behind me and nails Easton right in the chest with the knife I gave her.

  “I’m not yours!” she shrieks insanely as she plunges the blade all the way into his heart. At the same erupting moment, Kayne mows down Silas, stabbing him in the neck a split second before he pulls out his gun. Blood spurts out everywhere from the rip in his jugular vein as Kayne viciously slits his throat open. I’m trapped in a momentary time lapse, torn between which direction I should go.

  “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” London’s distraught screams yank me to her. “I’m not yours!” She stabs him over and over again. “I’m not fucking yours!” Blood is smeared all over her fists and splattered across her face and chest. I attempt to pull her away, but her adrenaline is pumping too hard. She’s imprisoned in the moment.

  “Die!” She stabs him one last time and literally twists the knife. Then she collapses, a dazed look in her distraught eyes.

  Kayne and I share the same dumbstruck expression as I attempt to pull her into my arms.

  “It’s okay, baby. It’s all okay.” London comes to me slowly, warily. Like she doesn’t know who I am. Like she doesn’t even know who she is.

  She’s in shock.

  Once she’s sure she’s secure in my embrace, she nuzzles her head against my chest and lets it all go. She sobs so hard she shakes us both. Loud, anguished, afflicted sounds tearing from her throat. Never have I sensed so much pain. It’s so powerful I can almost carry it with me. I would gladly take it all if it meant she would finally be free.

  “Shhh.” I rock her until she’s calm. Until the agonizing moans stop and she becomes a zombie in my arms.

  I look up at Kayne who’s standing over two dead, bloody bodies, heaving like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. The wood floor flooding with red the longer the two corpses lay there.

  “We need a cleanup in aisle three,” he says wryly.

  Ya think? I fixate my attention on one of the hidden cameras in the corner of the office. I know Juice just saw everything and is cursing his head off right now. So much for no more messes. Oops.

  We have a protocol for situations like these, which we’ve never had to deploy until now.

  “Text Alistair. Get him in here,” I order Kayne with a paralyzed London still in my grasp.

  I don’t think more than fifteen heartbeats pass before Alistair slips into the room. His facial expression say
s it all. “Holy fuck.”

  “I need you to take her,” I bark at him. “Take her out to the pool house and wait for me. Use one of the back entrances so no one sees.”

  Alistair hesitates for a second before prying London out of my arms.

  “Jesus Christ, did she kill someone?” He notes the blood all over her face and body.

  “Do you really want to know the answer to that?” I challenge.

  His skin pales as he makes his conclusion.

  Trust me, no one is more shocked by her actions than I am. My sexy, fierce little bird is a badass.

  Mansion is full of service entrances and old staff corridors, so sneaking around can be easy as long as you know the ins and outs. It’s part of the reason Kayne and I chose this place. Plenty of escape routes, if needed. And tonight, it’s paying off tenfold.

  Alistair guides London out of the alternate entrance of the office, leaving me with minimal time to handle what I need to.

  “Are you good waiting for the crew?” I ask Kayne.

  “I’m good. Just bring me a change of clothes.”

  I nod. Fresh clothing is number one on my list for everyone. Time is of the essence. I need Alistair back monitoring the party room before anything else goes wrong.

  I disappear up a back staircase and race around my room grabbing T-shirts and shorts for both London and me. Kayne is way too large to fit into anything of mine, so I grab clothes for him and Alistair out of his closet. Hopefully, no one will notice their wardrobe change.

  Right before I vanish back down the stairwell, I hear a scream. And not a pleasurable one. My stomach drops. I know where it’s coming from. Javier’s room. And I know what he’s doing. Abusing the shit out of Spice. If it was any other night and he was any other man, I would kick the door down and toss his ass out of my house. But I can’t. Because this isn’t just any other night and he isn’t just any other man. He’s a devil with an open invite to stay.

  I swallow my searing anger as I’m shrouded in darkness. I’ll tend to Spice tomorrow. Tonight, London is my sole focus.

  I toss Kayne’s clothes on his desk and send him to wash off in the en-suite bathroom attached to the gargantuan office. He emerges from the bathroom in just his underwear, the soiled clothes crumpled in the garbage can. I strip down in the bathroom as well, washing Easton’s dried blood from my hands, neck, and chin. Quickly, I dress in the fresh shirt and gym shorts, tossing the bloody evidence in the full trash can.