The sudden surge of anger surprised her. But Moira latched onto it and shoved the door open.
Inside was a disaster.
A charred, black lump sat where her couch used to be. Apparently that had been the focal point of Justin’s rampage. The wood laminate buckled in places, and the white plaster and red brick walls were coated in varying levels of black. Her TV was smashed and half-melted, the cabinetry broken. Moira swallowed a sob and pushed forward into the bedroom. Justin had lit a second, smaller fire in there. Her bed was ruined, her side table smashed. The closet stood barren, except for a few black streaks.
In all, the damage was minimal, at least comparatively. But it broke Moira’s heart to see it. She bent to pick up a broken picture frame as she came back into the living room. A picture of her and Kara her first week in New Orleans. The glass was shattered, the picture inside half-melted from the heat and warped from the sprinklers.
“I hate this. I hate that he did this to you.” Anger dripped from Kara’s voice.
“Me too.” Moira set the broken frame on the bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. There wasn’t really any other place to put it. The kitchen, at least, seemed mostly unscathed. A small, sad laugh escaped her. “I wonder if there’s still ice cream in the freezer.”
She stepped forward past the bar.
“Moira!”
She didn’t register Kara’s warning until it was too late. Her hand closed on the freezer door the same time the knife pressed against her throat.
“You fucking bitch. I knew you’d come back.” Justin’s hot breath spilled across the back of her neck, making her shiver.
Inside her head, Moira screamed, fighting a battle for dominance over the panic. Outside, she was frozen, unable to move, unable to do anything as the reality of Justin’s presence stole the will from her body.
“Let her go, Justin!”
He snarled. “Shut up, bitch. I’ll deal with you in a minute. Right now, I need to have a little chat with my fiancée.”
“She’s not your fiancée, you sick bastard.”
“She’s mine!” Fury poured from him. “She’s always been mine! Ungrateful bitch. All the things I did for you!” He forced Moira forward, still holding her tight against him. “I’ll kill you, slowly, like I promised. And then I’ll have some fun with your friend.”
Something snapped in Moira’s brain. Tamara’s words came back to her, blazing through the panic. Kara needs a Domme strong enough to fight for her.
“Like hell you will.” Moira’s head snapped back into Justin’s nose as all the self-defense classes Kara had forced on her came storming back. She pried at his thumb, pulling the knife away from her throat until it clattered to the floor, and then she smashed his instep and rolled him over her shoulder.
Her victory was short-lived. Justin screamed in rage, catching her foot as she ran. She slammed to the ground, the air forced out of her lungs from the impact.
“You won’t get away this time, you fucking slut! You’re mine!”
“Suck on this, asshole.”
Moira flipped over in time to see Kara wielding the baseball bat she kept in the broom closet. Justin howled as she hit him. Moira scrambled away as he let go of her legs. Grabbing the bat with both hands, he ripped it from Kara’s grip. He swung, and Kara fell to the floor.
“No!” The word was ripped from Moira’s lungs. She clawed her way up, but Justin was on her again before she could get to Kara.
He pushed her back down, straddling her on his knees, with the bat against her throat. Black spots danced across her vision as she tried to push the bat away. Justin’s face leered at her, the insanity plain in his eyes. Her detached brain wondered how she’d ever thought she loved him.
“We never got to finish our game, Moira. They came, and they took you away. We were supposed to be together forever, and they took you away!”
Justin’s weight shifted just enough for her to turn her head, sucking in the smallest bit of breath. Kara lay barely in her view, unmoving, and Moira whimpered.
“No!” The pressure of the bat was suddenly gone from her throat, and Moira gasped in a breath a moment before Justin’s hand crashed into her face. “You are mine. You look at me, not her!”
He rolled to his feet, dragging her with him, only to throw her against the refrigerator. Her head slammed against the appliance, leaving her dizzy and too slow to react when he grabbed her again, pinning her hands behind her back.
“I know how she looks at you, that bitch. How she’s always looked at you. She wants you, wants what’s mine. She always tried to take you away from me. But I know what you need.” He pressed against her, his head in the crook between her head and shoulders where she couldn’t head-butt him again. “You need a real man. You need me. You need what I can give you.”
The sound of his fly unzipping was as loud as a freight train in her ears.
God, not again.
She was pinned, Kara was unconscious on the floor…
Fight, damn you.
“Justin, please.” She wanted to spit his name, wanted to scrape the taste of it from her tongue. “Please, baby.” The words made her sick.
“Please, what? You want this, don’t you?” His hips rolled into her and she had to fight the wave of nausea that threatened.
“Let me see you.”
She could almost hear his lewd grin. “You always did like to watch, you little slut.” He flipped her around, slamming her head into the fridge again, and pinning her by the throat. “Maybe you want to watch while I take care of your friend.”
Moira’s fear vanished in a surge of rage. “Fuck you.” She slammed her knee into his balls.
He yelped in surprise and fell over, hands clutching his crotch as his face turned red. “Bitch!” Moira scrambled for the bat, swinging it at him with all the force she could, and then ran to Kara. Kara groaned and sat up, blood trickling from a cut on her cheekbone.
A sob escaped Moira. “Oh God, you’re okay.”
Kara’s eyes went wide. “Moira, watch out!”
Moira reached for the bat she’d dropped while Justin screamed. She pushed Kara back and swung, but Justin’s meaty hand grabbed the metal tip and wrenched the weapon away from her.
“You. You poisoned her against me!” He reached for Moira, who fought back, scratching at his arms and face. “For that, you’re going to watch me take care of her. I’m going to fuck her like a man before I kill her, and then I’m going to do the same to you.”
Moira screamed, full of anger and hate for this bastard who’d taken everything from her. He would not take Kara. She kicked at the side of his knee hard enough to set him off balance, then jabbed her flattened hand, knuckles curled, into his throat.
He choked, but didn’t release his grip on her arm. At least, not until another body went flying into him.
She fell to the floor, seconds before a loud, thudding crash. And then Kara was there, clinging to her.
Moira held Kara tight, reassuring herself. Behind them, the scuffling sounds continued, and she forced herself to slowly pull away and look across the room.
Landry stood beside the burnt out couch with a scowl on his face, holding Justin tight in a chokehold, while two other men held him steady and injected him with something. A moment later, Justin’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he fell to the floor with a thud as Landry let him go.
“Oops.” Moira raised an eyebrow, and Landry winked before walking over to help both of them up. “You ladies all right?”
“Is he dead?”
“No, ma’am. Only knocked out.”
Moira stared at him and felt her anger surge again. “Part of me wishes he was.”
Kara snorted. “All of me wishes he was.”
Moira pulled her into a hug, and they stood like that for a few minutes. When they broke apart, Devon was there, and one of the other men was on the phone.
“Yeah, we got him. They fine. Sho. We take the big man too, a’ight?” H
e looked up finally once he ended the call and turned to Landry. “Boudreaux, you take th’ ladies back i’ th’ car. Big man, you heppin’ us wit him.” He tipped his bowler hat at them, and before Moira could decipher his backwoods Louisiana drawl, they’d bundled Justin up and were gone.
Moira turned to Landry, who wore a bit of a smirk. “What just happened?”
“Trust me, Miss Moira, you don’t wanna know.” The smile faded quickly, though. “I only wish we’d come in sooner. It took us too long to figure out he was already here.”
Moira shook her head and sighed. “You stopped him. That’s all that matters.”
Kara squeezed her hand. “We stopped him.”
Moira shook her head, too emotionally drained to argue words. “Let’s go home.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Moira stared at the moonlight streaming in through the window, turning Kara’s skin to a soft silver. The cut on Kara’s cheek had closed to a fine line, though the skin around it was deep purple. She’d been lucky that the blow Justin dealt her was glancing—he could easily have shattered her cheekbone with the bat.
He could’ve done so much more. So much worse.
Adrian and Gideon both had assured her that the bastard would never bother her again, and in the daylight, she believed it. But the darkness of night was another story, and she found him once again haunting her dreams. The heat of his breath, the pressure of his hands, the sting of his fists…it was all there, waiting, the moment she closed her eyes.
She hadn’t slept in three nights.
The first night, she’d woken screaming. Kara had held her until she’d calmed, but Moira had remained awake. The next night was more of the same. Tonight, she’d managed not to wake Kara, but a quick glance at the clock told her it was after three, and nightmare-free sleep continued to elude her.
It was just as well Adrian had insisted she call the school. A long-term sub had been arranged, and she was officially free until after Mardi Gras. Free from work, at least. But despite assurances that her tormentor was definitely gone, despite her own suspicions of what that really meant, her mind refused to let go.
All the healing she’d worked so hard for was gone, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever get it back again. Which meant there was a good chance she’d lose Kara for good this time.
Somewhere on the street below, a lone trumpet wailed a bluesy tune to the moon. Sitting in the window, Moira laid her head on her knees, and wept.
“Moira.”
She looked up, blinking. Kara stared back, her face a mask of concern. Moira reached out and ran a finger against her cut cheek, frowning.
“Honey, you’ve hardly left the room in days.”
Moira’s hand dropped, and she looked away. “Sorry.”
Kara’s hand found hers, and the simple, warm touch was like air. “I’m not mad. I’m worried. Why don’t you get cleaned up, and we’ll go out?” Moira stiffened, and Kara rushed to reassure her. “We don’t have to do anything. We could go to dinner.”
The idea of going out and facing the increasingly wild Mardi Gras crowds sent her heart racing. Moira closed her eyes and took a slow breath. This was Kara. Dinner would be good. Nothing would happen.
Justin couldn’t hurt her.
“I know you’re scared.” Kara’s quiet voice broke through her thoughts. “I know you probably feel like you’re back to square one. I’m jumping at shadows, too.”
Moira frowned at that. Kara having a taste of her fear was the last thing she ever wanted.
“But I miss you.”
I miss you. Moira missed herself. She remembered this feeling from the first time, the empty shell that nothing seemed to penetrate. Coping mechanism. Avoidance. Her mind catalogued it all in terms she’d heard in years of therapy. I don’t want to go back to this.
She took a slow, shaky breath, and looked up at Kara, whose green eyes held a forlorn kind of hope. “Yeah. Why don’t…why don’t you pick out something for me to wear while I shower?” It felt like the most words she’d spoken in days. Like her throat had grown used to not talking. Moira reached up a hand to rub her neck, and instantly remembered the bruising. She hesitated. “Maybe…maybe something with a high neck?”
Kara squeezed her hand. “I’ll find something. Go enjoy the hot water. Take your time.”
Moira wandered into the bathroom, instinctively shying away from the mirror. Much as she tried to avoid it, though, her eye caught on a bruise as she pulled her shirt over her head, and that was it. She’d looked, and now she couldn’t not see.
Purple lines across her neck. A handprint on her arm. Bruised cheek, partial black eye. Dozens of smaller bruises she hadn’t even noticed. Moira stared at the damage he’d done to her body, and couldn’t look away.
A knock on the door startled her. “Moira, hon? Are you okay?”
Kara opened the door without waiting for an answer, and Moira turned to her with tears she hadn’t realized she’d been crying streaming down her face.
“Oh, hon…” Kara’s fingers reached out to trace her bruises.
Moira shook her head, not sure if she wanted to crawl into Kara’s arms, or push her away. “I tried not to look.”
Kara’s hand cupped her jaw. “No. You look. You earned these bruises, because you fought. You won. You beat that bastard, and he can’t ever hurt you again.”
Moira gave her a watery smile, not completely convinced. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.” She took a shuddery breath. “I don’t know if I’m up for going out. Can we… Is take-out all right? And maybe a movie?”
Kara smiled softly. “In Adrian’s private theatre? Yeah. We can do that. And maybe we can go out for coffee in the morning?”
She didn’t add when it’s light, and there are fewer crowds, but Moira still heard it, and was grateful. “I’d like that.”
Kara hugged her tight. “Okay.”
By the end of the week, Moira was feeling more like herself. With Kara’s gentle pushing, the traumatic fog slowly parted, but the confidence she’d felt in the weeks leading up to Justin’s return continued to lie just out of her reach. So it came as no shock that she found herself standing inside the blue room, the playroom she had most often used.
“Mon ange?”
Adrian’s voice made her turn, but only enough to acknowledge his presence. “How do I get it back?”
Adrian’s sigh was heavy. “You haven’t lost it.”
Moira shook her head. He didn’t understand. “Yes, I did. He took it from me. Again. And I can’t…I can’t…” Her hands clenched against the table where her toys lay. “I want it back, Adrian.”
“Then take it, mon ange. You know how.”
They stood in silence for along moment, before Moira spoke again. “I’m terrified I’m going to lose her.”
“Have you had the vay-yay with her?”
“No.” Moira sighed. “I have nothing to offer her right now.” She turned to face him, finally. “Help me.”
Adrian’s answer came not in the form of words, but in the form of a crop with a familiar blue handle. “Take it.”
Moira stared at it, and finally, slowly, reached out to take it.
Adrian smiled. “Bon. Command me, Maîtresse.”
Moira’s grip tightened, and slowly, she gave him a determined smile.
Moira paced outside Adrian’s office door. A week of relearning to be a Domme had worked wonders, but she still worried about Kara. She’d put up with so much, yet Moira couldn’t bring herself to let the woman go. Even if some days she was convinced it was the best thing for her.
Kara needs a Domme strong enough, willing enough to fight for her.
Tamara’s words haunted her, teased her with uncertainty. Willing wasn’t an issue—she wasn’t at all sure she was strong enough, though.
But God, I want to be.
So she stood there, pacing, waiting for Adrian. She needed… She didn’t really know what she needed. She needed Kara, and she needed to be brave.
<
br /> Kara’s voice carried through the door, and Moira froze.
“It’s what I want, Adrian. I never ask for anything, but I’m asking for this.”
What? Moira’s curiosity won out over the closed door. She rapped quickly and pushed it open, not waiting for permission. Adrian looked up as she entered, seemingly unsurprised. Kara sat on the couch in front of him, head down and hands in her lap. Tamara leaned against the far wall, looking like the cat that ate the canary.
“Ah, mon ange. I was hoping you’d join us.”
Moira shut the door behind her and perched on the end of the couch. “What’s going on?”
“Our Kara has made a request. Not an unusual one, but one I found slightly unexpected.” Adrian looked from Moira to Tamara and back. “I’ll admit, I’m intrigued by the idea. Ma chère Kara, are you certain this is what you want?”
Kara nodded, but didn’t look up.
A sudden sense of dread slithered through Moira. Fuck. I’m too late.
“Kara’s asked for a challenge, Moira.” Tamara pushed off the wall and sauntered over to the other end of the couch. “Between us.”
Moira looked around, confused. “A challenge? What exactly are we talking about here?”
“A domination challenge, mon ange. Used when a sub can’t decide whom they wish to be collared by. You would both top Kara in a variety of scenarios. Myself and a few others would judge. Our decision would be final.”
Moira stared at them. “You’d decide who collars Kara?”
Adrian’s gaze was steady. “Oui and non. She would have input, both voluntary and not,” he added with a smile. “But ultimately, the decision is hers.”
Moira’s heart skipped. She hesitated and looked back at Kara. She could feel Adrian and Tamara watching her, waiting to see what she had to say, but Kara was really all that mattered. “You asked for this, Kara?”
She nodded, still refusing to look up.
“Kara…”
Fleur de Nuit: Bourbon Street Bondage, Book 1 Page 24
