It took a while to connect. The ringing sent spasms of pain through my head. I stabbed a finger at my reflection. “This has to fucking work, so don’t screw it up.” The mirror stole my threat, echoing back the image of a lunatic. Doubt reared its unwanted head. My eyes looked almost soulless; my five o’ clock shadow unkempt. The tiny scars on my cheeks, brow, and nose glistened like tiny crescent moons.
Goddammit, pick up the fucking phone.
The number rang and rang.
“Bonjour?” a sleepy female voice came down the line.
About time.
“Suzette. You’re going to do something for me.”
Shuffling, followed by a yawn. “You need something at two in the morning, and you’re not even here?” Her tone mixed with annoyance and obedience. “Did you forget something?”
Before Tess came into my life Suzette was the only female I let get close. We’d never been more than saver and slave, then employee and employer, but our connection had grown to friendship. She pushed me even when it was dangerous to do so. She saw the real me—the one I never acknowledged—and encouraged me regardless.
When Tess arrived it was Suzette who gave me permission to be a bastard. What were her words? Be like them for a while, because even on your worst days, you don’t rival what they did to me.
I’d never asked her what she’d lived through; I didn’t need to. She told me in her own way—in the panic attacks and sudden terror of my temper. But beneath the small fractures, she was strong.
“I need you to arrange a wedding.”
Suzette giggled. “I thought you eloped so you didn’t have to do any of that?”
I imagined her rolling her eyes as if I was some stupid child who’d forgotten his lunch for the day. She’d taken the role of caring for me a bit too well.
“That was the original plan. Oui.”
Another laugh. “But now you’ve changed your mind and want an over-the-top, completely impractical wedding?” A pause. “Did Tess refuse your crazy idea of marrying in the middle of nowhere?”
I snorted. “No. She didn’t refuse.” Even after everything I’d done today she still wanted me. The knowledge would never fail to rip the breath right from my lungs.
“It’s hardly a dream location for a girl. She deserves more than a pelican for a witness.”
“Suzette,” I growled. “Instead of undermining me, how about you agree to fucking help.”
My mind raced, forming the crazy idea faster and faster. Tess would have every reason to kill me. She would probably try.
I ran a hand down my face, shaking my head. God—this was fucking dangerous.
“So—why do you need my help?” Suzette prompted.
My mind switched from what I was about to do to the wedding. I didn’t want big—hell, I didn’t want anything more than someone joining Tess’s life to mine—but Tess had said she wanted Suzette there.
She wanted Brax, too.
No fucking way was that little cunt going to be at my wedding. There was only so much I would tolerate.
I paced over the tiles, gripping my chin in thought. The original plan was still my favourite—but I wanted to give Tess the world. And I would.
“You’re going to arrange our wedding.”
“What?” Something banged in the background; Suzette yelped.
My heart exploded. Intruders. Fucking traffickers.
“Suzette!”
Suzette made a sucking noise. “Sorry. It’s dark. I ran into the door. Bashed my fingers.”
“Goddammit…” I breathed out heavily. Franco left a decent team of security in Blois but who knew what the underworld morons would do to get to me. I didn’t want any more blood from people I cared about.
My patience was wearing thin. I wanted them to make a move now, so I didn’t have to sit in the shadows and wait.
Pushing the urge for a fight out of my head, I demanded, “Pay attention. Did you hear me? You’re in charge of the wedding.”
A postponement really pissed me off. I still suffered the overwhelming need to make Tess mine in every way possible—to both man and beast—but this new plan…this plan that could royally fucking backfire in my face…it might be everything we needed.
To pull it off I had to embrace a little of what I always ran from. To make it work I had to make Tess believe.
“Yes, I heard you. You’re coming home while I arrange it, right? I need time.”
“No, we’re not coming home. I expect you do it quickly.” How long did it take to arrange a simple ceremony?
“I can’t do it quickly. If you want to give Tess the dream, I need at least a month.”
“No, fucking way. You have five days, Suzette.” My heart galloped, fixated on the idea growing rapidly out of control. Every second sent me hurtling into the unknown. “You have five days to arrange a suitable wedding. Invite who you think should be there. You’re in charge.”
A surprised squeak hurt my ear. “Five days? No, there’s no way—”
“No arguing. Do it.”
I made eye contact with myself in the mirror. Do you seriously think you can pull this off?
That was the kicker. I didn’t know. If I was honest I was fucking terrified. But I had no choice. Tess couldn’t go on like this. I couldn’t go on like this.
The only way forward was to go back.
Back to restart time.
Suzette grumbled, “Why do I get the feeling you’re up to something again.”
Because I am. Something that could mentally screw us up completely.
Suzette sucked in a breath. “Please tell me you’re not doing something crazy. Like releasing all your birds or letting Tess butcher you?”
My jaw locked. “You’re not to mention either of those two things. Ever. Again. Am I understood?” I shuddered involuntarily. I hated that Franco and Suzette saw me so weak. For a while, I worried I’d have to fire them, so I never had to look into their eyes and remember.
But they didn’t watch me with pity like I expected. If anything their loyalty and respect increased.
A soft sigh echoed down the line. “I’m sorry. Just—”
“I’m going. Five days, Suzette.”
“But! But, I have so many questions. Where do you want it? How many guests? What sort of vows?”
“That’s for you to figure out—”
“Wait! Whatever you’re doing, Q…just remember a person can only take so much before it’s all over.”
What the fuck?
I reared back, glaring at the phone as if it had somehow transmitted my idea down the line and into Suzette’s thoughts.
Suzette was intuitive. Just like Tess.
I looked over my shoulder to the bathroom door. Fuck, if I was so obvious, what if Tess sensed what I was about to do? What if she’d run again?
Urgency and fear hijacked my legs. I stalked to the door, wrenching it open to glare into the bedroom. Tess hadn’t moved, bundled tightly in the sheets.
I’m coming for you.
My headache raged with the finality of my decision.
I was done with the phone call. Every passing second was a second I could never get back. “Get it done, Suzette.” I hung up. Shoving the phone into my pocket, I sucked in a ragged breath.
This was it.
No turning back.
The moment I started this, I had to keep going. Regardless if Tess swore, cursed, or wanted me to die. She might absolutely despise me afterward—but that was a risk I would take. For her. I would willingly wear her hatred if it meant I cured her.
Turning on the tap, I splashed my face with cold water, glaring at my reflection. Man the fuck up and do it.
Pacing to the door, I tore it open. My hands opened and closed as adrenaline filtered through my limbs.
Tess didn’t wake, comatose with the devils inside her. If I had my way it would be the last nightmare she ever had. Tonight I would enter her thoughts and slaughter every last fucking one.
Prowling thro
ugh the darkness, I found the wardrobe and wrenched it open. A small light came on, highlighting a multitude of dressing gowns. Towel, fleece, silk, and cotton.
Ripping out a silk sash, I ran the material through my fingertips. It was soft, cool, and black. Perfect.
Grabbing another belt from a cotton dressing gown, I yanked it to see if it stretched. Just a little give. Good to know.
With the belts clutched in my hands, I faced the bed.
Tess whimpered, her hands bunching the sheets. From here, her face was flushed, not deathly white. She was close to waking.
I moved forward, glad of the dark. It was my friend, my ally. The accomplice in what I was about to do.
The bed hit my knees. I climbed onto the mattress, crawling forward till I positioned myself hovering over Tess. My fists indented the bed either side of her head as she slept.
I allowed myself a moment to drink her in. To trace the almost disappeared bruises on her arms. To grow hard staring at her perfect figure. But it was the brand on her neck that enraptured me.
The angry burn settled the growling monster inside. She would never be able to remove the scar. She’d announced permanently she would never leave me. No matter what I did to her.
My heart lurched, willingly allowing a small flavour of anger and darkness to settle.
Tonight was the last night she would suffer. Tonight, I would kill the past and invoke a new future.
By doing to her what the other cocksuckers had done before.
I’d broken the hold of her rape by giving her a new memory. I took her in the shower—replacing Lefebvre with me—turning horror into something more liveable.
I didn’t think it would work. It was a stupid, stupid thing to do.
But it did work. And I had to believe it would again.
I was about to make Tess relive everything.
I was about to stamp out the past and replace each incident with a new memory.
I was about to kidnap my fiancée.
Chapter Five
Tess
Bind our twisted perversions, love me dark, leave your mark. love my faults and imperfections
My night and day, my moon and sun, your light turns my black to glittering grey
“Do it, puta!”
I’d held off as long as I could. I’d fought and raged and been beaten for my troubles. But I couldn’t disobey any longer.
I pulled the trigger.
The bullet lodged inside Blonde Angel’s forehead.
With a whoosh of black swirls and icy wind, the dream unlatched its claws from my subconscious. Winds buffeted as Leather Jacket and blood and dead women snuffed out. I sailed up, up, up through the grotesque memories and back to reality.
Only this time. I didn’t wake up to Q’s arms around me and his kisses in my hair.
I woke up to a fate worse than death.
My instincts understood before my mind, dousing me in howling fear.
It’s happening again.
It was dark. Quiet. Serene. A lie. The worst kind of lie.
I’m not safe!
Heavy masculine breathing brushed my face as two large hands exploded through the shadows—reaching for me, going for my eyes.
No!
In an awful second, time screeched to a halt and two things happened. Two major things that showed just how much I’d changed from when they’d taken me in Mexico.
The first was I shut down.
I switched off.
All the passion and rage and spirit when I fought Leather Jacket was replaced with cold calculating numbness. For a moment all I wanted to do was give up. To let my heart cease its ragged beat and let the inevitable happen. After all, fighting didn’t work.
How many times must fate slap the same lesson in my face before I understood giving up was my only option?
Darkness even worse than night stole my eyesight. Something cool and slightly slimy was pressed over my face. The brush of strong hands on my ears made my skin crawl—the pressure of the blindfold sent my heart into a fulcrum, spinning faster than anything before.
Give in. Just give in.
I sent the message to my muscles: relax. Time for evil to win. But something stopped me from being a victim. Something deep, too deep to switch off.
And that was the second thing. Smashing away the weakness of prey, filling me with fire. Energy I no longer knew swirled from nowhere, seesawing my emotions between complete submission and rage so brittle and blizzard-cold, I no longer knew myself.
Fight. Kill. Or die trying.
My instincts catalogued everything. My attackers position, his breathing, the pressure of the blindfold on my eyes. His knees were on either side of my waist, the only weight came from his hands on my temples, holding the blindfold in place. The mattress dipped as he shifted.
I stayed prone and frozen, even while I sparked and conducted a battle inside. A battle of acceptance or murder.
My hands curled, calling forth the reckless survival I’d always tapped into. Half of me lamented—give in! Fate would never let me be free—I would never deserve Q. I couldn’t afford to keep paying these unpayable tolls. But the other half couldn’t give up. It wasn’t in my genetic code to allow something so precious to be stolen.
A never ending second ticked past where my heart whizzed faster and faster until my chest bled with fear. Neither of us moved. No needle was shoved into my arm; no curse was sworn in my ear. It was as if he waited. Paused to see what I would do.
A test then?
A test to see if I’d finally become the perfect possession to be traded. Had White Man won after all? Had he broken me by letting me believe in the falsity of safety?
The epitome of brokenness was no longer caring. No longer functioning. No longer willing to exist.
Am I broken?
The blunt question sliced through my brain—taunting me with the weakness of the word.
The ultimate question was did I want to die?
I don’t want to die.
Did I want to live?
I don’t want to live like this anymore.
I grew hotter. Madder.
They’d taken everything. They’d taken too much. And yet they’d come back for more.
It isn’t fair.
I filled with resentment. Furiousness.
What are you going to do about it?
The confusion inside grew hot, evaporating to steam, billowing faster and faster with anger.
I won’t. I won’t be broken.
I was stronger. I was a fighter. I would die being true to myself.
I was livid. I was rabid. I went insane.
My mouth opened; I screamed, “Not this time, you fucking asshole.” The tense moment shattered, raining around us in shards as I switched.
The frozen victim became a crazed warrior. I wanted his blood.
The man grunted in shock; his hands grabbed chunks of my hair—keeping my head locked against the mattress.
The pain in my scalp was nothing. Did he think I cared about a little agony after everything I’d been through?
Jerking manically, I screamed again, tearing the follicles free from my scalp. The pain reminded me of something I’d forgotten. Something I should never have taken for granted.
I’m Tess Snow.
And I would survive or die. I was done just existing.
The grip on my hair fell away. Fumbling hands tried to tie the blindfold behind my head, but I would no longer make it easy for him.
My hands flew up, connecting with a bristle-covered jaw. The facial growth shot an image of Q into my head. Where was he?
My heart ruptured and tore and shattered into useless pieces. They’ve hurt him. They’d stolen him—that was why he wasn’t there to save me. The thought of never seeing Q again was the last of my undoing. I was free. Utterly free from everything but that moment.
“You hurt him!” My fingers curled, turning nails into weapons as I dragged them down his face. “I’ll make you pay.”
I didn’t know why he hesitated, but it would cost him. Never again would I let them take me. I either won this or I died. Two options and I didn’t really care which one.
The man’s legs stayed pinned on either side of me, squeezing, trying to keep me from wiggling free, but he didn’t have what I had: the clarity of destiny.
My mind turned blank. The fear of what had happened to Q disappeared. All I focused on was killing.
With curled hands, I struck anywhere I could. His chest, his thighs, his jaw. Each strike was met with an angry growl but no retaliation.
His hands tried to capture my wrists, but my anger made me a flailing mess to catch. The world spun and spun as I sucked in too much air.
White-noise crackled, roaring in my ears, deafening me to everything but my strumming heartbeat.
The sheets wrapped around my legs as I kicked and squirmed. His weight kept me trapped, so I did the only thing I could—I launched upright and head-butted him.
Stars.
Shooting stars. Comets. Fireworks.
Bright light replaced the darkness of my blindfold as our skulls clacked together.
The man groaned, cursing low. He rolled off me, dropping off the bed.
The instant I was free, I ripped the blindfold off. Not that it helped in the dark. Instead of running, I attacked.
Throwing myself onto the floor, I latched onto his back, punching everywhere I could. The pain in my knuckles was vengeance.
He reached behind, grabbing my naked flesh to toss me off him. The carpet cushioned my fall. I kicked hard as I could in his direction. My bare foot connected with something far more perfect than a knee or thigh. It hit his prized possession.
“Fuck!” he roared.
My body stuttered just for a moment. That voice. Then white-noise stole me again, keeping me focused on my task. I shook my head. I refused to listen. I wouldn’t listen. Not to lies or promises or even the voice of the man who I loved more than anything. It wasn’t his voice. It couldn’t be, and I refused to be side-tracked from murder.
Monsters in the Dark Page 81
