“No, no, no,” I scream, but the words won’t form right.
“Shut up!” A brutal fist slams my face into the table right before rough palms shove my legs wider apart. I will my unresponsive muscles to move. He’s too big. Too strong. The paralytic overrides my system, holding me prisoner.
“Sweet little cunt,” he hisses, shoving two fingers inside my untouched body.
Bile floods my esophagus. My back arches off the table as I dry heave and choke, but there is nothing in my stomach to come up.
Daddy, please. Come get me. Please!
In and out, the monster thrusts his fat fingers, killing my innocence. The sharp edges of his uneven nails scrape against my tender insides. The fresh gashes burn with each violation.
God . . . just . . . take me.
The sides of my mouth crack as I open it wide, screaming with no voice. The hiss of air and deep gasps as I try to breathe, try to yell, mix with the monster’s disgusting grunts.
The thick stench of alcohol invades my nose as he yanks his fingers out of my body and leans over me. Teeth break the sensitive skin under my right breast. Warm trails slither down the side of my chest when he lets go. He tries to shove something soft and round into my body.
With every limp thrust between my legs, he bites me in a different place.
A growl echoes against the walls of the claustrophobic shack. “Little bitch!” Over and over, he slaps my face, sometimes with a flat hand, other times with a closed fist.
With a scream of rage, he shoves my body toward one the side of the table.
With my good eye, I focus on the thin line of light coming from under the door. My chest heaves as sobs rack my body.
Make it stop.
A meaty fist smashes into the left side of my face this time, and something inside my head crushes. A metallic taste floods my mouth. Blood seeps down the side of my face as flashes of tiny lights strobe before me.
“Useless. Just like the others! Look at me! Open your filthy mouth!”
No!
A powerful hand clamps down on one side of my face, pushing it against the table. He wedges his fingers into my slippery cheek, forcing my mouth open. The monster shoves himself inside. I gag on the blood, on the slab of flesh pushing against my tongue.
Blood and saliva pour out of my mouth, pooling at my neck.
Mom. Daddy . . . I love you.
I bite down hard, but my teeth won’t meet.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” The crack of my cheekbone shatters through my head as it slams against the metal table. The monster lunges away.
Metal scraping against metal blares through the room.
Agony rips through my abdomen in wild, ragged bursts and I’m dimly aware of his hand slamming something cold and sharp into me. A searing pain explodes throughout and down my right thigh. I drop my hands over my stomach. Slippery. Wet. When I lift my left arm, the same hot vicious pain tears through the bottom of my wrist to my elbow.
The monster screams, louder and louder.
So cold. Freezing . . .
Please . . . God . . . I’m ready.
38
Jaxxon
“Motherfuck!”
I bolted up, not sure where the fuck I was, but blood dripped down my goddamned chin. Disoriented, I touched my split lip until a sickening wail pierced the silence.
I lunged over the side of the bed, thinking one of the dogs must have gotten hurt, but they were fine. So fine that Kyle jumped up on the bed and start barking his ass off.
The mattress jerked once, twice.
Valentina.
Jesus fucking Christ.
When I spun around toward her, my stomach seized and my adrenaline went light speed. On her knees, she jerked and contorted. She choked and gasped, hands around her throat, crying in an eerie, tortured voice I’d never have imagined could come from a human being. She rocked back and forth, head shaking so hard her hair flew around her in a violent fan.
I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up onto my lap. “Baby! Valentina, wake up!”
Kyle got right in her face, barking and nudging with his snout. I shook her gently, calling her name until she finally stopped shaking.
“No!” she screamed, jumping out of my arms to kneel on the bed, hunched over with her back to me.
The room was dark, but the three-wick candle on her dresser still burned, casting an unnerving red-orange glow over the bed. As she knelt, I could make out her hands grabbing at her stomach. They thrashed in an up and down flutter motion against her abdomen, like she was sopping up something that had spilled down the front of her. The back of her tank top jerked up, exposing her lower back to me. The torturous sound of her cries while gasping for air and slapping at her thighs, her stomach, her forearms, fractured my heart. I moved in behind her carefully, splitting my legs so she knelt between my thighs.
Kyle licked her face and continued nudging her until she stopped grabbing at herself. The bed dipped and Chris sat on the end, a low growl emanating from his chest.
“Sugar . . . ” I rested my hands on her shoulders.
A haunted cry cut through the quiet room and she jerked around to face me. “Jaxxon!” As soon as her eyes met mine, tears poured down her face and she collapsed into herself. “I’m . . . I’m—” She lifted her head and her eyes widened. Reaching out a hand, she touched a shaky finger to my lip. “You’re—you’re bleeding. Oh God, no!”
Her hands flew over her face and she shook her head back and forth so fast I worried she was gonna pull a fucking muscle. “No,” she sobbed. “No. I’m so—so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Shhh.” I reached for her, but she lurched away from me. “Baby, I’m good. It’s okay.”
“No,” she whispered. “It’s not—not okay . . . ”
“Valentina—”
“Chris! Hier! Come,” she managed to get out. She turned to me with tortured eyes, shattering into a million pieces right the fuck in front of me, and then she vaulted off the bed and half-ran, half-stumbled into the bathroom.
I bolted up after her, both dogs on my heels, and rushed in just as she fell to her knees in front of the toilet. I turned on the soft lights over the sink and went to her. Pulling her hair back, I held it until she finished puking between body-racking cries. I yanked the band out of my hair, gathered hers in a thick ponytail, and bound it up.
“Shhh, baby. Breathe for me. Atme.” I rubbed her back. The muscles jumped in time to the violent sobs consuming her small frame. “Come on, sugar. In and out.”
Nearly falling over, she leaned back against her cabinets. Grabbing a towel off the rack behind us, I ran it under warm water and sat down across from her against the wall. “Valentina, come here.” I leaned forward and grabbed her arms.
She staggered away from me. When she lifted her head, my stomach knotted tight at the dread all over her pale, damp face. “I am so sorry, Jaxxon,” she whispered. “Did I hurt you?”
“Fuck no. You could never hurt me. Come here.” I reached a hand out to her.
Her gaze fell to stare at it. “I—I hurt you while you were asleep.” Sobs fractured her voice once again. “It’s not okay, it’s not okay.” Tears poured down her blanched cheeks as she hugged her knees to her chest. “This isn’t going to be okay . . . ”
I didn’t do helpless, and I was close to losing my fucking shit. The woman did not cry and she was beyond wrecked. To see her this—broken down . . . I wanted to put my fucking fist through a goddamn wall. “I’m fine, baby, but you’re clearly not. Come here. Now.”
Releasing her knees, she put her tentative hands on the floor, steadying herself, before crawling over to me. When she came within arm’s distance, she lay down on the tile floor and put her head on my thigh, curling up in a fetal position.
“Yeah, sugar. Not happening. Too cold. Up here. I’ll keep you warm.” I wrapped my hands round her arms and pulled her up into my lap, handing her the wet towel.
Covering her mouth, she finally relaxed
into me. I sat on the floor, her shaking in my lap, and I held her until her breathing evened out. Chris sat beside me while Kyle lay on the floor, his head across her feet. Now I got why the dogs slept with her.
“How we doin’, liebste?” I mumbled into her hair, smoothing her bangs out of her face. It was German for “my love,” and I didn’t give a fuck if she knew that translation. What was going on right here . . . It was like a fist squeezing my bloody heart while still lodged in my chest.
She nodded against my neck.
I rested my cheek against her head. “Valentina . . . you’ve gotta tell me something, here.” I didn’t know how to help her, except to hold her, which wasn’t even close to good enough after what I’d just witnessed.
“How’s your lip?” She lifted her head with the towel over her mouth, then frowned and reached a finger up, running a soft finger over my bottom lip.
“I’ve had worse.” I framed the side of her face so she couldn’t turn away from me, running a thumb over her cheek.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she collapsed back into me.
“All right, baby, up. Let’s go. Do you need anything?”
“Brush my teeth,” she muttered and scooted off my lap. I stood up behind her, bent over, and lifted her under the arms until she was upright and steady. Slender but strong fingers dug into my biceps as she steadied herself. “I’m so sorry . . . thank you.”
“Jesus Christ, Valentina. Don’t thank me. I’m not gonna fucking break. If you believe nothing else, believe that.”
Running a hand over my cheek, she turned to the sink and brushed her teeth. She must have burned her damn mouth with the amount of time she held that Listerine. Leaning over the sink and spitting in the most elegant way after just puking her guts out, she finally wiped her mouth and turned to me.
When her swollen lips parted but no words came, I cut off whatever she struggled with and picked her up. Marching us back to her bed, I put her down, climbed in beside her, and turned her to me so we were face to face. I had questions. She may not want to answer them, but I was sure as fuck gonna push, because this—this shit was violent, malevolent, tormented shit.
Clasping her hands, she snuggled close to me and moved down so her head rested under my chin. After pulling the blankets around us, I wrapped my arms around her and held her as close as I could get her without cutting off her air supply. I pulled my hair band out of her hair and ran a hand through her long tresses—finally able to let out the breath I’d been holding for what felt like the past hour.
“Baby, does this happen all the time?”
“Not all the time,” she whispered. “Kyle wakes me when—when they come.”
“Is there a trigger?”
Pushing her cheek against my chest, she sighed. “They come when they want.”
The way her body tightened up, I knew she was keeping something from me. What I’d seen her go through had been vicious, so I didn’t want to push her now, but if we were going to work, I needed information. “Is there something I need to know? Was it because I was holding you?”
When she lifted her head, fresh tears slid down her cheeks, and she slapped them away hard as if disgusted. “No. This is my fault. I—I shouldn’t have asked you to stay. I’m so sorry.”
“Bullshit. I want to stay with you. It’s nothing I can’t handle. It’s you I’m concerned about. Whatever you’re not telling me, baby, please. Fucking trust me. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Please, Jaxxon.” Wrapping her arms around me, she tucked her head into me. “Please just hold me.”
“As long as you want.”
Subject closed. She didn’t trust me enough to talk about this yet, and yeah, that fuckin’ stung, but after tonight, she got a pass.
I rested my chin on top of her head and rubbed her back. “Shhh. Atme, baby. In and out. Nice and slow—good. Breathe.”
This was fucking bad, like fucked-up-beyond-all-recognition bad. Something unthinkable was torturing my woman, and I’d had a violent confirmation it was tied to those scars.
Not wanting to upset her further, I didn’t touch them now, but having felt them before, the placement of them, the jagged edges of the larger ones that left her infertile, the long one on her thigh, I now had a pretty clear idea about how they got there. They were too centered on her lower body. Marks like those spoke of an uncontrolled rage.
And the only thing running through my head was I hoped the motherfucker who put them there was dead and fucking rotting. Because if he still breathed the same air as she did, and if I found him, it was gonna be a hard, bloody, long-ass death, and one I’d enjoy delivering. Consequences be damned.
39
Jaxxon
I’d barely seen Valentina outside the gym the past two weeks and couldn’t stop thinking about her when she wasn’t in front of me. The night I’d spent with her had fucked me up. I worried about her all the goddamned time now. I’d underestimated the repercussions she talked about.
The night on her bathroom floor when I was holding her, I’d stroked the inside of her forearm, over the eum mori et resurgere tattoo covering the scar on her forearm. Die and Rise. The Latin saying had inspired her birthday gift, which now lay in a small black velvet box in a table drawer in my living room. I’d designed the piece to be a constant reminder of her strength. She was always so driven with everything outside of her, I think she tended to dismiss her own strength.
I hated she felt she needed to cover her tat. She should wear that fucker with pride. But that wasn’t my call. She had to get there on her own.
At work, in bed, the shower, even with the kids, anytime she wasn’t with me—I couldn’t stop seeing her vault out of that fucking bed. I’d never seen anyone so . . . tortured before.
She’d been a distant version of herself the few times I’d seen her since. Nothing had physically changed between us. We still couldn’t hold a conversation without ending up half-naked. It was afterwards when the changes hit me. She wouldn’t look at me. She’d wrap herself around me, grabbing my arms and pulling them around her, like some kind of security blanket.
Those badass dogs were the only reason I was okay leaving her at night and not calling her every fucking hour to make sure she was okay. If I’d thought Chris and Kyle were well-trained before, it was nothing compared to what I’d witnessed them do for her.
My life had changed since I met her. The truth was I liked being in a relationship. Then again, I craved everything about Valentina. I’d never met anyone like her. She was a paradox, an intoxicating mix of sensual, loving woman, and frightened, damaged innocent. Yet, she was iron to the core and intelligent as fuck. Whether she was aware of her own strength or not, I was, and I respected the hell out of her for it.
A soft knock on my front door cut off my inner bullshit. Some serious questions about her past sat there, unaddressed, between us. It was one barrier I needed to come down. Tonight was for her, though, so I’d keep my shit in check. Tonight . . .
Ari barked and bounded across the hardwood floor to the door, jumping up and clawing under the knob.
“Hey!” I yelled, jogging around the corner after him. He fell back, turning a wounded look my way. “Yeah, you know better, dude. Back up.”
When I opened the door, my mouth dropped open. Son of a bitch, she looked hot as fuck. She’d had a meeting with one of her junior editors this evening. Under a black jacket, she wore an olive green tunic with a plunging neckline. The gaping material hung below a lacy black bra kind of contraption. Skintight black pants hugged her muscular legs to the ankles, and she wore a pair of wicked black leather heels. A vision of her laid out on my kitchen table, legs over my shoulders in nothing but those fuck-me stilettos flashed before me. Birthday dinner be damned.
Pull your head out, dick.
“Damn, baby. How many dudes did you have to beat down tonight? You look hot as shit.” After taking her jacket, I grabbed her hands, held them out to her sides, and took my damn time admiring every smokin’ h
ot inch of her.
When I whistled, her cheeks flushed and she flashed a smile that liquefied my insides. “Please. They’re just clothes.”
I led her into the house by the hand and closed the door behind her.
“Ohh! Is this Ari?” She knelt down and my dog pretty much mauled her, which she made ten times worse by kissing his head and rubbing his sides. “Aren’t you a beautiful baby?” she cooed. With one hand on his head, she rubbed his back with the other. Over and over he licked her arm, trying to get to her face.
“Down, Ari.” I snapped my fingers at him and he sat down at her feet.
“He’s beautiful. I love Goldens. My cousin breeds them. They’re the most well-behaved dogs, and they’re brilliant with children.” With a final fluff of Ari’s head, she stood up on those killer heels, hands on her hips, and nodded up at me. “Great choice, Dad.”
I scoffed. “If Jessa had seen him maul you, she’d have my head. Next to your dogs, he’s a train wreck.”
“Ah, that’s not fair. Chris and Kyle are professionally trained. I mean, you’d never know it from the way they behave with you at times, but they are.” She leaned down face to face with Ari. “I think you’re perfect. Don’t let Dad give you a complex.”
“All right, all right, stop seducing my dog.” I reached out, wrapping my hand around her wrist and tugging her into me. “So hey, sugar. Happy birthday. You have a good day?”
She locked her arms around my waist and laid her head over my heart. I ran my hands through her soft hair. With an extended sigh, she lifted her eyes to mine. “Long. It’s better now. I didn’t want to be late, so came straight here. Sorry about the getup.”
“You serious? I’m tempted to skip to the end where you end up naked underneath me.”
A soft giggle vibrated through her chest and jumped to mine. “I end up there a lot.”
Phoenix (Flames & Ashes Book 1) Page 32
