Seize me From Darkness (Pierced Hearts Book 4)

by Cari Silverwood

  I wasn’t dying, not yet. Never give up. Never give in.

  We ended up playing fast, with water. Speedy noughts and crosses. I beat him more often than not. It made me grin, even laugh once when he slapped his forehead and flopped backward, groaning at his mistake.

  But I never forgot, even with him sprawled on the floor drawing X’s and O’s with his wet finger, like a small boy messing about with his sister. He wasn’t a small boy. He was a big, powerful man and a sadist, who liked hurting me when given the chance.

  There was blood between us. And sex.

  With him this close, I wasn’t sure which of the two bothered me the most.

  When I took a shower that night, I couldn’t tell if he looked away the whole time, and when he showered, I peeked. Impossible not to. My throat went dry for all the wrong reasons watching water pour down his hard body.

  Chapter 11

  Guess I’d gotten too used to a soft bed. The floor kept me awake. As it made various bits of me go numb, I’d shift and manage to numb somewhere new. At around three in the morning, I sat up. I ended up with my chin in hand, elbows on knees, studying her.

  I was sure she had no comprehension of how guilty I felt.

  For years, I’d lived with the mess I’d made of my life after my brother was killed. I’d thought I’d reined in the dark side of me. Ever since the murder, I’d run from one crazy thing to another, but I’d never abused a woman like this.

  How did I reconcile this with my soul? Yes, I’d been forced to do it. But...

  The room was rendered in dark sifted, tones of gray. Her toe twitched underneath the sheet and she mumbled something. Truly, she was sweet, and innocent, and I was the biggest, baddest wolf in creation.

  Excluding Gregor.

  I hung my head and grabbed the top of my head with my hands, staring down at the vaguely moonlit floor. If I’d been presented with a case like this in South Africa, I’d have been inclined to arrest myself and let the lawyers sort out who was guilty of what. Legally, I was probably clean, but morally I was fucked.

  I let go and stared at her again, at the curvaceous length of her body. The tropical heat made sleeping under a sheet impossible most nights. She was lying on her side. Even asleep, I’d heard her whimper if she shifted onto her back. That was my present to her. I lay down and closed my eyes.

  What was I going to do?

  Keep obeying Gregor, that’s what, because the alternative was worse and something I knew might be inevitable, considering where Gregor seemed to be heading. I might have to kill her – if she begged me. Fok. Not good. I wondered if she’d thought of it yet. Probably not. If she was like most people, she’d be subconsciously avoiding that thought pathway.

  Though at times, when unawares, I’d caught her staring at nothing, with a haunted look on her face.

  I hadn’t seen the police officer she said had been tortured, but I’d heard him. My instincts, along with what had happened so far, told me Gregor and his client weren’t going to be happy with simple beatings and sex. What if she never asked and it became too much even for me? Could I kill her?

  I put my hand across where my heart must be. It actually hurt contemplating doing that. Maybe there was hope for me yet. Of course, if I did it, they’d kill me afterward.

  The day’s activities ran through my head. Games. We’d played eye spy even, and managed to find things we hadn’t known were in the room. Like cracks in the wall. It had been ridiculous but fun. We’d both ended up laughing, for a while forgetting the circumstances of our imprisonment.

  Yet another side to this woman.

  I smiled in the dark. If the men I’d commanded had seen me doing that they would’ve poked fun. I recalled her hesitant giggle, the curve of her ear when she bent to stare at the cross I’d drawn with water, and the glimpse of what lay between her legs when she forgot to keep that skimpy dress pulled down and her thighs together. Not that I didn’t have that etched into my memory already.

  I glanced over. She’d wedged her arm under her pillow and was muttering into the pillow. I lifted my head to look at the quiet lines of her face. I doubted I could kill a woman. Not Jazmine. Already I knew her too well. She seemed so vulnerable in these empty hours of the night...and so passionate when she was tied up, whipped, and welted with my marks.

  Jesus. I’d done some of the nastiest, kinkiest things I’d done to anyone, ever, to her. My cock swelled at the thought.

  I sighed and rolled over. This was going to be a long night.

  Morning came. Her eyelids rose, and she focused on me, peeking suspiciously, frowning, like she’d found a lion on her bedroom floor.

  “Morning.”

  “Morning.” Wincing, she levered herself onto her elbow then rubbed at her eyes. Her smirk seemed to take in more than just me as a person. There was a distinct sexual vibe to how she studied me. Interesting. “Have you drawn my bath and polished the Rolls Royce?”

  Someone had decided I was safer than she’d thought I was yesterday. Good. I wasn’t about to remind her of my bad side.

  “The only bath I’ve ever drawn was probably with crayons when I was six, but if you want to lend me a Rolls, I promise I’ll polish it.”

  “Hmm.” She swung her legs down. “Not sure I’ll trust you with my car yet.”

  There was a subtle psychological message in that. Trust. All my cop interrogation techniques came to the fore. Win their trust then get them to spill their guts.

  Domkop. She’s a fellow prisoner, not a criminal. Still. I did need to see her back.

  I eyed her from under my brows, and decided not to take the bait. We could dance around a bit more with that idea before I’d push it.

  I sat up and scrubbed my hands through my hair, stretching out some of the cricks in my back and limbs.

  “Blêrrie hell. I’m going to suggest we swap tonight. You can have the floor.”

  Her flippant, “Wrestle you for it,” as she stood, made me wonder why she was pushing this. It was almost like she was flirting.

  I climbed to my feet too. “I doubt you’re fit enough for that.”

  And I could beat you with my little finger, have you pinned to the floor, squirming under me.

  Fok. The notions she gave me, almost every five seconds.

  Looking down at her, did what it had a few times since they’d stuck me in this room with her – reminded me of her in that other room. But I wasn’t some cave man governed by his dick. I could just say no and leave it in my imagination.

  “Turn around, Pieter. I need to use the toilet.”

  “And after that, I want to look at your back.”

  “No.”

  I angled my head and she shrugged.

  “I’ll put some ointment on myself.”

  As if she could reach properly.

  Soon. Soon I’d get her to let me. It was pretty essential.

  I was pleased that she didn’t look at all as if she doubted I’d look away. Except, when I went over to piss, I had the distinct feeling that she was staring at me. After years in the force and in the jungle fighting terrorists, my sixth sense was damn reliable.

  For all that day, I didn’t push that I was supposed to see her back, or not much. The woman was stubborn and scared of me touching her. Even so, I also knew Gregor would make sure to follow through if he had the glimmer of a doubt that she’d disobeyed him. And his punishments had a habit of getting worse.

  I was close to grinding my teeth down in frustration by nightfall. Sleeping on the floor again while she lay a few feet away, unattainable, and tossing and turning as if in pain, only made me get up in the morning, grumpy, and determined to examine her back.

  My one problem – this meant more to me than simply looking at the whip marks. It was why I was so conscious of keeping myself in check.

  When she had a shower that night, I sat on the bed and stared in the direction of the door. To look or not to look? I was being stupid. Not pushing the issue because I had other motives was all very nobl
e but it was still dumb.

  Merely sitting opposite her, talking, had been enough to steam up my brain. With her flimsy dress on, she was tantalizing. Having fucked her twice, I could imagine a lot.

  I steeled myself and I turned my head.

  Hot woman alert.

  She stood under the shower, facing away from me, with water streaming over her naked back. Jazmine left me in danger of swallowing my tongue. My dick shot up so fast and so hard I could’ve used it to shoot down planes. Her wet hair was plastered to her skin all the way down to her waist. The lower edge was like an arrow, slipping about in the water, and pointing straight at the tempting split of her ass.

  With great effort, I ignored the memory of my hands on those gorgeous mounds. Her back. Check that.

  Blue-black bruises but also one deep red area. Shit. Who knew if the whips and other implements here ever got cleaned? I needed a closer look. No ulterior motive, just common sense. If I asked her, she’d want to hide herself and I didn’t fancy that soapy wrestle, not really. I’d do something I’d regret with her under my hands.

  This could turn out so bad.

  What man wouldn’t get an erection looking at her nude? It was normal.

  I stood quietly and stalked over, zeroing in on the dark red streak. If it was a bacterial problem, she’d be sore, wouldn’t she? I wasn’t certain but redness after this much time might mean infection.

  Excuses, excuses.

  Then I reached within an arm’s length away from her and knew I would have to touch. With water cascading over the area, I still couldn’t tell.

  She was humming to herself, oblivious.

  Shooting fucking terrorists was easier.

  If I spoke, she’d jerk away, turn, cover herself, argue. I’m an ex-fucking cop. But...this was for her own good.

  I nearly gave myself a brain hernia turning this over.

  “Jazmine. Turn off the water so I can look.”

  Her gasp and screech were low volume. She froze. “Go away, Pieter.”

  I reached past her and turned the metal dial. The water slowed and stopped. The last clear stream trickled and died. I was so close I could see the fine hairs on her arm. The little silver angel, on the bracelet she never seemed to remove, swung in an arc from her wrist.

  “Your hair’s stuck across where I need to see. This won’t take long.”

  “Fuck. Off.” The trembling started and damn if that didn’t make my hard-on harder.

  “No. Ten seconds. Tops.”

  Getting there. Doing this. I counted downward from one hundred to stay focused. Naked woman, yes. Not mine. No.

  I smoothed my fingers under her hair, shifting it aside, and just as I cleared the spot where the line of red swelled up, pursing her skin into an angry ridge, she tried to bolt.

  I slammed my palm onto her, flattening her to the wall.

  “Stay, girl. Fucking stay there!” My voice had roared into boss mode.

  “Sorry.”

  God. That hitch in her voice. That spoke to my balls.

  I pressed on her harder and squatted. With my free hand, I gently cleared away the last strands of her hair. My cock was making me uncomfortable with its need to get into her, between these legs. Even while I concentrated on her back, I was feeling myself sinking into her wet pussy.

  There were memories that you remembered and memories that held you hostage and threw you back into the moment, headfirst, cock first, scent, feel, and the slip of her cum on your fingers as you thrust them inside her.

  I cleared my throat.

  The welt was a little red and puffy but nothing atrocious.

  “This needs keeping an eye on.”

  Then I looked lower, saw the lips of her cunt. I’d been in there. I’d beat this ass, made these bruises. “You’re going to let me check you every day, from now on.”

  Her swallow was audible. Her reply was as quiet as a drift of breeze. “I don’t think –”

  “Understand me?”

  She didn’t answer.

  Water dribbled down the outside of her thighs. I’d strapped apart these legs. Been in this pussy. Made her scream. My mind was blown. I knew I’d never stop, not now. Need arrived, blasting in, blowing apart rational, civilized me.

  Keeping that one hand on her back, holding her in place, I let my fingers glide down until they reached the top of a bruise a few inches below where her butt swelled outward. I wasn’t using much force and she was staying still. Did she like it or did I scare the hell out of her?

  Whatever.

  Such temptation was never meant for any man to resist.

  “Understand?”

  “Yes.” Feather quiet.

  I looked up the length of her back. Her forehead was resting on the wall.

  Then I leaned in, wrapped my hand around her thigh, and I bit right over that bruise.

  Her gasp turned into a high-pitched “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” before I let go.

  While keeping careful contact with her skin with my hand, I climbed to my feet, marveling at the slopes of her warm body. Her submissiveness was intoxicating. She shuddered under my fingers and I detected the smallest nudge outward of her very female bottom. That signal, I could pick up from a hundred yards away.

  I was sure lack of protest didn’t hide unwillingness.

  From no to yes in under thirty seconds.

  “What are you keeping from me? Hmm?” I played with a wisp of hair at the side of her neck and began winding those few strands on one finger, around and around.

  “Nothing. I want you to go away.” As before, her words were so quiet, it seemed she barely wanted them heard.

  “Do you?” My hold grew firmer as I gathered more hair. I tightened my grip until she had to bend back her neck. “I see a beautiful pair of eyes.”

  Jazmine blinked at me and, fok, she whimpered and parted her lips, sucked in a long breath – like she was about to run out of oxygen. Her eyelids lowered. Red rag to a bull.

  If she wasn’t turned on, I was a purple alien from Mars. I desperately wanted to push this. To see the truth beneath her wildly different body language.

  I might not have played the dominant card with Elenor but with this one it came with the package. I tugged once on her hair. “You’re going to turn around when I tell you to and stand there. Now.”

  I let go. My heart pounded away as if it too waited anxiously to see where this would go. If she ducked under my arm and ran...

  Chapter 12

  “...turn around when I tell you to and stand there. Now.”

  That command had me paralyzed. I was torn. I needed to get away from Pieter and I craved staying. I wanted him to make me do...things.

  It was the stupidest desire ever.

  Where he’d planted his palm on my back and where he’d bitten seemed hot as brands, reminding me of how easily he could handle me.

  That was such a turn-on, but wasn’t me. I was smart, independent. If a previous boyfriend had tried this, I’d have laughed, I’d have kicked their balls up into their teeth. Not that they would’ve dared try. Pieter...was different.

  When he’d let my hair go, I’d bowed my head again. Now I was stuck here in limbo, knowing he wanted me to turn and face him and knowing if I did, it would be a huge mistake. Every other time, I’d been tied up. I had excuses. It had been forced.

  I couldn’t just obey him. Male dominance was ridiculous.

  “If you don’t move by the count of three, I’m going to turn you over my knee on that bed and spank you.”

  “Pieter...” I stalled, feeling like I was being strangled.

  The worst part – I knew he’d do this and like it. That was so hot.

  “Three.”

  I raised my head, teeth clamped on my bottom lip. Even thinking about deciding what to do was scrambling my brain.

  Fuck.

  And he’d be seeing my indecision. Probably thought it amusing.

  “Two.”

  Crap. Spanked? He could do that if he wanted to even i
f I fought. I swung and found myself confronted by this huge man, who occupied more space then he should be allowed to. Air, I needed air.

  My throat worked. I needed to tell him I wanted him out of my face. “I...”

  “What?”

  He whacked his hands onto the wall either side of my head then looked down at me. “Hmm?”

  For a few seconds, his gaze moved lower, to my breasts. With his body so up close, my brain wasn’t functioning. I was supposed to answer –

  “Forgotten what you were going to say?” His mouth curved up, barely.

  It was fearsome what I saw promised in that tiny gesture. Was that supposed to be a smile or was he about to pounce?

  I blinked, not sure if I was breathing. I was the utter focus of his attention.

  What he’d done in the other room was him. He liked hurting me, liked fucking me and tying me up. That knowledge riveted me to this wall. There was fear and there was fear.

  He could hurt me, badly, if he wanted to. I didn’t think he would, but he could.

  A little bit of fear was a whole lot of thrill.

  As he shifted infinitesimally nearer, I squirmed up the wall, trying to merge with the white tiles. A quarter inch, an inch? His body heat and his scent was a living force. This was the man who’d napalmed my ass. Any closer and I’d be lost.

  “You didn’t run.”

  I glanced to the side. “I um...” Run? Good idea.

  With his whole hand, he gripped my jaw, as if he wanted to be sure I stayed put, then he dragged me back to the middle. Past a few dangling locks of hair lurked his clear brown eyes.

  “Hello, there.” That bear-growly voice of his should be illegal. “Place your fucking palms on the wall and keep them there until I say not to. Do you need more incentive?”

  I’d flinched at the fucking. Wimp.

  He pinched one of my nipples between finger and thumb and squeezed.

  Gasping, and in increasing pain, I slumped as far as I could go with my nipple his hostage. That I’d become even wetter horrified me.