Deviant

by Gemma James

  “So he’s your Master?”

  “What do you mean by master, Angel?”

  “You know,” she said, her brows narrowing over blue eyes full of confusion, “the man who owns you.”

  Something about her was almost child-like, as if she’d experienced the world through lenses different from the rest of us.

  “How old are you?” I asked, guessing she wasn’t a day past eighteen.

  “Master said I don’t have an age.”

  “And you don’t remember your name?”

  Again, she drew her brows together, deep in thought. “Master called me Pet.” She chewed on her lip. “He’s going to be angry with me.”

  “How come?”

  “For letting New Master give me a name.”

  I shook my head, sorrow clogging my throat for a few seconds. “You’re free now, Angel. Whoever hurt you before isn’t going to do it again.”

  “You don’t understand,” she said, her lips pinching in distress. “I tried leaving Master once before, but he found me.” Long, dark lashes fluttered over her pale skin, and a tear trickled free. “I don’t want to go back. If New Master will claim me, I won’t have to.” Her expression practically pleaded with me. “New Master is kind.”

  “His name is Jax.”

  She shook her head, eyes wide. “Men are always called Masters.”

  “No. Men are men, and women are women.” A weight dropped to the bottom of my gut, souring my stomach. Angel’s limited vocabulary and conversation skills told me the sicko who’d held her captive did so for a very long time, probably since she was a young child.

  The thought that she could have been born into that world…

  I was so sickened by the possibility that acid rose in my throat, and for a few nerve-wracking seconds, I thought I might puke.

  “Listen to me,” I said, grabbing her hands, ignoring her automatic flinch. She didn’t like to be touched. “There are no masters.” Not unless one got into kink, but that was too far out of her understanding right now.

  “Th-there’s not?”

  “No. People have names. I’m Alex. Rafe is Rafe. And you know Jax’s name already.” I paused, expecting her to protest, but she didn’t. “Say his name, Angel.”

  “J-Jax.” Her gaze wandered, first left then right, as if she expected to be struck down for calling a man by any other name than Master.

  “Say it again.”

  “Jax.”

  “See? No one is going to hurt you for using his name.”

  “He did.”

  I clenched my hands, already envisioning my fists pounding on Jax. Granted, our history was a rocky one, and he’d certainly put his hands on me in the past per Rafe’s instruction, but I didn’t think he’d sink so low as to hurt someone as fragile as Angel.

  I wanted to fucking kill him.

  “How did Jax hurt you?”

  “Not Jax. Master.”

  I gulped, the urge to vomit returning. Instead of speaking, I gave her hand a quick squeeze, hoping she wouldn’t shrink back from the contact this time, and silently encouraged her to open up about her past, no matter how horrific.

  She seemed to deliberate for a moment before parting her lips. “I can talk to you?”

  “You can always talk to me.”

  “Master beat me. Sometimes, he wouldn’t feed me for days. Other times, he locked me in a dog kennel for…I’m not really sure how long.” Her voice cracked, and she implored me with her blue eyes. “I can’t go back to that. If Jax will be my Master—”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” I interrupted. “You don’t need a master. Jax just wants to help you. So do I.”

  We locked gazes for several moments, until a bird squawked, and Angel jumped. I watched her retreat into herself again, helpless to stop it.

  No more eye contact or conversation for us. It appeared the heart-to-heart was over. I got to my feet. “We should probably head back.”

  She merely nodded, her movement fluid and graceful as she rose to stand, almost as if she had the body of a dancer. I wanted to ask if she’d ever danced, but I kept the question—and many more—to myself. Maybe over time, she’d come to trust me. Maybe we could even be friends.

  We were halfway to the cabin when I realized how much I missed having a real friend. In school, I’d had a few people I called friends, though they were more like acquaintances. Keeping the kind of secrets I’d held on to for so many years made it difficult to form bonds.

  The secrets I’d kept made it difficult to trust.

  Rafe was my best friend. He was my everything, and on most days, that was enough.

  But today brought that gaping hole of a social life to the forefront. How crazy that a simple walk with another woman had the power to change how I viewed my life.

  I missed this.

  The simple act of hanging out and chatting. Even a heavy conversation like the one I’d shared with Angel was better than no conversation at all.

  Every so often, I shot her a sideways glance, hoping she’d throw a socially starved girl a bone. Seemed she’d shared all the bones she had for the day.

  Patience, I reminded myself. She’d come around. Healing took time.

  We approached the cabin, and the front door stood open, the screen shut to keep the flies out. Just as I lifted a foot to climb the first step of the porch, Rafe’s voice slammed my feet to a halt.

  “I don’t want Alex to know about this just yet.”

  “I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Jax said, and I motioned for Angel to stay silent, index finger pressed to my lips. “So what are you gonna do?”

  Rafe didn’t answer right away. “Get married. The wedding should be enough to keep her occupied.” Any hope I’d had that he wanted to marry me sank to the bottom of my gut.

  “But what if she does find out? Dontcha think we should have a backup plan?”

  “The shackle in the bedroom is my backup. If she flips out that’ll keep her out of trouble.”

  My breath hitched, and I planted a hand on the railing to steady me.

  “I don’t know,” Jax said. “Better to take the offensive, if you ask me.” Footsteps landed on the floor inside the cabin, indicating movement. “You guys can hide out here indefinitely, but a wedding, even on the down-low, will attract attention for sure.”

  “By attention, you mean her father.”

  “And her brother.”

  A pause, during which my heart pounded too hard.

  “Shit always goes south. I think you should tell her, man.”

  Rafe sighed. “I hear you, but until we have some fucking concrete answers, she doesn’t need to know her father is out.”

  Hell no.

  I catapulted the steps and flung the screen door open, my sudden movement startling Angel, and stormed into the living room. “My dad is out of prison?”

  Rafe took one look at me and cursed under his breath. He rose from where he sat with his elbows on his knees, and I backed up, too angry with his high-handedness to be near him right now. He knew what this meant to me. I’d wanted to visit my dad in prison, but Rafe had said no, claiming that coming out of hiding wasn’t a good idea. But now Rafe and I were about to return to the land of civilization and get married. Now I could confront my dad with the burning question I couldn’t get out of my soul.

  What really happened to my mom?

  Rafe reached for me, but I held up a hand. If he tried touching me, I might throw something at his head again.

  “Tell me the truth. Is he out?”

  “Yes, but this doesn’t mean you need to worry.”

  “I don’t need to worry?” I raised my brows, same as my tone. “We’re talking about the man who killed my mom.”

  “According to Zach.”

  “Yes, according to Zach, who will no doubt be back now that Dad is free. How can you tell me not to worry?”

  Rafe exchanged a look with Jax as if to say this is why I didn’t want her to know.

  �
��Don’t you dare exclude me from this! I’m not a fucking child. You said it yourself—I’m unbreakable. Remember? Well put your money where your mouth is.” I prodded his chest with a finger. “You punish the fuck out of me for hiding the smallest stuff, but you do it all the damn time. I’m sick of it!”

  The instant a twitch went off in his jaw, I knew I’d gone too far. He circled my wrist in the vise of his fingers. “Excuse us,” he said, throwing a glance in Jax’s direction as he dragged me toward the hallway. “Time for the backup plan.”

  13. Not a Democracy - Rafe

  “Don’t touch me!” She pulled free of my grasp as the door slammed behind us, and I stalked her retreating form. She had nowhere to go, but that fact didn’t stop her from trying. She bumped into the bed and held up her palms. “I mean it, Rafe. Don’t fucking come near me.”

  “You can’t stop me from touching you.”

  “So you’re just going to chain me up like a dog every time you don’t get your way?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, grabbing her by the chin. “Are you going to be a reckless brat every time you don’t get yours?”

  “You’re not being fair,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Babe, this relationship hasn’t been fair from the beginning. I fucking kidnapped you. What makes you think I’m a fair man?”

  “I know your heart.”

  “Then you know how fucking dark it can get.” I let go of her chin and tangled my fingers in her hair, angling her head back so I could look down into her face. “You want to marry me? Then trust me. I know you want answers, but going to your father for them is too dangerous.”

  “He’s the only one who can tell me the truth.”

  “He’s not going to tell you shit, babe.”

  “I have to try.”

  “It’s too damn risky.”

  “It’s my only option.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, you don’t have options, sweetheart. This house isn’t a democracy. Not when it comes to your safety.”

  “Then go with me.”

  “You’re not going near him.”

  She fell silent, but the way she smoothed out her expression gave her away. She was going to fight me on this, possibly even do something stupid.

  Goddamn it.

  I loosened my hold of her hair, allowing the strands to slip through my fingers. Way I saw it, I had two options; chain her up and make her obey me, or try to reach a fucking compromise. I wanted the first option. I wanted her locked away in this room where no one except me could touch her.

  But she’d only rebel.

  I couldn’t keep her locked up forever, just as we couldn’t hide forever. Jax was right about that.

  “Wait until after the wedding, then I’ll take you to see your father.”

  “Really?” Her tone held a note of skepticism in it.

  “Yes.” At that point, she’d be my wife, and Abbott De Luca would hold nothing over us. No more threats of having her committed, and he’d have a hard time building a case against me if I were already married to his daughter.

  Alex couldn’t be subpoenaed to testify against me…if it went that far.

  One of us had to be practical. No way in hell would her father admit to murdering her mother, and I had no doubt the man had covered his tracks in terms of evidence. I was afraid Alex might never get the closure she was looking for.

  But she needed to hope. It was the one thing that kept her going. Kept her strong.

  She seemed to mull it over in her head. “After the wedding?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re really going to marry me.” She sounded stunned, as if it were only now hitting her, and that pissed me off.

  “Why wouldn’t I marry you? Did you honestly think my saying no had anything to do with our relationship? It was my baggage, Alex.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “I thought maybe…”

  “Spit it out. You know how I feel about you hiding shit.”

  A dark cloud passed over her features, part doom and part gloom. “That’s the problem. You hide things from me, especially your nightmares, and that makes me feel…”

  I took her hand in mine. “What, baby?”

  “Like it’s my fault.”

  I bit back a growl. “I don’t tell you about that shit because it doesn’t involve you.”

  “How can you say that? You have nightmares all the time about…when they…” she faltered, unable to finish, but I heard it anyway.

  Raped you.

  “Babe, don’t go there.” A pleading note crept into my tone, and I despised it. I’d fought for months to put my time in prison out of my mind, and for the most part, it had worked.

  Except for the occasional nightmare that still busted through my defenses.

  “But I put you there, so how can you say it doesn’t involve me?”

  “No, Zach and your father put me there. You were fifteen, Alex. Fucking fifteen-years-old. Scared and alone with no one on your side.” I brought my hands to her cheeks and cradled her face. “It’s not your fault. It never was. That’s why I don’t talk to you about those eight years. It’s not because I don’t want to share everything with you. It’s because I refuse to give you more ammunition to hate yourself.”

  “That’s…that’s not what—”

  “Bullshit. You wear your guilt like armor. You won’t forgive yourself, but you forgive everyone around you. Me, Jax, even Zach.”

  “I will never forgive him.”

  I clenched my jaw, knowing exactly which him she was talking about. “Don’t lie to me. You forgave him the instant you let him go.”

  “I showed him mercy, for your sake. I haven’t forgiven him, Rafe.”

  “It’s just who you are. I don’t like it, but I get it.” With a pause, I lowered my hands. “It’s time to forgive yourself. You made a mistake, but you didn’t set out to hurt anyone. You were scared and ashamed, and you let that shame drive you for years.” As I dropped my gaze to the faint marks on her skin—still visible from the night I found her standing next to the lake at camp—part of me died. “You need to stop punishing yourself. That’s my job now.”

  “According to you.”

  “Yes, according to me.” We stared at each other for several heated seconds, both raw and frayed around the edges, and my instincts told me she wasn’t about to back down. “I’m not kidding, Alex. The self-flagellation ends now.”

  “Or what?” she asked, bristling at my authoritative tone, confirming my suspicion.

  “Or you’ll find yourself in a situation you don’t want to be in. I know every one of your weaknesses.” I leveled her with a look of warning. “Every single fear, and you know I’m not above using them to keep you in line.”

  14. Oh Father - Alex

  Keeping me in line meant giving me a reminder of his my-word-is-law attitude by chaining my ankle to the bed again. Only this time, he slept at my side. After a couple of days of eating my meals in our bedroom, I got a bad case of cabin fever and pleaded for my freedom, promising him that I’d behave.

  He finally relented and let me free on the fourth morning.

  I chased off boredom by spending the day cleaning the place, starting with those dead plants on the kitchen windowsill. And after Angel scrubbed the bathroom floors with a toothbrush—by choice—she worked alongside me ridding the cabin of dust and grime, but we exchanged minimal conversation. The long stretches of silence didn’t bother me. I found her quiet nature comforting, companionable even.

  While we kept busy inside, the guys disappeared outside to work on a few upkeep projects, including putting up a temporary fix for the window I’d broken.

  I expected Rafe to lock that shackle around my ankle again, staying true to his “backup plan,” but he didn’t. After a dinner of steak and potatoes, he dragged me to bed and had me on my back, legs spread as he slid between them.

  The way he loved me—with a rare tenderness that was so out of tune with his character—nearly made
me cry. It couldn’t be classified as fucking. This was so much more, and my heart overflowed with too many vying emotions that I didn’t know what to do with them.

  “What’s wrong, baby?”

  “Nothing. I just love you.”

  As he nibbled on my lower lip, I wondered if he would say it back. I knew he loved me, but he didn’t voice it as much as I’d like. He spoke the language of love in so many other ways—some normal and healthy, others sick and wrong.

  “Telling you I love you isn’t enough, Alex.” He trailed his lips along my jawline. “It’ll never be enough. There aren’t enough words in the fucking dictionary to describe how I feel about you.”

  “Try.”

  “Hmm,” he murmured, his teeth nipping at my earlobe. “Consumed. Territorial. Protective.” He inched back, and his green eyes twinkled at me. “Twitterpated.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Keep going.”

  “Whipped, a piece of twine wrapped around your little pinky.”

  “You’re being oddly gentle tonight.”

  “I’m obsessed. Out of all the words in the English language that one says it best.” He claimed my mouth, effectively shutting me up as he increased his pace, hurtling us both to the finish line.

  Later, Rafe lay sleeping at my side, and that’s when my demons came knocking, and the absence of that shackle around my ankle blared in my mind, refusing to be silenced by my will alone.

  Sleep was fruitless.

  And that was the thing about obsession; it was a prison, an inspirer of madness. It was the bind that tied Rafe and me together, the urgency that festered in my soul. An ember that never stopped burning, no matter how long Rafe and I had been on the run. I knew all about being focused on something to the exclusion of all other things.

  Rafe was by far my biggest obsession, followed by the seed of doubt that Zach had planted in my brain the night I let him escape that damn fight. For the past few months, putting my mother’s death out of my mind hadn’t been easy, but with my dad locked away, out of reach, it had been doable.

  Necessary, even.

  But Dad wasn’t out of reach anymore. He was free, and probably without conscience as he went about his life, unimpeded by what he’d done. Maybe it was dangerous, but I couldn’t ignore the part of me that needed to look him in the eye and ask if he murdered my mom.