by Sykes, Julia
The shrill ringing of Master’s phone punctuated my blissful state. He frowned and pulled it from his pocket, checking the number before answering.
“Clayton,” he said into the receiver. “Did you find anything?”
His frown deepened.
“Fine. But she’s not going anywhere. You can come over.”
He hung up on his friend without saying goodbye. His harsh expression melted when he looked down at me, but his eyes were still troubled.
“Let’s see if we can find you some breakfast, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I’m sure I have something in other than coffee.”
I hated the loss of his arms around me, but he still held my hand as he led me out of the small bedroom.
The morning sun illuminated Master’s living room. The light shone in through one large window, which provided a stunning view of the New York City skyline. The room was made all the brighter for the stark décor. The walls and carpet were white, the blankness punctuated by black furniture. The space was sleek and minimalistic, unencumbered by frills or unnecessary adornment. It suited Master’s powerful nature. And yet the simplicity of it held the barest suggestion of loneliness; there was no place here for sentiment.
I was suddenly filled with anticipation at the prospect of exploring Master’s personal space. I wanted to know him better, to feel closer to him. The sensation of excitement was yet another vaguely remembered concept. Longing had claimed me when I had been desperate for my reward under that Bastard’s ownership, but that yearning was an empty, pitiful thing.
Master led me through the living room to the bathroom. It was similarly decorated to the living room, with a black tile floor and white walls. It might have seemed coldly impersonal if it weren’t for the fact that it reflected Master’s personality.
Once I was in the bathroom, he released my hand and moved to shut the door behind me. Panic spiked through my gut, and I reached for him.
“Please don’t leave me, Master.”
Something I couldn’t quite identify clouded his eyes. He seemed almost disturbed. And a bit pained. He blinked, and the lines of his face eased to a calm mask. His fingertips traced the line of my jaw, and I leaned into his touch, relishing the contact.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured me gently. “I’m going to be right outside that door. I want you to do this on your own.” His voice turned firmer, authoritative. “And you’ll do as you’re told. Won’t you?”
My stomach sank at the prospect of him leaving my side even for a minute, but I didn’t have a choice. “Yes, Master,” I replied meekly.
He watched me for the space of a few heartbeats, impressing his will upon me with his steady silver stare. I dropped my eyes, communicating my submission. Once he was sure of my compliance, he turned on the sink, adjusting the hot and cold water until he was satisfied with the temperature. Opening the mirrored medicine cabinet, he retrieved a toothbrush and removed it from its packaging before setting it down on the sink alongside a bar of soap.
“Wash your face, brush your teeth, and use the toilet,” he ordered.
“Yes, Master,” I replied hollowly, still staring at a spot on the floor. His fingers were beneath my chin, applying pressure so that I was forced to face him.
“It will make me very happy if you do this. You want to make me happy, don’t you, girl?”
I nodded, swallowing hard against the lump forming in my throat.
“Good girl.” He planted a gentle kiss on my forehead. The sign of affection gave me the strength I needed to let him go.
I did want to please him. I would prove to him that I was worthy of his care. The soft thud of the door closing behind him threatened to open the floodgates, but I ruthlessly held back the fear that arose when he left my sight.
Master had given me orders, and it was my job to comply. It was my sole purpose to obey him. My determination to please him tapped into a wellspring of strength within myself I hadn’t known I possessed. Focusing only on him, I easily completed my tasks.
As soon as I turned off the sink, he returned to me, pulling me into his embrace.
“That was very good, sweetheart.” I glowed at his rumbling praise.
All too soon, he released me so he could attend to his own needs. “Stay here,” he ordered before disappearing into a room adjacent to the one where we had slept. He reappeared quickly, holding a black t-shirt and a fresh pair of slacks. I hated losing sight of him as he closed the door to the bathroom, but I stood patiently in the living room, not moving from the spot where he had ordered me to wait for him.
He emerged only minutes later, dressed in his fresh clothes. The t-shirt was tight, doing little to disguise his muscular chest and bulging arms. My mouth practically watered at the sight. I knew Master was strong enough to protect me, but his physical perfection had always been obscured by his professional suit. There was no doubt in my mind that Master was more than capable of keeping me safe.
He led me to the kitchen, where it quickly became apparent that he didn’t have much other than coffee in stock. His fridge held little more than beer and an expired block of cheese, and his freezer was sparsely littered with a bottle of chilled vodka and a few frozen dinners.
I was shocked to find that he appeared slightly chagrined when he fished out a Toaster Strudel for my breakfast. “I’m afraid this is all I have to offer you,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “Unfortunately, I have fuck all in the way of culinary skills.”
He gripped my waist so he could lift me up onto one of the barstools at his kitchen counter. Pain flared where his fingers dug into my bruised flesh where that Bastard had kicked me. The image of his twisted, cruel snarl flashed across my mind.
“No amount of groveling will save you. I’ll be back for you, slave.”
My whimper was a result of residual fear as well as pain.
Master released me instantly, concern etched in his handsome features. He reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it up to examine my injury. A dark, purplish splotch stood in stark contrast to my pale skin. Master swore under his breath, his concern giving way to fury.
A buzzing sound broke through the tension that was radiating off of him. He blinked, his ire receding ever so slightly as he lowered my shirt to cover me once again.
“That’ll be Clayton,” he explained. “He’s going to ask you some questions about what happened last night. I want you to answer him as thoroughly as possible. If you get scared, I’ll be right here.” He paused, studying me. “Don’t call me ‘Master’ in front of him. If you do, he might try to take you from me.”
“I won’t, Master,” I promised quickly. “I won’t,” I amended, omitting his appellation. I liked Clayton, but I would claw his eyes out if he tried to take me away from Master.
He nodded, satisfied, before leaving me briefly in order to let Clayton in. As always, Master’s friend had a smile for me.
“Hi, Jane,” Clayton beamed at me. He always seemed to radiate positivity, his bearing implacably lighthearted.
“Hi.” My lips quirked up of their own accord in response to his levity.
“Jane, this is Agent Reed Miller. He works with Smith and me at the FBI,” Clayton introduced the man who followed him into Master’s apartment.
Agent Reed Miller was about the same height as Master, but he wasn’t quite as broad. He was younger. His face didn’t bear the same care-worn creases that crinkled at the corners of Master’s eyes, and his skin was tanned and smooth. He was also tidier than Master, his carefully-styled black hair and clean-shaven jaw likening him more to Clayton, who ever looked the professional in his sharp suits.
“You can call me Reed,” he told me.
He extended a hand towards me. Reflexively, I shrank back. I hadn’t met any men other than Clayton and Master since Master had claimed me.
The boyish smile was instantly wiped from his face, his dark brown eyes suddenly uncertain as he pulled his hand back slowly.
“Shit. Sorry.” H
e cut his eyes to Master when he apologized.
Master was instantly at my side, his warm hand splayed across my lower back in a show of support. I leaned into him, allowing his touch to ground me.
His eyes flashed as he frowned at Reed. I hated that he was angry with his friend because of me. If Reed worked with Master and Clayton, then he was safe. And even if he wasn’t, he couldn’t do anything to me with Master by my side. Gathering up my courage, I struggled to recall the mechanics of social niceties.
I was pleased that my hand barely trembled as I extended it towards Reed. “It’s nice to meet you, Reed,” I said, my voice a bit softer than I would have liked.
Reed glanced at Master briefly. He was clearly seeking some sign of approval before he acted. Master nodded once, the tension leaving him. Reed’s deference to his ownership of me had placated him.
Reed smiled at me when he took my hand in his. Although his eyes were such a dark brown that they were almost black, they reflected the light rather than swallowing it, giving off a decidedly mischievous twinkle. “It’s nice to meet you too, Jane,” he said warmly. His grip was firm when he shook my hand, but he released me quickly, seeming to sense that I couldn’t handle much more contact than that.
Master’s hand rubbed my back, and I glanced up to find him smiling down at me with pride. My answering grin was wide and silly. What might have been otherwise challenging seemed laughably easy with Master’s approval. If my actions pleased him, then I was fulfilling the purpose of my existence. I practically glowed with self-satisfaction. My world was rapidly changing, but I would be able to adapt to anything so long as he was there to guide me.
His eyes sharpened as he turned his attention back to Clayton and Reed. “Did you find anything at St. Paul’s?”
Clayton’s expression tightened, and he shook his head. “Nothing so far. The guy’s good, Smith. And someone’s helping him. There’s nothing on the security cameras. Someone looped the feed just minutes before he went into the building, so we don’t have any footage that we can plug into facial recognition. It’s unlikely he was able to do that by himself and get into Jane’s room when he did. He – and whoever his accomplice is – must have been watching the live surveillance feed so he could act as soon as Jane was left alone. It’s the only way to explain how he got in at just the right time to find Jane on her own.”
“Can you trace whoever hacked the feed?” Master asked, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he ground out the question.
“We’re working on it,” Reed said, “but this guy is good. It’s federal level tech he’s using.”
“What about the lead we were working last night? The witness from Decadence who recognized the sketch. Has his information gotten us anywhere?”
“No,” Clayton responded, a trace of bitterness in the word. “Turns out it was a dead end. The guy was just bullshitting to try to get out of the possession charges he’s facing. He didn’t know anything.” His bright blue eyes shifted to me. “We were hoping to get some information that might lead us to his accomplice. Did you ever see anyone else while you were being held captive, Jane? Did the man who imprisoned you ever mention a friend?”
The Mentor.
I had first met him on the day that I broke.
Blood running down my thighs as the whip slashed across my back. The two men using my broken body.
Master’s arm was around my shoulder, his fingers under my chin. He lifted my face up to his, and I clung to the sight of him like a lifeline.
“Stay here with me, girl,” he ordered.
I drew in a deep, shuddering breath. I would obey him. I would be good.
“Answer Clayton’s question.” He spoke gently, but it was an order nonetheless. I preferred it that way. If it was an order, then it was something I had to do. Master would guide me through it. Clayton was kind in the way he requested information, but my dark memories threatened to suck me under if I was left on my own. My own will wasn’t strong enough to overcome the terror of my past, but Master’s will was.
“Yes,” I breathed, staring resolutely up into Master’s eyes. “There was another man.”
“Do you know his name?” Clayton asked.
I shook my head. He didn’t have a name. He didn’t even have a face.
“Keep your eyes closed, whore. If you look at me, I’ll make sure you never see anything again.”
I couldn’t suppress my shudder at the memory.
“He was just the Mentor,” I whispered. “I didn’t know his name.”
“‘The Mentor’?” Reed asked, puzzled. “Is that what he called himself?”
I shook my head again. “No. That’s just how I thought of him. Ma- that Bastard called him ‘Sir.’”
Master’s brow furrowed. “Why did you think of him that way, girl?” He asked. “Why ‘the Mentor’?”
I flinched as my skin crawled with remembered agony. Master waited, his hand squeezing my upper arm gently in encouragement.
“He…” I swallowed down the bile rising in the back of my throat. “He taught that Bastard how to hurt me. How to break me.”
My mind shied away from that. It brought me far too close to brushing against the woman I used to be before I had become a slave. I touched my fingers to my throat, half-expecting to find the cool weight of my iron collar.
Master’s handsome face was twisted into a furious mask. Once, I might have recoiled from that fierce expression, but now I understood that it wasn’t directed at me.
“Can you tell us what he looked like, Jane?” Clayton asked. “We can get you to talk to a sketch artist again.”
“I don’t know,” I replied softly, my voice strained. Nothing I said was of any use to them. I didn’t know anything important. All I knew was pain and abuse. I had no knowledge of anything else. “I’m sorry. He told me he would blind me if I looked at him.”
Despite Master’s warm presence, a pervasive cold had pulsed to life in my bones, emanating out through my muscles to make my flesh pebble. A fine tremor raced across my skin, and a moment of tense silence passed as the men absorbed my gruesome explanation.
When Clayton finally spoke again, his voice was tight with suppressed anger. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “That’s okay, Jane.” His tone resumed most of its usual cool surety. “Can you tell us what happened last night?”
Last night.
Spilled coffee mingling with blood.
Oh, god.
“Is Susan okay?” I asked quickly, my voice high with panic. I had been so determined to avoid the dark memories that I had forgotten about Susan.
“She’s going to be fine,” Clayton reassured me. “She has a concussion, but she’ll make a full recovery. But she doesn’t remember what happened last night. I need you to tell me. Can you do that for me, Jane?”
Yes. I could do that. Master had ordered me to answer Clayton’s questions.
“Susan left to get coffee,” I began quietly.
I was waiting for Master to return to me. I was so anxious without him there to watch over me.
And I had been right to be afraid. I wasn’t safe without Master by my side.
“She hadn’t been gone more than a few minutes when he came. I tried to fight him. He hit me.”
“You thought you could run from me?”
I wanted to bury the memory, but I closed my eyes, forcing myself to recall every detail. “He was wearing blue scrubs. When Susan came back and saw him, she thought he was an orderly. I begged him not to hurt her, and she realized who he was. She hit the nurse call button so help would come. I tried to hold him back, but he hit her. He realized people were coming, so he decided to leave me.”
“This cunt is mine. You’ll always belong to me.”
“He said he would come back for me. He said I belonged to him,” I finished in a whisper.
I touched my fingertips to my neck again, but Master caught my hand in his. I blinked and stared up into his eyes. They burned with possessive fury.
“You
don’t belong to him,” he told me firmly. “He will never touch you again.”
I knew I shouldn’t contradict him, but fear of that Bastard overwhelmed my fear of displeasing my Master. I had to make him understand how important it was that I remain with him at all times.
“That’s what you said before,” I reminded him, my voice small.
Master frowned, and I held my breath, worried I had pushed too far.
“You’re right. I did say that,” he admitted. “I won’t leave you again, little one. Not until we’ve found him.”
“Smith,” Clayton’s voice was cautious as he addressed his friend. “You know that’s not practical. We need to get Jane to a safe house, and you need to be at work helping us track this guy down.”
Master’s arms tightened around me. “She’s not going to a safe house,” he said firmly. “If that Bastard can get into the clinic when we had her under twenty-four hour surveillance, then I’m not trusting her safety to anyone but me. As of now, I’m taking my vacation days. I believe you’ll find I have about twelve weeks stored up.”
Clayton’s brows rose in surprise. “You don’t want to help us find the guy?” He asked incredulously.
“I’ll do the desk jockey shit,” Master said. “Just send me paperwork, and I’ll do it. Miller can work in the field with you.”
Clayton frowned at Master. “You suck at being a desk jockey.”
“Just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean I’m incapable of doing it,” Master fired back.
Clayton was more direct this time. “I don’t think this is a good idea, James. It really isn’t appropriate for Jane to be alone with you.”
Master’s expression darkened. “What are you insinuating, Vaughn?” He asked, his voice low and dangerous. “That I’ll do something inappropriate? How could you even think-?”
“Of course I don’t think that,” Clayton cut him off firmly. “But this is totally against protocol.”
Master raised a brow at his friend. “And when have you ever known me to give a shit about the rules?”
The lines of Clayton’s handsome face hardened. “This is different, James. And you know it.”
