Tragic Beauty

by Iris Ann Hunter

  “Help me get her down.”

  I scream—a raw, primal scream that burns the back of my throat. I kick and gouge, fighting with everything I’ve got, but three sets of strong hands wrestle me to the ground, until my face is in the dirt and a knee digs into my back, crushing my lungs and pinning me down.

  “Shayne, please!” I wail.

  Over my cries, I hear a voice. It sounds like Red.

  “Hey, come on, Shayne, this ain’t right. You—”

  “Shut up! I’m not in the mood for your shit! And somebody gag her!”

  I try to shake my head and seal my lips, but rough fingers shove a sweaty bandana into my mouth, making me gag. Then a hand I know is Shayne’s, yanks up my dress and pulls down my underwear, exposing my skin to the cool winter air. He grows still above me, and silent, and I know he’s seeing some of the marks.

  “Damn,” somebody says. “What happened to her?”

  “Shut up,” Shayne snaps. “And if I catch any of you fuckers staring, you’re fired.” He shifts above me, and when I hear his voice again, it’s low and close to my ear. “I hadn’t planned on this, Ava. But after what you’ve done, you got this coming. If you had any doubts before, you won’t after this. You’re mine, Ava. Fucking mine! About time you learned that.”

  He’s off me now, getting to his feet. I squirm and whimper, trying with every bit of strength I have to get away, but they hold me down like I’m nothing but a rowdy calf.

  “Alright, give it to me,” Shayne says. “And make sure you hold her down tight.” A boot steps on my thigh and the bile rises up in my throat. I close my eyes, praying a man with green eyes will swoop in and save me. But that’s the movies. That’s not real. This is real. The dirt in my face, the smell of hot iron, the men holding me down. I open my eyes and watch a thumb with a scar move slowly back and forth along my wrist.

  “Got her?” Shayne asks, sending me into a final panic that has me straining, and crying, and thrashing with everything I have left inside me.

  “Yeah. We got her.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Ava

  I’m in a haze, a dark haze, drifting aimlessly, until I hear a voice. His voice. Near me. There’s another man’s voice too, but it sounds far away. My lids feel heavy, my body hurts. One place especially. My hip. Why does my hip hurt? Then I remember. I remember it all. The boot on my thigh. The white hot stab of the iron. The pain. The smell of burning flesh. I must’ve passed out then, because I don’t remember anything else, or how I got here. I want to weep, weep so bad, but I hold it in, not wanting to give myself away. There’s more pain, in my shoulders, and I’m cold. It takes a minute for me to figure out my arms are bound behind me, and I’m naked. I grit my teeth to keep the scream in. Instead, I try to focus on where I am.

  I peer through my lashes to see flashes of dark wood and brown leather, blurry shapes that resemble a desk and a sofa. Beneath me, I make out the brown and white patches of a cowhide rug, with natural hardwood beyond, and know I’m lying on my side on the floor.

  “What do you mean you can’t keep him?” Shayne’s voice spikes, grabbing my attention. The other voice comes in again, coming from a speakerphone. A voice I now recognize as Sheriff Carson.

  “Like I said, he’s got bigwig lawyers. He’s a fucking movie star, Shayne! You didn’t think that would bring some heat down on me? The fucking press is all over the place. Christ, even the damn county DA called me already, grilling me up and down about this.”

  “I don’t give a fuck who he is! I want his ass to stay in jail! I got a witness. She’ll sign a statement.”

  “And he’s got old man Hanley saying just the opposite. Saying you attacked him. Claimed it was self-defense.”

  “Fuck!”

  “Sorry, Shayne. My hands are tied here. I got to let him go. And unless you want a shit storm of publicity on your hands, I say drop the charges. Ain’t nothing good gonna come from it.”

  Silence, then Shayne’s tight-lipped voice. “Fine. Drop the fucking charges.” With a click the static is gone, followed by a loud crash of things falling to the floor.

  More silence follows, for what seems like an eternity, until I hear the creak of a chair, followed by footsteps. They grow louder until I see his boots next to me. The beast is close. So close. I struggle to stay completely still, but know my breathing gives me away.

  “Found yourself a movie star, did you?”

  His voice is quiet, but the fury is there, buried just beneath the surface, yet still so loud. Slowly, I open my eyes to see him towering over me, looking oddly weary, then he steps away and collapses onto the sofa, staring at me.

  “What happened to you?” he asks, his gloomy gaze roaming over my body. “You’re covered, in cuts, and bruises, some the size of fingertips. And you’ve got bite marks, on your neck.” Shayne leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes narrowed. “Did he do that to you?”

  I blink, but can’t bring myself to answer.

  He tilts his head, like he’s trying to figure it out. “I saw the way you looked at him. So…if it was him…” He pauses. “Then…you must’ve liked it. Is that it, Ava? Do you like it rough? Do you like it when it hurts?”

  My throat tightens and I look away.

  Shayne sighs and the silence comes again.

  It’s daunting. Before, when he was full of anger, the beast was easier to read, easier to predict. But this—this dreaded calm is so much worse. I have no idea what’s coming.

  The sofa creaks and he’s up and moving again. His footsteps stop behind me, where he crouches down, and with a surprisingly gentle touch, he rolls me over so I’m on my stomach. I tremble when he runs a fingertip over a cut, then another one. “We both know I’m not a tender man, Ava, but I would’ve taken care of you. I would’ve made it good for you.”

  His words are spoken so quietly, so sincerely. But it’s a trick. The beast is playing tricks.

  I brace when his finger moves to my hip, circling where he’s marked me. “You might find this hard to believe,” he says, his voice growing softer, “but I meant what I said at the altar. I do promise to do those things. But it didn’t mean I wouldn’t punish you, wouldn’t hurt you for what you did to me. You lied to me. You broke your word to me.” He pulls my hair back, so he can see my face. “Didn’t you?”

  I close my eyes and swallow.

  “What was our deal, Ava, hmm?”

  A tear pushes past my lashes, and he runs his thumb across my cheek, wiping it away.

  “I know you remember it,” he goes on. “Think back. Think back to that day. It was hot, wasn’t it? And you’d just come out of the bank, looking so damn pretty, and so damn sad. You’d dolled yourself up in a little white dress with those little red roses all over it, and you’d even put your hair up in a ponytail and tied it off with a bow. But it didn’t work, did it? You had that crumpled up foreclosure notice in your hand, looking like the world was about to end. But I was waiting for you, wasn’t I? I was standing by your daddy’s truck that you were driving then, because you’d just turned sixteen.”

  He strokes my hair now, while my body keeps trembling.

  “And you thought I was there to torment you,” he chuckles. “That’s what you said, remember? But I wasn’t. I’d heard about your lame-ass daddy being sick, and that you were about to lose your place too, so I knew what you were up against. I was there to offer you a way out. I said I’d pay for everything, didn’t I? The mortgage, the bills, the food—all of it. But in exchange I wanted everything from you too, and with no restrictions. Now, I know I was trying to get the better of you, but you drove a hard bargain. But I’d expect no less from you, Ava. So, what’d we settle on, hmm?”

  He waits, but knows I won’t answer.

  “For every month he stays alive—every month I pay—you give me a month in return. That’s it, wasn’t it? That’s what we agreed on? Gotta say, I was only figuring for a year at the most because of what the docs gave him. Still can’t decide if it was my luc
k, or your luck that had him lasting five years. All I know is that was a long-ass time for me to wait.”

  He sighs and runs his fingers along my jaw. “Anyway…there was more though, wasn’t there? You were so proud. So strong. You had your one condition. You said I couldn’t touch you until he was gone. That was a hard one for me, Ava, but I went along. Then I countered by saying that when the time came, you would come live with me, 24/7. And I could see by the look in your eyes that was a tough one for you, so I sweetened it, didn’t I? I said at the end of our time together, I’d pay off your mortgage, so that place would be yours free and clear. I thought that was pretty decent of me, don’t you think? But there was something else too, wasn’t there? There was one final bit of that deal. One last little detail, but it was so important.”

  Shayne gives a little tug on my hair as more tears seep through my lashes and onto the rug.

  “Come on, Ava. You can say just this last little bit can’t you? I know you remember it. No? Well, let me help you. I’ll give you a hint. See, I knew you were a virgin at the time. That fucker on the side of the road had tried to take your cherry from me, but you fought him off, didn’t you? Attempted rape it had been called, not rape. And I’d kept a real close eye on you growing up, and you were so quiet, and so shy, that I knew no one else had gotten to you.”

  His hand threads into my hair, and slowly settles around the base of my neck, tightening as he speaks. “So what was it, hmm? What was that last little detail that I made sure you understood? Oh yeah. No one touches you. NO ONE!!!”

  Those last two words tear through my ears in a violent shout that echoes inside my skull as he cuts off my air completely and smashes my head into the rug.

  “I know I made it clear. I’m sure I did. I even asked you if you understood. And in this voice so small, you whispered, ‘I understand.’ Remember that? REMEMBER THAT, AVA??!!”

  I start to thrash, desperate for air, when he lets me go, grabs my hair and yanks my head back, his lips at my ear. “But you lied to me. You broke your word to me. I never figured you for that kind of girl, but know that I know this about you, I don’t feel so bad over what I’ve done, or what I plan to do.”

  Shayne hauls me to my feet by my hair, then drags me from the room and out into the hall. My legs wobble as I stumble after him, glimpses of stone walls and wood beams blurring past me. We finally come to a wooden door with large metal hinges that he opens and shoves me through, so hard I fall to my knees. The door slams behind me and then he’s there, looming over me, and in a cold, hard voice, he says, “Now it’s my turn.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Ava

  Shayne hauls me to my feet and I start to tremble, violently. I know we must be in the master. Not just because of the enormous bed with the thick, black iron, box frame, but the room is huge, with more stone walls and thick wood rafters above, and large windows that lead to the mountains beyond. I know there’s carpet beneath my feet, a couple doors off to the right, and a small seating area by the window, but I don’t see any of it, because there’s something in the far corner that makes my stomach turn.

  A dog crate.

  Shayne doesn’t have any dogs.

  I feel him behind me, undoing my wrists, but he must sense where my focus is, because he says, “I had a room all set up for you, but until you’ve earned it, you’re in the doghouse, sweetheart.”

  His words and that crate have the anger boiling to the surface, and as soon as my wrists come free, I turn and strike as hard as I can. My fist lands on his jaw and he grunts and jerks back. My hand screams in pain, but I don’t care. I’m on him, kicking and screaming, and clawing at his face, but he’s so strong, and so quick. As soon as it starts, it’s over, and he’s got my wrists again, chuckling while he yanks them above my head. He ties them to the top of the bed frame, so high, my toes just barely graze the carpet, and so tight, the rope breaks my skin.

  Shayne steps back and swipes at the cut on his cheek, then smiles. “Don’t worry, Ava. I like it rough too, you know.”

  He takes a step towards me and I kick out with my legs, causing him to jump back and shake his head. He walks through one of the doors, that I know must be the closet, because he returns with a black tie. Then he’s on me before I can blink, gathering my ankles together and tying them so tight I know my feet will be numb soon. When my legs are bound he steps back and watches me flail, uselessly.

  I can’t give up.

  I won’t give up.

  He steps in close and stills my body with his large hands. A sob stumbles out of me and I squeeze my eyes shut.

  “What’s wrong, Ava?” he asks. “I thought this was how you liked it?”

  Tears begin sliding down my cheek while Shayne sighs and runs his fingertips over some cuts on my stomach and along my waist, causing me to flinch. “Tell you what, wife,” he says, his voice quiet now. “I’ll give you a choice. If you tell me he forced you, that he took you and hurt you against your will, I’ll let you wait until you’re ready, however long that takes. I give you my word, which unlike you, I know how to keep. I’ll kill him of course, for what he’s done to you, but that will buy you some time. Which again, I think’s pretty decent of me, considering how long I’ve already had to wait. But, if you tell me you were willing—that you liked it rough, liked it when he hurt you—then I’ll let him live. Not his fault, after all. I’m sure you didn’t tell him about our little deal here. But then you take what I give you. I think that’s pretty fair, don’t you?”

  I look at him now, wondering how anyone can be so cruel. He’s standing with his head cocked, his black eyes studying me.

  Shayne steps back and I can’t help but watch as he slowly undoes his belt, slides it through the loops, and lets it hang from his fingers. “So what’s it going to be, Ava, hmm?” He dips his head, catching my gaze and bringing it up to his. He moves back close to me. “Come on,” he whispers, caressing my jaw. “I want to hear you say it.”

  I swallow when he wraps his hand around my throat, his mouth inches from mine. “Were you willing…or not willing?”

  When I don’t answer, his grip tightens. “I won’t ask again.”

  I close my eyes and give him the only answer I can. “Willing.”

  His fingers loosen but I keep my eyes closed. “And when he hurt you…did you like it, or not like it?”

  His grip tightens on me again. “I—liked it.”

  Shayne’s hand softens around my neck, and he leans his forehead against mine, just resting it there.

  When he steps back, I open my eyes to see him gathering the belt in his hands. “Then consider this foreplay.”

  His eyes gleam when he hauls back and brings the belt down with a loud smack across my left breast. I shriek when my nipple explodes in such pain that fresh tears burst through my eyes. I throw my head back and cry and squirm against the rope that takes more flesh from my wrists, only to hear the hiss of the belt again. It lands across my other nipple, and I scream. Then it’s my stomach, my legs, all the cuts and sores I know he’s aiming for. I’m sobbing, shaking my head, watching him crane his arm back and grunt as he delivers blow after blow. A burn spreads out across my front like a raging wildfire, then his rough hands spin me around, away from him. I hear the hiss again, feel the burn spread as he begins belting my back, my bottom, still aiming for all the cuts. The loud smack of the belt against my skin ricochets off the stone walls, but it’s when he tags the fresh brand on my hip, that my scream shatters the room. I keep screaming, because I can’t stop. Raw, raspy cries that tear at my throat, until at some point, he stops, and I’m left hanging from the rope, limp, panting, tears streaming down my cheeks while my body burns like it’s on fire.

  Shayne turns me around and lifts my chin, eyeing my tears. I yank away and hurl a mouth full of spit at his face, lashing out with any weapon I can think of. He jerks back, surprised, but then the beast just smiles and wipes it off. I squirm when he closes in and reaches for my jaw, crushing his fingertips
between my teeth and forcing my mouth open. Then he spits inside.

  “Anything you can play at, I can play harder,” he says, clamping my mouth shut and waiting until I have no choice but to swallow.

  When he lets me go, he steps back and begins taking off his clothes. That’s when I start crying again, because I know what’s coming next. Through the blur, I watch Shayne drop his shirt to the floor. I know there’s an enormous torso of hard muscle before me, but my eyes rest on the mounds of his chest—on the large tattoo over his heart. A tattoo that I can’t take my eyes off of. Because in the middle of a thick patch of red roses and thorns, all tangled up in barb wire, is…Ava.

  I stare at my name, written in script.

  “You seem surprised,” he says, undoing the top button of this jeans and looking down at the tattoo, then back to me. He moves in, wanting me to see it up close. I don’t want to look at it, but I do. All the different reds of the rose petals, the hundreds of thorns, the silver steel of the barbed wire, all weaved together so intricately. “I got this after we made our deal,” he says, rubbing his fingers over the top of it. “I got it so every woman I was with, every woman I fucked—every single one of them blonde with blue eyes by the way—would know who I was really fucking.” He smiles and gently tucks my hair back while I stare at it. “Can’t say most of them liked it once they saw it…or liked that I called them Ava while I fucked their brains out either.”

  I look up at him.

  “Oh, come on,” he says grabbing a lock of my hair and giving a little shake. “Don’t look so shocked. You know I’ve been lost to you, ever since that day on the playground.” He smiles, watching me carefully. “That’s right. You know what day I’m talking about, don’t you?”