Good Sick: A Dark Psychological Romance

by Sansa Rayne

  “It’s his file. Everything I could get. Police dossier. Newspaper clippings from when Kaya disappeared. Records from the investigation. It might be interesting to read; maybe it will help you make up your mind. But…”

  I shut the file and turned to her.

  “I think you already know all that you need to know about him.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  Dr. Davis took a deep breath. “I don’t think I can answer that for you. On the one hand, you have the fact that he used you, put you in danger, lied to you… On the other, there are his motives. It’s up to you to decide what matters more.”

  I figured she would say that. “What about the way I felt when I was with him?”

  “Certainly, that might influence your decision.”

  “Or that he came to my rescue?”

  “Praiseworthy, but don’t discount how lucky he was that you were still alive.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Abbi, for what it’s worth, I believe that he really does care for you. As you overheard, he adamantly wanted to call the whole thing off and keep you out of harm’s way. I believe he tried, in that regard. Maybe he didn’t try hard enough. That you’ll have to decide for yourself.”

  I smiled. “You know this would be a lot easier if you just told me what to do.”

  Dr. Davis laughed. “When the situation calls for it, I will. But you’re an adult, and your own woman. These choices have to be yours. Making a decision can be really scary, Abigail, but it’s a part of life we all go through. And we can’t grow as people if we don’t have adversity to overcome. You’ve already had your share, and seeing you come through it the way you have, it gives me a lot of hope that you’ll be fine.”

  Crying a little, I nodded. “Thank you, Kerri. For everything. I don’t know how I would have gotten through any of this without you.” I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater.

  “You’re welcome, Abbi. It means a lot to me. And remember, being an adult also means asking for help when you need it. There’s nothing wrong with that. None of us are perfect. Nobody has all the answers. We all have doubts, and frustrations, and bad days. It’s how you work through them that makes you who you are.”

  “All right. I won’t forget that.”

  “I know you won’t.” Dr. Davis pointed to the watch on her wrist and stood up. “The question is, what are you going to do now?”

  I let her walk me out, hugging me before I departed. I said, “I think I know.”

  Mason agreed to everything I demanded for meeting with him. He had no issue with me picking the time or the place, or the fact that we would never meet again if I wasn’t convinced of his complete contrition.

  For our meeting, I wanted to be out in public, but I also didn’t want to be recognized easily, so I chose a small diner in the middle of breakfast. The place would be packed, but the patrons would be focused on reading the paper while having a quick meal, and thus not paying us any attention.

  I told him to meet me at 7; I arrived at 6:30 to make sure I beat him there, but he did as I asked, and walked in exactly at the hour mark. He looked incredible, despite the early hour. Whether he wanted to blend in with the crowd or make an impression on me, he dressed impeccably: three-piece suit, a stylish striped tie and a fresh haircut. He smiled brightly when he saw me, but the expression appeared different now: less forced, more natural. I didn’t have to ask why.

  “Thanks for meeting me,” he said.

  Before I could reply, the waitress came to ask if he wanted coffee. When I first sat down and mentioned I was waiting for somebody, she tried to pressure me into ordering and leaving, not wanting me to take up the table. However, that stopped after she refilled my coffee for the second time; I think she recognized me and was nice enough not to say anything. I made a note to have Mason leave her a big tip.

  “Sure,” I said. “Before you get started, though, I do want to apologize for one thing.”

  “You have no-”

  “Don’t interrupt.”

  He put his hands up in surrender and waited for me to speak.

  “What I said to you after giving my statement, about you not being sorry. That was mean of me. Anger made me say that, more than anything.”

  Mason waited to make sure I was done, then replied, “Accepted, Abigail, but really, this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in all this. I definitely shouldn’t have lied to you.”

  “No, definitely not.”

  The waitress returned to take our orders. Scanning the menu quickly, since I hadn’t bothered to by that point, I chose a cheddar omelet with bacon, hash browns and toast.

  “The same,” said Mason. “I’m sorry about the lies, Abigail. I hated myself for doing it, but I couldn’t let it go. I had to find Brady by any means necessary.”

  “Did it have to be me?” So many other girls had been rescued from Good Souls, many of them younger and prettier than me. I never understood what made me special.

  Mason nodded. “Only you. Brady wouldn’t have come back for any of the others.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because he loved you, Abigail. I really believe that. He kept you on that farm for six years, when most of the other girls were gone within one.”

  He was right; my lengthy tenure had driven me crazy during my time at the farm. I assumed that indulging my sexual urges kept me from ascension. Knowing the truth made me feel impossibly naive.

  “I hate to put it this way, but… Brady could have made a lot of money selling you. You’re beautiful; the men would have bid each other sky high for you. As fucked up as it is, he really was giving up a lot to keep you. It may be that the only good deeds he’s ever done in his whole life have been for you.”

  “That’s pretty sad,” I said.

  “It is. Brady’s a monster, but he has a weakness for you. I hate that it means I have something in common with him, but I do.”

  “It could be worse, Mason. You didn’t spend years looking up to him like he was your savior when really he was the exact opposite.” I wished then that I hadn’t ordered such a big breakfast; I should have expected to lose my appetite, talking about Brady.

  “Yeah, you’re right. This is why I was so compelled to do what I did. I hope you can understand. If you had been sold by Brady, your life would have been a living nightmare. What must Kaya have gone through in the last ten years? It’s horrifying to think about. I had to do something. Maybe sometime soon I can save what’s left of her.”

  I thought about what Brady said about Kaya and shivered. “Don’t go trying to find her,” he’d warned Mason. Was he just playing a mind game, or was he serious?

  “You did what you thought had to be done. I do get that,” I said. “But it’s hard for me to ignore the fact that you used me. How am I supposed to forgive you for that?”

  Mason stared down at the table. Our food arrived smelling like heaven. The waitress topped off our coffees and gave me a wink before turning to go.

  “Abigail, I hope you’d take into consideration that I did try to call it off. When I realized that I needed you more than the ghost of my sister, I told Frank. He wouldn’t have forgiven me when we were so close, but I didn’t care.”

  Though I had heard him try to end the operation that night, the immensity of that hadn’t really hit me until that moment. Ten years of his life — gone. A mission that had defined him — failed.

  “You were worth it, Abigail.”

  I used a napkin to dry off tears I told myself I shouldn’t shed.

  “Could you really do it, though? How would you live with knowing Brady was out there? And Kaya?”

  Mason shook his head. “Brady wasn’t getting out of the country on his own. With the manhunt closing in on him, it was a matter of time until he ran out of resources and got caught. He may have come back for love, but he would have traded your life for his escape. Frank and I planned to set up a sting to get him. You weren’t supposed to see him. I
should have chased after you that night, forced you to listen so you knew how much danger you were in. We didn’t think he’d reached the city yet, or discovered where you were living; he moved much faster than we anticipated. That’s my failure, and I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if anything happened to you.”

  I believed him. “And Kaya?”

  His face darkened and he blinked rapidly. “I assumed she was long gone. Ten years, for a… for a… sex slave. I doubted she was still alive. Regardless of what I told myself, in truth, this was more about catching Brady than saving her. I thought if I couldn’t save her, I could stop others like her from being taken. It wouldn’t be the same, but it would be something.”

  “I see.” I was reminded of what Dr. Davis told me about making tough decisions. If he’d given up on the mission, he would have had to live with it for the rest of his life, never knowing if he did what was right. “You could have made peace with that?”

  He flashed a sad smile. “Well, if you were with me, it would have been a little easier. If I spent my life keeping you safe and making you happy, I think I’d feel pretty good, all things considered.”

  Staring at my food, I took slow, deep breaths. Come on, no tears, Abbi.

  “Hey,” he said. I turned to face him. “You should eat. It’s getting cold.”

  “I will if you will.” I picked up my fork and snared a piece of hash brown.

  “Deal.”

  We ate quickly, devouring our meals. I knew then what I wanted to do. Could he tell?

  When we finished eating, Mason dumped a stack of bills on the table that would give the waitress a heart attack. He walked us out of the diner and I held out my hand for him to take. He squeezed it tightly. We strolled down the sidewalk, though I didn’t know where we were going. I didn’t have anywhere to be that day.

  “So what are you going to do now?” I asked. “Try to find Kaya?”

  “Yes, but not in the same way. For most of the decade when I was searching for Brady, there was no official investigation. There was no trail to follow, no charges to file. After Elspeth escaped, that changed, and when we caught Brady, everything changed again. As we speak there are task forces getting what they can from all the men who were arrested. They’ve lawyered up and will expect deals, but we’ll get a lot of information from them. Somebody could give up Tarquin Turner. And if not, we have his name. We’ll find him.”

  “Good. But what about you? Are you going to help?”

  He nodded. “Frank’s promised to bring me in on any rescue missions. I might not be on the strike team, but if they find her, they might need me. In case she’s… Um. If she’s been trained to think-”

  “If she’s been brainwashed,” I said.

  “Right. So what about you? What are your plans?”

  “College.”

  “Good.”

  We walked for another block before Mason pulled me out of the way of foot traffic. He let go of my hand for the first time since we left the diner and crossed his arms behind his back.

  “Abigail, if you don’t want me to kiss you, go. Go, okay? I want you, and I will do everything to make up for the past. You once gave me a second chance because I said that I think we can help each other. That wasn’t a lie, and I think it’s still true. I know I squandered that second chance. But if you don’t go now, I’m really going to have to kiss you.”

  What matters more? What he deserves? Or what I want?

  “Mason, I’m not going anywhere.”

  He pulled me into his body and wrapped his arms around me. A cool breeze kicked up and I felt the warmth radiating off him. Then his lips met mine and I melted against him. I closed my eyes and let my tongue dance with his. I could have reveled in his embrace forever, but a crack of thunder echoed between the skyscrapers.

  “We should get inside,” said Mason. “We’re a few blocks from my place… If that’s all right with you.”

  So hungry I was for his touch, I nearly agreed, but I stopped myself. “Wait. Just promise me you don’t have any more big secrets.”

  “I promise, Abigail.”

  Raindrops landed on my forehead but I didn’t move. “Tell me now, Mason. I swear to God.”

  “There’s nothing else. I swear it. I know your faith is a lot to ask for, but have faith in the fact that I don’t ever want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

  I nodded, cold rain and joyous tears slipping down my cheeks. “Okay, I believe you.”

  Grinning, Mason held out his hand; I took it, and then we were off, sprinting down the street as the storm opened up and drenched us both.

  By the time we arrived at his apartment, I was shivering so hard my teeth rattled. Mason led me to the washroom, where he turned the shower on full blast. While the water got hot, he pulled my clothes off of me and rubbed me down, using the friction to warm me a little.

  As soon as steam rose from the shower floor, I hopped in, followed by Mason. We kissed under the blazing stream until our bodies shed every trace of the cold. I held my arms up in the air and let him lather my body with lavender-scented soap, then did the same for him. I groaned as he massaged my back, breaking the stiffness until I felt soft and relaxed all over. He asked me to close my eyes so he could shampoo my hair, and when he did he spanked my backside. I yelped from the surprise hit, but sighed contentedly, enjoying the lingering sting.

  “Feel better?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  He shut the water. Mason toweled me off when we got out, drying me first, then himself. I dug through the drawers until I found a hair drier, which I insisted on using. Mason watched patiently, happy to enjoy the sight of my body until my hair no longer dripped cool trails down my back.

  Mason scooped me up in his arms when I was done with the hair drier. I cackled as I felt weightless; he carried me so effortlessly, even down the stairs as he brought me straight to his dungeon. Once there, he set me down, then pointed at the cuffs hanging from the ceiling.

  “Put those on,” he said.

  I knew the moment would come when he’d want to put me in bondage, and that it would be a visceral test of my trust. I wondered, would I hesitate, or have no doubt?

  When he said it, I had my answer: without fear, without the mumblings of demons, I snapped the manacles around my wrists. I had to raise my hands high up above my head to reach. Waves of excitement flooded through me as the locks clicked shut, restraining me, putting me in Mason’s hands. I wanted to be his. I wanted him to live up to his promise, but in order to do so, I had to give him the chance.

  I trembled as Mason traced his fingers along my body; tingles electrified my skin, and my core grew wet with desire.

  “Are you afraid?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “I’m going to change that.”

  I knew he was playing, but it worked: I quivered and pulled at the chains binding me. “You’ll try,” I said.

  Mason kissed my cheek, then grabbed a flogger from a rack of toys. He practiced his swing a few times, letting me see his quick, precise strokes. His swings came closer and closer to making contact: I felt the air parting around my skin as the lashes flew past, then the very tips glanced off my backside.

  When he finally delivered a proper swat, I reeled in pain, heaving forward, but bouncing right back as the chains kept me in place. Mason paused for a moment, letting me compose myself. “How did that feel?” he asked.

  “Good, sir,” I said.

  “You don’t think that’s sick?”

  “If it is, I don’t care.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  Mason kissed the back of my neck, cupping my breasts in his hands. I tilted my head back, wanting to rest it on his shoulder, but Mason gently pushed it back up. He swung the flogger sharply. I cried out, gasping from the agony.

  “Did I tell you to put your head on my shoulder?”

  “No, sir.” I pouted, but his dominant manner curled my toes.

  He began to bombard my ass with a
series of spankings, alternating between each side, making sure no part of my rear lacked for attention. I screamed and writhed throughout the punishment. Though my bruised skin throbbed, my juices dripped.

  When finished, Mason spun me around, twisting the chains holding my arms. He dug in between my legs and smiled when he felt the wetness there.

  “I’ve never seen you this turned on before,” he said.

  “Really?” I asked has he bit softly on my breast, sucking on my hardened nipple.

  “Yeah,” he said after a while.

  It was true: I ached with need as his tongue explored my body. I had worried about being unable to experience the same pleasure, now that I no longer considered my desires forbidden; hearing from Mason, and feeling it within me, brought a relief so pure it made me cry again. I spread my legs, wordlessly begging Mason to touch me there.

  His tongue teased me mercilessly, traveling lower and lower down my stomach, then rising again to plant kisses between my breasts, only to sink down once more. I whined and squirmed, standing on my toes to lift my hips up to him.

  In response, he reached around to spank my bottom once more, reigniting the soreness that had just started to fade. “What did I tell you?” he said.

  “Sorry, sir.”

  “Do you want me to worship your pussy?”

  I blushed involuntarily, my body reacting to the question faster than I could. “Yes, sir.”

  Mason massaged my tender entrance softly, earning from me a deep, blissful moan. “What’s that? I didn’t hear you.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  He dipped a finger into my sopping crevice. “Yes, what? I’m not sure what you’re saying.”

  “Please worship my pussy, sir. Please!”

  He kissed me on the lips, then said, “Nothing would make me happier.”

  I sighed, expecting him to drop to his knees so he could get in position. Instead, he grabbed my ankles and lifted my entire body. I screamed in shock as he settled my thighs onto his shoulders, allowing his mouth to rest flush up against my sensitive lower lips.