Beauty: Part 1: Blaire's World (Beauty's Duet #1)
Page 5
I took the steps down into the long, tiled corridor, coming to a stop at the closed door to the dungeon. Fear that once coursed through my veins at the very thought of this room was replaced with a morbid enthusiasm. Hart was not far behind me, and although he gave the impression of a man following, I think he was silently pushing and urging me forward.
My hand shook as I gripped the door knob and turned it, pressing the heavy, steel door open. For a moment, my breath caught with appreciation. Algis was still hanging in the middle of the room, but now he was awake, dark, sunken, evil-filled eyes scowled at me from beneath his stringy hair. Through the ball-gag, he mumbled something unintelligible.
There was no hesitation as I stepped into the room. Memories tried to jostle for position in my mind: the floggings, the beatings, the intrusion of his unwanted body in mine. Blood, sweat, tears. A growl worked its way up my throat, and my fist clenched the handle of the knife a little tighter, while my other hand went to my head, tugging with frustration and pulling strands free from the loose braid. A large, masculine hand took my wrist, and my eyes, which had clamped shut, snapped open.
“Let them in.” Hart released my wrist and tapped my temple with a finger. “Let them in and unleash your monster.”
Let them in? He had no idea the damage it would do to my mind to release those horrid memories.
“Oh, hello there,” Hart said in a cheerful voice, his attention now on Algis.
More garbled noise came from behind the gag.
“Let me get that for you.” Hart moved behind Algis and unclipped the straps on the leather, then wrenched the ball from his mouth with little finesse. Algis snarled with pain and worked his jaw.
“What the fuck is going on? Who the fuck are you?”
Hands sinking casually into his pockets, Hart stood before Algis, rocking on his feet and looking proud as punch.
“Of course, excuse my bad manners. My name is Hart Cordell.” Algis’ face paled, and he wriggled in his chains, his toes just scraping the cold concrete beneath his feet.
“Hart?” Did his voice hold a tremor?
“I have a feeling you’ve heard of me, hmmm?” Hart purred. “And if you’ve heard of me, then you know my employer, which means you know why I’m here.”
“I-I-I have no idea why you are here,” Algis stammered.
Hart tsked Algis. “Lies are for the weak, Algimas Bakaitis.”
“Whatever you’ve heard is wrong.”
“Don’t bother trying to convince me. Decena will be your judge, jury, and most likely, executioner.”
“D-D-D Decena?”
“Algimas, you shouldn’t have fucked with Charlie’s family.” Hart’s tone was almost sympathetic.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Chuckling, he leaned forward, then in the silence of the dungeon lit with bright, fluorescent tubes, he whispered, “Gina.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but Algis paled even further. Hart’s grin widened to something real and honest as he meandered away, glancing over the walls and countertops of horrors.
“Let me down, and I’ll willingly go with you. We can get this shit sorted out, once and for all. Let me deal with Beauty, and then we’ll be on our way.” Although Algis seemed nervous, even fearful of Hart and this Charlie Decena, the way he spat out “beauty” was with hate and venom, the same hate and venom he always bestowed upon me.
“Hmmm,” Hart murmured. “Therein lies the problem.”
“What fucking problem?”
“I must confess, Algimas, I enjoy a good fuck as much as the next man.” His fingers danced over the sex toys, knives, and chains presented like a macabre surgeon’s table. “The vast difference between me and you, Algimas, is I don’t need to rape and abuse women to get off.” Algis’ face reddened with anger, and for the first time in a long time, I smiled. “Beauty here,” Hart said with a soft inflection in his tone that made my name sound like something else, something new, something treasured, “she is owed her time with you before Decena takes what’s left. Love, why don’t you get started?”
Love? If my heart weren’t tethered behind thorns and shackles, it might have taken flight and soared.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Algis demanded, spluttering with indignation.
My gaze raked over his body, not with lust, but repulsion. He wasn’t just ugly on the inside, he was ugly on the outside, too. Gangly limbs and sharp shoulders that stooped forward reminded me of a vulture, his hooked nose not unlike the bird’s beak. He was a scavenger, too, preying on the vulnerable and weak.
Where would I start? What would I do? His ribs jutted out from his chest, his hip bones were hard and bony on his skinny frame, and his dick hung limply between his hairy legs. There, perhaps I should start there. My fingers tightened around the blade. I could cut it off and jam it down his throat. It would at least silence the rubbish falling from his obscene mouth right now. Perhaps I should ask Hart to put the ball gag back in place, but at the same time, I didn’t want to silence his screams of agony.
“When I have trouble deciding,” came Hart’s voice right by my ear, “I find it sometimes easier to start small and work my way up to the big finale. What was the first thing he took from you?”
My head hung to one side in thought, giving Hart room to rest his chin on my shoulder. The bristles from his unshaven jaw caught in my wayward strands of hair. My concentration was too deep to be concerned by how close he was once again standing. The first thing Algis took from me? Her . . . he took her from me. Then he took her virginity. Wrists bound, back pressed down on the stainless-steel table while Matis secured the cuffs trapping her wrists above her head. Unwilling legs pried open, her nakedness right there for Algis’ observation as she sobbed for him to please stop. Then he forced himself inside her, fucking her brutality until the blood made the dry invasion smoother but no less painful. A tear slipped over my lashes at the memory. Lucy, poor Lucy. My hand rose to my ear, tugging at a phantom pain there. Pain? Another memory pushed forward.
“The only shiny objects your body shall adorn will be chains, my sweet, innocent Beauty.”
Earrings ripped from their lobes, as devastating screams filled the dungeon and blood trickled down her neck. That was the first thing he took. Her fucking earrings. Spinning, I moved to the table of horrors and looked over the objects that had been used to torture me. Reluctantly, I placed the knife on the table and picked up a pair of surgical scissors.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Algis screamed. “Put them down now, or I swear once I’m free I’ll jam them up your pussy so hard they’ll split you in half.” The threat was real, but I took comfort in the fact he was chained, and I was not.
Moving forward I reached for his hair, and pulled his head to one side. Algis struggled and Hart swiftly moved in behind him, holding his head in place with rough hands.
Tugging on his sagging earlobe, I held the scissors up while Algis continued to scream obscenities, flailing about in his chains. Excitement made my hands quiver with impatient fervor right before I cut his ear, the sharp blade of the scissors snipping through the flesh like butter. Screams filled with obscenities quickly changed to screams of agony, and I smiled as blood quickly pooled at the wound, before dripping with morbid beauty down his neck. The flesh between my fingers felt supple and slippery, and I threw it to the concrete floor. Moving to the other side, I cut the other fleshy lobe, finding Algis’ cries helped drown out the memories of my torture. While the world around me echoed with sound, my mind was blissfully quiet.
Blood coated my fingers, and I flicked it away as I let the scissors slip from my hand. The moment was hypnotic, my mind, heart, and body at peace for the first time in a long time. Hart watched me with pure rapture. He liked my monster, and oddly enough, so did I. The room around me began to soften with a fog-like mist, and the sound of faint music played from somewhere far away. It wasn’t pop music, but classical, piano, the notes melodic and light. My peaceful min
d played over the image of a girl dancing, her long blonde hair twisted into a tight bun, her face youthful and innocent. It was her. Enthralled by her presence in my thoughts, I winced at the sound of Algis’ screams that tried to take the moment away from me. Turning, I moved swiftly from the room, down the gloomy hallway and up the narrow stairs, pushing through the door at the top and back out into the light.
HART
Watching Beauty’s retreating form, I let go of the greasy hair I’d been holding onto in a vice like grip and let Algimas’ face fall forward. A wretched wail fell from his lips, drivel mingled with sobs that made no sense, filled the otherwise silence of the room. My heart was beating heavy and fast, my cock aching, balls tight. Watching Beauty cut into Algimas had been magical. Moving around to face the snivelling arsehole, I rotated my neck to work out the kinks and stood before him.
“You’ve no doubt made many bad decisions in your miserable life,” I murmured, catching his attention. Red rimmed eyes greeted me. “But, Gina and Beauty would have to be your most regretful decisions, I would say, hmmm?”
“Fuck you.”
Chuckling at his complete lack of originality, I pulled my fist back and punched the man, his rib cracking beneath my knuckles. Algimas’ screams were an arena-worthy performance, music to my ears. I wanted to give him more, I wanted to be the one to hurt him, the dance between victim and predator a delicate transfer of misery and pain. To quiet my own monster, I needed it, but he was Beauty’s, and I wouldn’t take from her.
Turning, I left the room, curious at what that faraway look had been in Beauty’s gaze before she abruptly fled. Pinky promise . . . shaking my head, I ascended the stairs. It had been such a childish request, though she was definitely all woman, and when she presented me with her little finger, there hadn’t been anything but a grave expression on her face. It was important to her, and that made it important to me.
I found her in the living room again, pressing almost feverishly at the buttons of a hand held remote, pointing it towards the impressive stereo system mounted into the wall. Huffing with frustration, she threw the remote which hit the sofa with an unsatisfying thump. Moving forward, I studied the system and found it could be blue-toothed to a device. I picked up the remote, turned it on, then pulled my cell phone from my pocket.
“What are you in the mood for?” I asked.
She spun to face me, as if only now realizing I was in the room with her.
“Beethoven, ‘Moonlight Sonata’.”
The request surprised me, but I searched for the piece of music, found it, connected to Algimas’ system, and pressed play. Turning the speakers up, I watched the euphoria fall upon Beauty’s features.
“She danced,” she whispered.
“Who?” I asked, utterly intrigued.
Those beautiful doe eyes found mine, and the soft, peaceful smile that graced her lips almost knocked me from my feet.
“Lucy.”
The name wasn’t much more than a whisper, but it snagged my attention as I watched Beauty begin to dance. Not like one might do at a night club, but classical ballet. Her feet moved, rising to her toes, somewhat robotic at first before soon becoming graceful and fluid. Her arms extended, almost like wings, her fingers hypnotic with their nimble movement, still coated in Algis’ blood. The arch of her neck seemed to lengthen, and her entire body became light as a feather. She flowed like some sort of a nymph around the room, and I was captivated. There had been a day when I vowed I’d never be held captive again, but here, in this moment, she had me. Beauty ensnared me, this perplexing combination of delicate and violent, and she wasn’t even trying. More bewildering was the fact I wasn’t fighting it.
Collapsing back into the leather sofa, I watched, unable to look away, her rapturous performance much more powerful than any strip show I’d ever encountered. Lucy. She was the girl before Beauty, the innocent little flower Algimas had stolen and destroyed. No, he hadn’t destroyed her, he’d simply buried her under hate and pain, allowing Beauty to come forth. I’d heard the saying “dance like no one is watching,” but I’d never found any sentiment or understanding in those words until now. Beauty danced as if she hadn’t a care in the world and I watched her as if she could be my world. The thought slammed into me hard, knocking the breath from my lungs. This girl, who I knew nothing about, a slave, who held my attention like no other, she was more: more than a casual fuck, more than a friend, more than a lover, she had the power to be my everything.
The song finished and moved on to another, and while Beauty’s mind and heart was willing, her body quickly became exhausted. Her arms were limp, her breathing labored, and a sheen of perspiration made the flyaway strands of her white-blonde hair stick to her neck and face. Using the remote, I stopped the music, and as if cutting the strings on a marionette puppet, her tired arms dropped, and she stilled.
“Let’s eat.”
***
The scent of grilled steak and baked potatoes filled the kitchen. There were other meats and ingredients filling the fridge and pantry, but I stuck to something I knew well enough not to fuck up. My knife skills were unparalleled, but throw me in a kitchen with ovens, measuring cups, and whisks, and I failed spectacularly. Beauty sat at the kitchen breakfast bar, practically salivating over the food I’d just placed down in front of her. As soon as a steak knife and fork were within reach, she began to devour the meal as if it were her last. Lifting a longneck of some foreign beer to my lips, I watched in fascination as she ate much like she danced, like no one was watching.
“I only remember bits about her,” she said through a mouthful of food. “My thoughts are muddled, and I’m not sure what’s real and what I’ve made up.”
She was talking about herself as if she and Lucy were two separate people. The trauma she had suffered no doubt causing her to compartmentalize each identity as a way to protect herself. It was something with which I was intimately acquainted. That time in my life was someone else’s hell. It was almost as though another boy had suffered, and from that hell, I’d been born. Hart Cordell, murderer, torturer, your worst nightmare.
“What do you remember?” I wondered out loud, intrigued by everything that was Lucy and Beauty.
She shrugged, ignoring the beer I’d set before her and taking a long drink of water. “Dancing, of course . . . school, but just bits and pieces, like fuzzy photographs, not continuous movies.” Her brow crinkled in the middle with thought. “Lucy told me about a woman, and I feel like she’s in my memories, but then again maybe I created her from the things Lucy told me. She’s Spanish, old, her hair is grey, and she’s full of curves.” Beauty scrunched up her nose and gave her head a sharp shake. Looking at me through her thick lashes, chin lowered and a firm frown in place, she whispered, “Do you think I’m crazy?”
“This world you and I live in is broken, Beauty. It would be highly unusual if your mind wasn’t a little broken, too.”
She nodded thoughtfully, unperturbed by the fact that I had just admitted she might be a little bit mad. Maybe she would just as happily embrace that madness. I knew I was prepared to, in fact, I found it quite endearing. Leaning her head to one side, she studied me carefully. “You said I have a monster in me. I can feel it.” Her hand pressed to her chest, and she rubbed as if whatever lay within it caused her pain. “I think my monster lives because of Algis, it wants to hurt him for hurting me.” Beauty was quiet for long moments before she continued, “Is that the same as your monster? Did someone hurt you to make your monster want revenge?”
Her boldness to ask such a question shouldn’t have surprised me, yet it did. I wasn’t accustomed to such candid questions. Beauty was undoubtedly intelligent, but every now and again, she’d speak with such frank honesty it was almost childlike. The layers to this wounded doll were enthralling. My world was all kinds of fucked up, and the monster inside me was born from pure evil. It was a part of me now, wrapped around my soul and spread through my heart with such brutal and savage beauty.
One of her dainty hands went to her own chest and she rubbed soothingly, as if trying to pacify the rage within. A crease appeared between her brows as she concentrated on whatever thought was churning away behind those pretty eyes.
“I know that’s not the way it’s supposed to be.”
Almost missing the whispered words, I pushed my empty plate aside and leaned forward.
“What’s not the way it’s supposed to be?”
“Sex.” Her pale cheeks deepened to a beautiful, red glow.
“Really?” I arched a brow her way, somewhat taken aback by the fact this was something she wanted to talk about.
“Lucy had an orgasm once, with a boy she danced with.”
Glazed eyes full of memories left mine to search for something over my shoulder, something far away and almost out of reach.
“Don’t leave me hanging, Beauty,” I purred when she didn’t continue.
“Lucy’s dance partner was older, twenty maybe, and she had just turned fifteen. He touched her, used his hand to bring her pleasure.” It was far too young for a boy who was practically a man to be touching her. It galled me to think that so many men in her life had taken advantage of her, even before Algimas had taken the mother lode. Beauty’s lids lowered as she watched me under dark, sweeping lashes. “She liked it. It’s not supposed to be like Algis made it, he is a rapist who got off on pain.” Pools of grief filled her big eyes for just a fleeting moment. “He took what wasn’t his to take.” Pushing aside the sorrow, anger contorted her stunning features. “I fucking hate him. Why can’t I take his last breath? Her monster was snapping to be unleashed again, so soon after she’d begun her assault on Algimas.