Twisted Together

by Pepper Winters

  I placed my hands in my lap. “I understand completely. I was at that place when Q brought me back by giving me his pain. He’d fixed me, but there was still so much unresolved.”

  Suzette smiled. “Maybe, I’ll find someone to save me, too.”

  I shook my head. “Q didn’t save me—well, he did—but ultimately, he just showed me the way. He showed me I had the power to save myself. You have that power inside you, too. You just have to acknowledge it.”

  Tears wobbled in my eyes, overwhelmed with all that’d happened. “Thank you, Suzette. For everything.” Our gaze connected; I poured forth every gratitude. “You helped me when I first arrived. You gave me clues about who Q really was. You’re so much stronger than me in so many ways. I know you’ll get there—because you helped me do the same.”

  She continued to work on my curls. “You didn’t need me. You’re the strong one, Tess. But I’m so happy to have you in my life—happy to have a friend.” Her lips flitted into a sad smile. “And I do know what you mean. I sense it—inside. I’m getting there.”

  One of the island staff came closer. She had a pretty face with thick eyelashes and a diamond pierced through her nose. “Shall I begin, ma’am?”

  Suzette cleared her throat, dispelling our conversation. Her smile broadened, hiding the vulnerability in her eyes. “Yes. We don’t have much time.” Suzette pulled me backward, screeching the stool legs over the tiles, giving the girl room to kneel at my feet and place numerous tools, varnishes, and a foot spa beside me.

  The other staff member came forward with a small trolley, setting up her station by my left side to tend to my fingernails.

  “Wow, I’ve never been so pampered.” I sank my feet into the warm bath for my toes.

  The women worked in soft silence, transforming me from a girl who’d killed yesterday into a pure princess today.

  Never in my life had I bonded with girlfriends this way. I never owned nail varnishes or pretty things—my parents thought they were the devil’s tools. I’d never had a sleepover or done something drastic with my hair.

  My smile fell for what I’d missed out on, but I stopped the thought.

  It makes this all the more special. I was glad it was Suzette helping me get ready. It was fitting because she was my closest friend—living with us, looking after Q and me—family. She was family.

  I drifted in girly bliss. “You do know you’re going to spoil me. I’ll never want to do my own hair or nails again.”

  Suzette and the women giggled. “You’re supposed to be spoiled on your wedding day.” Suzette’s face scrunched in concentration, taking sections of my hair, pinning it in a haphazard way. “Besides, I’ve seen your capabilities with hairdressing and your version of tying it up is a boring ponytail.”

  Only because I’d never had anyone show me how to style. I had a feeling my days of jumpers and jeans were behind me.

  Slowly my tresses morphed from draping down my back to neatly secured in a loose chignon. I looked in the mirror, mesmerized as Suzette somehow preformed a miracle by making my hair stay up with no ties or over use of clips.

  My fingernails were wet with Love’s First Kiss pink nail varnish and I reached carefully to pat the thick French-inspired up do.

  Suzette swatted my hand away. “No touching. It’s up but a bit precarious, so be careful.”

  I frowned, tilting my head to admire it. I looked sophisticated and demure. Not exactly how I would’ve done it, but I was eternally grateful for Suzette’s help. “I’ll be dancing and spending the day in high humidity. Doesn’t it need to stay up without ruining your masterpiece?”

  Her lips curled into a smile. My heart stuttered at the flash of calculation in her eyes. What is she up to?

  “It doesn’t have to be up for long. Besides, let me worry about all of that.” With that cryptic comment, she turned to grab the packages from the bed. “Thank you, ladies. I can take it from here.”

  I stood, carefully stepping over the tiles, trying not to smudge my toenails. Suzette upended a bag onto the mattress.

  My stomach flipped. Littered on the white bedspread, looking sinful and entirely too kinky, was black, lacy lingerie. But it didn’t stop there. Black stockings with a garter belt, a delicate bow stitched into the sheer material, along with a black leather corset with blood-red velvet ties.

  My eyes flew to Suzette. “What is this?”

  She glowed. “I figure you’re going to be the virgin bride, dressed all in white, but the moment Q takes it off—he’ll find his esclave again. Don’t you want to wear it for him?”

  I picked up the boned corset, inspecting the intricate sparrows stitched into the leather. Tears pricked my eyes again at the direct symbolism that I was one of Q’s birds. The only one who stayed for him.

  My heart winged thinking of tonight. I couldn’t wait to have him in bed again.

  “It’s beyond beautiful. But won’t it show under the dress?”

  Suzette shook her head. “No. Leave all the worrying to me. It’s time to get you ready. We don’t have much time.” Shoving the gown from my shoulders, she demanded, “Strip. I need to add concealer to any bruises you still have and dress you in an outfit that’ll make any master hard.”

  “Your body is mine. Your pain is mine.” Q’s voice cut through my thoughts. What would he do when he saw the lingerie? Would he cut it off or leave it?

  Apprehension filled me. What if the sight triggered Q’s darkness? What if he won’t wait any longer? My back tensed, very aware of his innuendoes and veiled promises. Q would expect more from me tonight. It was our wedding night—he wanted to claim something he hadn’t claimed before.

  I swallowed hard. It was irrational to be so afraid, but I was. Nerves tripled my heartbeat.

  Suzette didn’t notice my silence. “I see the way he looks at you, Tess. He won’t be able to contain himself.”

  I laughed. Q containing himself? Never. He operated with passion and rage and dark energy. There would be no containing him—or denying what he wanted.

  But he’s hurt.

  My eyes widened. I didn’t need to be afraid of tonight. There was no way Q would be up for our usual sex. He was injured. I breathed a sigh of relief. “I doubt he’ll be reacting all that much, Suzette. He’s not exactly in a condition to attack me.”

  Suzette unthreaded the corset. Her eyes glinted with the same deviousness as before. “Whatever you say.”

  What the hell is that? My spine stiffened, sensing a hidden agenda. “What are you up to, Suzette?”

  Her lips spread into a wicked smile. “You’ll see. It’s a surprise—for both of you.” Twirling me around, she pressed the warm leather corset against my middle. “The first part is my gift to you. The second…” her voice trailed off. Her fingers tugged on the velvet stays, lacing me inside.

  “The second…” I prompted.

  Her voice was far away, seeing things I didn’t know. “The second part is for him. Purely for him.”

  Goosebumps spread over my skin. The thoughts I’d had of a traditional wedding, complete with rose petals and ring bearers, suddenly seemed like a fantastical illusion. Q had put Suzette in charge. He’d put a woman who’d lived with him for years, who’d lived through horror, in charge of a romantic event.

  Did she even know the meaning of romance? Had the word been beaten and raped out of her leaving her tainted toward fairy-tales?

  Trust her. Let her do this.

  Expelling a shaky breath, I whispered, “If it’s for him then I’m sure it will be amazing and he’ll love it.”

  A minute ticked past, silence heavy between us. She finished securing my corset, then hugged me fiercely. “Thank you for trusting me and not asking questions.”

  “Thank you for organising my wedding.”

  We shared a smile. I didn’t care what she’d planned. In a few short hours, I would be Mrs. Mercer and nothing could ruin my happiness.

  “Come on. Let’s finish. Can’t have Q waiting.” Suzette p
assed me the stockings.

  “You know him better than that, Suzette. He’d be down here dragging me over his shoulder if I’m a minute late.”

  Suzette laughed. “In that case—we better hurry.”

  The rest of the time flew—beautifying me for my nuptials.

  My stomach rolled. I’m going to be sick.

  My lungs stuck together. I can’t breathe.

  My heart galloped. I’m getting married.

  Music drifted across the island, dipping and lilting with the Seychelles breeze. I strained to hear more—to count how many guests would witness my union to Q—to envision the type of ceremony Suzette had put together.

  Heading to a wedding that I hadn’t planned or had any idea of what would happen twisted my stomach, but excitement existed, too.

  I’m really doing this. I’m about to get married.

  Sparrows, finches, and doves lived in my ribcage, trapped tightly beneath a corset etched with their fellow kin. Their wings made me float across the patio next to the seahorse pool all the while tickling me with nervous feathers.

  I looked down at the white dress cocooning my body. Suzette had been elevated to goddess in my mind. She’d transformed me from lacklustre girl to flawless mannequin.

  The dress was a mixture of lace and silk and taffeta—all in different shades of white. My right shoulder was bare. My left shoulder was adorned with a white rosette draping down the front of the bodice with exquisite lace.

  My hips flared with a see-through organza train, the fabric whispering over the heaviness of silk. The elegance was perfect, the craftsmanship superb. And Suzette was right. Not one sign of the leather corset or lingerie I wore was visible.

  The only thing ruining the virgin image was the black sprig of feathers in my hair, glittering with onyx gems.

  Suzette beamed, holding my face in her hands. “You look incredible.”

  A staff member held a mirror for me to check any last minute issues. I took one last disbelieving glimpse. My eyes were globes of grey serenity, highlighted with silver eye-shadow. My lips were a blood-red, glistening as if I’d turned vampire and favoured the remnants of my last meal.

  I’d never looked so pretty and for a moment sadness fell over me. My parents would never see me marry the man of my dreams—my friends would never witness my transformation from girl to woman.

  It doesn’t matter. None of this is for them. It’s for him. For me.

  Patting my hair one last time, I said, “Thank you so much, Suzette. I would never have been able to pull this together.” Even the red lipstick, which I thought clashed to begin with, worked. Instead of cheapening the pureness of my attire it added a pop of dramatic—a flare of danger.

  She stepped to my side, looping an arm through mine. “I’m so glad you’re happy. That’s all I wanted.” Her body tensed. “Um…I haven’t asked this yet—and feel free to say no—but…I want to walk you down the aisle.” Her eyes flickered with reckless hope, tangled with already felt rejection. “If you’d prefer a man, Frederick is here, and he said he’d gladly give you away to his best friend.” She looked away, hiding the pain in her face, fully expecting me to choose Fred over her.

  My heart hurt to see such uncertainty in a friend who’d been nothing but a rock to me. It was time I took the role of supporter, guiding her to the emotion she wanted most of all—freedom from her past.

  Grabbing her in a hug, I squeezed hard, cursing the boning of the corset. “I want you to do it. You’d be doing me an incredible honour, giving me away to the man we both love.”

  Her heart-shaped face shattered with happy moisture. She pulled away, dabbing at her makeup, practically pushing her tears back inside. She wore a powder grey dress, matching my style with one shoulder and organza train. Her beautiful brown hair was coiled into four thick curls down her back.

  She was so pretty. Franco will notice. He has to notice.

  I rolled my eyes, thinking of the clueless man. He needed a push in the right direction if he didn’t get the memo today—but I had a feeling Suzette would tell him loud and clear. Weddings had a way of bringing people together—cutting through the unsaid mess, letting the truth blare.

  Suzette once again looped her arm through mine. “Ready to get married?”

  Lungs. Stomach. Heart.

  I swallowed hard.

  “Tu es à moi, esclave.” You’re mine. Q’s voice whispered through my mind, granting me serenity.

  Yes, I’m ready. Ready to change my world forever.

  My nerves disappeared, leaving me with utmost confidence and love. “Yes.”

  Leaving the gorgeous chalet, we made our way around the seahorse pool, heading inland, following the musical map coming from the venue.

  The white sand had been swept from the boardwalk and scattered frangipani petals led the way. Staff members stood like sentries in equal distance, smiling as we passed. We had no others in our procession. Just me and Suzette.

  I held no posies or veil over my face. The dress was all the embellishing I needed—that and the ‘Q’ branded into my neck.

  I focused inward, thinking about the crescent moon. I’d known Q was in danger. I’d known and stupidly believed he was strong enough, protected enough, to stay safe. I hadn’t planned on him playing roulette with his life. Or sacrificing himself for me.

  He would’ve died protecting me. And although it was romantic to have that sort of power, it was a huge responsibility.

  “You okay?” Suzette squeezed my arm.

  Her touch wrenched me from my thoughts. “Yes, sorry.”

  I held my hand out, admiring my wing-inspired ring. After everything we’d been through, I hadn’t had time to buy Q a ring. “I’ve failed in the only job I had for this wedding.”

  Suzette glanced at my ring.

  “I didn’t get him one. What can I put on his finger after our vows?”

  Nothing. You’ll have to wait till you’re home.

  We turned a corner, leaving the density of the palm trees to find a large white marquee, resting on the sands edge. The waves looked like turquoise glass, smacking gently onto sand—a silky ripple.

  “Stop worrying. I have everything under control.” Suzette grinned. “All you need to worry about is not tripping up the aisle.”

  We stopped outside the marquee. Two men in white uniforms smiled, pulling back the flaps of the venue.

  “Ready to go to him?” Suzette whispered as we drifted forward, trading island sun for cool shadows. The tented world welcomed, hushing our footsteps. Tears glossed my eyes, imprinting the rapturous beauty.

  “Suzette—” My red glitter high-heels wedged into the softness of the carpet, jerking us to a stop. “You did all this? It’s incredible.”

  “You deserved a bit of paradise. I’m glad you like it.”

  I couldn’t take it in. Too picturesque. Too perfect. The space was large, housing a row of five or six black chairs. Most were unoccupied, waiting for their owners who were part of the ceremony. It was small, intimate. Not that I’d expected crowds—or that Q would permit it.

  The walls were covered with white satin drapery, making it seem like we’d stepped into a cloud. The ceiling held bolts of ivory fabric, swooping low, creating intimacy.

  I’ll never forget this.

  Then my eyes landed on him.

  And the room paled entirely. I no longer cared about drapery or flowers. All I cared about was him. The man I was destined for.

  My master. Husband. Lover. Protector.

  My heart was never mine. It was his along. I’d been the guardian. Now he’d claimed it.

  Him.

  Q stood at the top of the aisle flanked by Franco and Frederick; the two groomsman wore matching grey suits, mirroring Suzette’s dress.

  Q on the other hand wore white. His dark hair had been styled into the same pelt-like cut I remembered. His body stood proud and majestic, sheathed in a white blazer, waistcoat, and trousers. The only splash of darkness was a black tie. He look
ed incredible. He looked too much—too priceless to be real.

  The moment our eyes met I felt faint, delirious.

  He’s mine. I’m his.

  I wanted to fly up the aisle and imprison him in my arms. From here he didn’t look hurt. From here he looked strong and savage—ready to kill or conduct a quiet business affair. He bordered the line of aggression so effortlessly.

  His gaze stayed transfixed on me, his face locked into an unreadable mask.

  Then the music changed.

  It echoed with haunting bass notes, sorrowful flutes, and empowering chords.

  A woman I didn’t know stood off to the side. Her polished ebony hair fell in heavy sheets over her shoulders, threaded with silver feathers. Her dark eyes assessed me, an appraising—almost haughty look—on her face. Her dress was grey too, shorter, fuller around her calves and detailed with pearl buttons on the bodice.

  A smile transformed her coolness with warmth. Bowing her head, she raised a microphone to her lips and began to sing.

  It was as if her voice carried every weapon imaginable—destroying me all at once. I knew her voice. Her passion, the rasp, the melancholy hope.

  I shivered as the lyrics drilled their way into my heart.

  I have no more need to hide—not now that I have you

  I once had a loveless life—but now I’m falling true

  You waltzed into my world—making me turn tame

  You turned my wickedness into trust even without your name

  The verse was about us—sang by the woman who’d recorded Q’s other songs—the same songs he’d played when I first arrived—the haunting melodies encouraging me to find the true Q—to hunt for the monster within.

  The full circle on finally understanding his favourite artist stole strength from my legs.

  Ever since I’d met Q, I’d been pulled deeper into darkness. I’d willingly embraced everything he’d given and would never be free.

  I never want to be free.

  “Let’s go,” Suzette whispered, tugging me forward, guiding me one step at a time. The humid island air glimmered with awareness. I never unlocked gazes with Q.