by Ella Miles
Anger—it’s such a complicated emotion. You can be angry for so many reasons. You can choose to be angry. You can be angry because you think life has dealt you an unfair hand. Angry because someone betrayed you. Angry because someone is preventing you from getting something you want.
Palmer isn’t angry for any of those reasons. She’s angry because it hides her pain. She’s lost the woman she loves, the only person who matters to her, and now she’s blaming me for her loss.
I understand.
I feel the same way. I feel the pain at the loss of my friend, Lucy. If someone had hurt Siren, killed her, I would kill anyone who could have prevented her death, because anger gives you more control than pain and fear does.
Anger gives you a reason to take action. To do something to feel in control.
Pain leads to mourning. And while it can heal you, mourning doesn’t let you feel in control. Mourning is letting yourself feel the loss of the person you love; it’s letting it consume you. It’s not moving on, but it’s accepting what happened.
Palmer isn’t ready to mourn. The pain would overwhelm her. But she can deal with her anger. And I’m going to be the one who feels all of her fury.
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” I say as she pushes the end of the cigarette into a second spot on my skin. I don’t flinch. I don’t feel anything physical, just the hot pulse of her rage.
I don’t let her anger in. That’s not how I’m going to win. I could get angry that she’s preventing me from rescuing Siren. I could let that anger build inside me and turn it into strength to get free of these heavy chains. I could use that rage to take out the dozens of men on guard us above. I could use it to find a way to hunt Siren down and save her.
But it would require me to kill Palmer in the process, something I can’t do. I owe it to Lucy. Lucy left Palmer because she loved her and didn’t want her to watch her die. She didn’t want Palmer to suffer with her. I can’t kill the woman Lucy loved.
So I can’t let my anger overwhelm me like Palmer is doing. I have to stay strong. I have to let Palmer break down. Only then will her pain overtake her anger. Only then will I be able to convince her to let me go.
Palmer’s eyes drag down my body, taking in all the scars covering my skin like tattoos I never wanted.
“Obviously, you understand physical pain,” she says.
I nod. “There is nothing you can do to me that can hurt me.”
She bites her lip, and I see that she’s not here. She’s thinking about something else, not about me.
I could let her be in her own head. It would prolong the pain from happening. But I need her to break, and I need her to break now. Every second I’m here is another second Julian or Bishop could be hurting Siren. I can’t waste one second.
“Palmer? You were saying? Or are you so distracted by my hot body that you can’t even imagine hurting me?”
She hisses, her viciousness coming back. “I can see why Lucy loved you. You and I are more alike than we are different. Luckily, that means I know how to hurt you. I know your weaknesses because they are the same as mine.”
I look into her muddy brown eyes. I flick past the anger, trying to find the pain, but it’s buried so deep within her that I’m not sure I can bring it up to the surface. I have to try—for Siren and Lucy.
“Then do it. Hurt me. Take vengeance on my flesh. Do it for Lucy,” I growl.
Palmer snaps. She slaps me across the cheek, her anger pushing her to do something she’s probably never done before.
I hear the slap, but I don’t feel it. I’m sure it was vicious. I’m sure she used all of her force trying to hurt me. I’m sure my face is red from her handprint. But I don’t feel it. I rarely feel physical pain, and right now, I’m so focused on Siren that Palmer could shoot me and throw me into a fire, and I wouldn’t feel it. All I want is to go find Siren.
“Don’t talk about Lucy,” she says.
“Why? She was mine before she was yours. I can talk about Lucy all I want.”
Slap.
SLAP.
I huff, my chest rising and falling hard at the double hit. I feel the familiar surge of my own anger taking hold. I’m not used to letting people hurt me without trying to fight back. But I won’t fight back. Even if I get free of my chains, I won’t hurt Palmer, for Lucy.
“Lucy loved me,” she says.
“And before you, she loved me,” I say calmly back. It’s true, but I only say it to feed her anger. The only way she’ll let her pain in is when her anger is at its height. When all of her walls are down, and her rage is on full display, that’s my chance to break her.
This time, it’s a punch. My head snaps again to the side, as her force hits my jaw. It’s a good punch, but it will hurt her hand more than my jaw.
“Fuck,” she curses, shaking her hand.
I raise a brow, staring at her. “Is that all you got? All you are going to do to the man who took the love of your life from you? The man who loved her before you and then discarded her like she was nothing.” Lucy, forgive me. I always loved you, but I’m going to say whatever it takes to get back to Siren.
Palmer frowns, stepping back like she’s considering my words. There is no snarky comeback, and that scares me. My comments are meant to rile her up, to let her inner beast out, not to make her introspective.
She pulls out her phone.
“What are you doing? Can’t hurt me on your own?” I ask.
I’m right. I realize it as soon as she speaks on the phone. She’s calling down her reinforcements.
Fuck.
I curse, not because I’m afraid of what the men upstairs can do to me. They can physically hurt me more than Palmer can, especially in an unfair fight where I’m chained up. But I need Palmer to be the one to hurt me. I need her to be the one who touches me, to make it personal. That way, she unleashes her anger. If she stands back and watches other people hurt me, I’ll never break her.
I hear the men from upstairs file down the stairs.
Palmer grins, thinking she’s won.
“Really? This is what you want? To watch someone else do your dirty work? I thought you were stronger than that. I thought we were the same. I thought you took care of your own business,” I say.
She leans forward until her breath is on my ear.
“Scared, Zeke? I thought you weren’t afraid of anything. Physical pain doesn’t scare you. These men can hurt you more than I ever could, so you should be afraid.”
She steps back, but she’s still less than a foot away from me. I could head-butt her, knee her, hurt her if I wanted to, but I don’t. I have to protect her while going after Siren.
My eyes glance behind her at the three men who now occupy the basement with us. One has biceps that make him look like a professional baseball player. I’m sure he can punch like he’s hitting a home run. Another is slim and lanky; I don’t have to worry about him being able to rip flesh from my bones.
But the third man is a monster. His biceps bulge, his shoulders are built, his thighs thick—he’s as big as me. I know what I’m capable of. Even if he isn’t as talented as me, it just takes muscles and a little bit of darkness in your heart to be able to do damage to another human being’s body. I check his eyes; he has the darkness.
He may not be as skilled as I am at torture, but he doesn’t have to be to leave more scars on my body.
I cut back to Palmer, “I’m not afraid of being physically hurt. Your men can torture me all day; I know how to withstand it. But if you prevent me from saving the woman I love, you will regret it. When the anger is gone and replaced with the pain, you’ll realize the woman I love was there when the woman you love died. I know in my heart she did everything she could to protect and save her. You’ll regret letting her suffer when you come to your senses, when you realize torturing me won’t bring her back. You’ll regret this.”
She grinds her teeth and breathes out her anger through her nostrils. Her eyes flicker side to si
de.
Did I get through to her?
“I won’t regret this,” she says, and steps back. All the way back, out of reach. Her eyes never leave mine.
I’m the one who breaks eye-contact when I close my eyes, going to my hardened space that will protect me until the physical pain is over. Palmer may think she’s tough, but she’s never seen torture. She’s never seen what is about to happen to me. Maybe that’s enough to break her.
My mind flickers to Siren, thinking I should stay with her to help me get through the pain. My love for her will get me through.
I feel the first punch to my stomach. My body reacts. My abs tighten, my body falls back, but I can’t slump all the way back as the chains grip my wrists and ankles, keeping me in place. But the part I hate the most is the sound I make—a wretched sound as my lungs burn trying to get air, and my stomach clenches, trying to keep from vomiting from the force.
I hate that I made a sound.
I hate that I showed that I can feel physical pain.
I can’t associate this painful moment with Siren, so I can’t let her save me.
Kai is my next thought. The last time I was tortured, she saved me. But I won’t let me save her either.
Lucy?
No.
I won’t let any woman save me. I won’t let any man save me either. I’ve withstood torture before. This is no different. I just have to go to my dark place, and hope that when this is over, I can escape the darkest depths of my heart and return to Siren.
5
Siren
I surrender.
I never thought I’d say those words, but Julian did. From the moment I started working for him, he knew. He knew that eventually, I’d be his.
I take a deep breath, gathering courage from all the oxygen in the room. Taking on the strength of any ghosts, spirits, and souls. Gaining power from all the gods and divine beings. Pulling from all the crystals, celestial beings, and deities. Calling on all the martyrs and saints. I need the strength of all of them to survive this, whether I believe in their existence or not. And even then, it won’t be enough.
The only person who could help me is the one person who is isn’t here—Zeke.
“One step at a time, my little Aria. I wish you just saying the words would be enough and we could fuck like lovers, but you aren’t ready yet.”
My eyes cut through him.
“Kiss me like you want me. That’s the first step to falling in love with me,” Julian says.
There it is. He wants me to love him. Not a chance in hell.
I step forward. He stays still, waiting for me this time.
I can’t do this.
I can’t kiss him.
I can’t fuck him.
I don’t even think I could lie there and let him fuck me, but what he’s asking for is so much more than just letting him violate me. He’s asking me to give him myself.
I inch closer, except my inches are more like millimeters. At this rate, it’s going to take me all year to get close enough to kiss him. Fine by me.
“Siren,” Julian says.
I freeze. He never calls me Siren. I’m always Aria, never Siren.
“Siren,” Julian says again, and I realize what he is doing. He’s trying to make it easier for me.
I lean forward, as he says the name that Zeke calls me. I can feel the heat of his breath, but I can’t move the final inch.
“I can’t,” I breathe. I can’t fuck him like he’s Zeke. I can’t grab him and kiss him. I just can’t…
Julian nods. “I always knew you had a weakness. I just didn’t realize it would be a man.”
He walks behind me, setting the glass down on the bedside table behind me. I still don’t stare at the bed. I can’t. I won’t. There is no bed. Nothing is going to happen.
“What are you going to do? What do you want?” I breathe out, my voice quieter than ever. I’m usually strong and determined. In a normal situation, I can fight back. But fighting back this time means death to the one person I love above all else. I know in my heart that if I fight, Julian will go after the person I love. He will go after my “weakness.” He’ll go after Zeke.
Julian doesn’t look at me. “I thought you were a romantic candles and flowers type of girl, Siren.”
There is a crack of lighting overhead. I jump at the sound and turn my head in the direction. And then I see it—the bed.
It’s the most exquisite, romantic bed I’ve ever seen. I didn’t think beds could be romantic, but this one is. This one is clouds of white pillows covered in gold trim. Pink and red rose petals are scattered all over it. The candles illuminate it and the stars sparkle down on top of it, making the bed is every woman’s dream. This bed would make two people feel like the only two people in the world.
I turn my head, trying to understand how the evil monster behind me could ever want to make love to a woman in a bed like this. I search, but I no longer see Julian out of the corner of my eye.
Fuck.
I turn quickly, but it’s too late.
The door opens, and as I expected, four men run in, each grabbing one of my limbs before I can fight back. I’m tied to the beautiful bed that should be my heaven. Instead, it will be my hell.
The men retreat as quickly as they came, and I’m left alone with Julian.
“We will start slowly, with something easy to surrender to. I thought I’d never have you until you gave yourself to me completely, but I realize now, it will take time for you to want me. Which is why I won’t discuss all the vows and promises you have made to me, yet. Right now, we will focus on the first step…” his voice trails off. Maybe my brain is shutting down in preparation for what is about to happen.
I begin praying to every god I don’t believe in.
None of them come, none of them save me.
Zeke…
I need you. Please, save me.
I stare at the door in the corner, begging it to open. For Zeke to be on the other side. He’d be here if he could, but something is stopping him. Something is keeping him away.
I feel a needle stab into my arm. My mind ignites into a blur of images.
“This will help make you mine,” Julian says. At least I think it’s Julian.
Fuck, my head is spinning. I can’t focus. Between the drugs and being tied up, I won’t be able to fight. I won’t be able to stop it. I won’t be able to tell Zeke I did everything to keep him off of me, to prevent this from happening.
I’m right there, Siren. I’m right there.
I close my eyes, and I hear Zeke’s voice so clearly. I feel him everywhere. My anchor keeping me out of the darkness Julian is trying to pull me into.
Don’t fight me; you know you love me. You know you want me. Let me make you feel so good.
Suddenly I know how Zeke is going to save me. He’s going to ensure Julian isn’t the one who fucks me. He’s going to take over my dreams, my thoughts, my desires—all I see now is Zeke.
“You want it rough, Siren?”
I shiver at the thought of my big bad man taking me roughly. I love having Zeke both ways. Slow and tender, and rough and fast. I can feel the walls of my pussy tightening at the thought of Zeke entering me fast. Of him pushing me to my limits. Of his teeth sinking into my flesh. His fingers fisting my hair, pulling it hard, bringing all the blood to each part of my body he marks.
“Yes,” I hiss. I want it rough. It’s been too long since I had Zeke. I need him now. I can’t wait.
“Good girl,” he says.
“No, I’m a bad girl. Very bad. I need to be punished.”
Zeke chuckles, loving who I am. I’m not a good girl. I’m his bad girl. I’m the woman who would kill for him, not caring whose life I had to take to ensure he survives. That’s who I am.
“Oh, don’t worry, Siren, I’ll punish you.” His voice sounds darker than it usually is—not just growly, or husky, but heavier than I’ve ever heard it before.
It startles me, and the haze begins to li
ft. I remember what I’m pushing down, what my subconscious is protecting me from.
I’m there. It’s me, not him, Zeke’s voice says again.
I feel the bed dip, and then his hips sink down on top of mine. “God, I’ve wanted you for so long. How much do you want me?” he says, his hips pressing harder over mine.
I roll my hips up, trying to get him to stop teasing me and give me what I want. He lifts up, preventing me from feeling his cock until I answer him.
“More than I want to breathe, that’s how badly I want you, Zeke.” He grunts, but still doesn’t give me any physical connection except for where his thighs press against my hips.
I feel his hand against my face, stroking my cheek. I close my eyes, leaning against the softness of his hand.
I frown, usually Zeke’s hands are rough, cut up, and calloused.
Shh, it’s me, Siren. You know it’s me, Zeke.
So I keep my eyes closed, my toes tingling as his big strong hands stroke down my cheek to my neck. His face dips to my neck as he presses his lips beneath my ear. So smooth, he shaved for me.
I squirm as the light kisses tingle down my body.
“Zeke,” I moan again. I need more. I need him to punish me. I need him to fuck me.
Something deep in my mind says I need this over.
Why would I want this over? All I want is Zeke. Over and over and over.
I arch my back, my wrists and ankles pulling gently on the metal handcuffs, keeping me from touching Zeke.
“What do you want?” he asks.
“For you to touch me, punish me, fuck me.”
I feel the blade then, and I smile—finally.
The blade slips under the neck of my shirt, and he pulls down, shredding my shirt.
“Aww,” I moan as I feel the blade of the knife trailing down the center of my chest, over my breast bone, digging in just enough to inject into my skin and cause a line down the center of my body that will remind me of this night forever.
Good, I want to remember.