The Breaking (The Curse of the Regina Book 1)

by A. P. Marie

  Timmy in the corner giggles at my resistance. “No sense fightin’, hun. Won’t do no good.” I glare at him again and my fear skyrockets as Tyler steps closer to me with the wand.

  “Come on, Tyler. We’re all friends here. You don’t need that. Honestly. I’ve learned my lesson.” I eye the wand suspiciously and as he moves up my body, I can feel the heat rolling off it.

  “Asking me for mercy does you no good. Cam is the only one who can grant you mercy. Cam is the only one who can protect you.” He touches the wand to the exposed flesh on the inside of my upper thigh. I can’t help the blood curdling scream that tears from my lungs. I can’t stop from begging him to stop as he continues to my other thigh.

  Instinctually, I reach out to Zander through our connection, trying to follow that same line I used earlier. In my pain filled haze, I can’t follow the link, I don’t have the concentration necessary. But when Tyler burns the bottom of my foot, I’m so harried that I tug as hard as I can on it. I’m too frazzled to compose any purposeful image or thought but he must have gotten something from me because I instantly feel a rush of hatred and rage that I have never felt before. He knows what happening. He can feel my fear. He can feel my pain.

  Right before I lose consciousness, I notice Tyler stopping up a vial of what appear to be blood.

  Chapter 14

  Cam the Ham

  This time I am still conscious when they bring me back to my cell. They dump me on my bed, but I roll onto the cold, cement floor. Burns cover most of my legs and the cold of the floor is the only semblance of relief I have felt since the burning started.

  God, I really hate burns. I wipe away the last of the traitor tears that streak my face. I tried so hard not to show them how scared or hurt I was. I tried so hard not to break down in front of them. I was weak and failed.

  I lay back against the bed rails once I have myself positioned with the most possible burns touching the cool floor. I think about the burst of emotion I felt from the connection during my training session and it makes me cry harder knowing what happened next.

  The rush of cold hatred lasted through a good portion of Tyler’s attention. But when that faded there was a wave of desperation. Then hopelessness. Of everything that has happened, that hopelessness from broke me faster than anything Cam has tried. He has no way to find me. He has no idea where I am. I felt it in that hopelessness. He can’t help me. He can’t protect me.

  That’s when I caved, and I’m not proud to admit it. I begged for Cam to stop my training. I begged for Cam to grant me mercy. I would have begged to anyone capable of helping me in that situation.

  I think about my connection to Zander and I realize that what I saw as an opportunity, a possibility for escape, may in fact be a liability. When his emotions swarmed my body, I wasn’t prepared. I didn’t have the chance to stop my reactions because it all happened so fast and was so extreme.

  And what’s worse is that Cam somehow knew I was communicating with Zander. My training was worse because of it. Had I not spoken to Zander would Tyler have ever used the wand? Would I have been burnt at all? Cut? Punched? What pain could have been saved by not communicating with Zander?

  I make the decision right then to end my communications with Zander. I recognize that some of the connection is subconscious, I can’t help that. But I can help the conscious communication and I will stop it. I can’t stop my training all together, but I can limit it. If talking to Zander is a tipping point for Cam, then I will avoid that.

  As soon as I make my decision I crawl back into my bed. The decision was the hard part but now that I have made it, I am able to relax into my bed. Despite my aches, burns, and cuts I quickly fall into a restless sleep.

  My dream that night is much like my dreams had been before coming here. I’m still banged up pretty good and I have the deep aching loss in my chest but in this dream I’m completely conscious that it is a dream. Instead of laying on the floor crying in a near comatose state, I look for anything that will help me decide when this dream takes place.

  The first thing I notice is my clothes. I am dressed in clothes that Cam would approve of. I am wearing a short cotton dress that is fitted in the midriff but flares out around my hips and ends about mid-thigh. It’s very revealing and a deep, sexy red. A pair of black stilettos sit in the corner where I apparently kicked them off.

  I can hear something in the distance that I hadn’t noticed in my previous dreams. There is a lot of noise outside. Not just outside my room but outside the house. Some of the sounds are easily recognizable. Gunshots. Others less so. The only comparison I would have is to say that it sounds like what I imagine cannons sound like. I can also hear shouting coming from inside the house.

  As I’m trying to look around, I feel a faint tugging in my midriff. It’s not the dream-me that feels this. That version of me can’t feel anything other than the ache. The half of me that is an active participant in the dream though feels a tugging. It’s the same connection that led me to Zander yesterday only for some reason this feels fainter. Less potent. Instead of following the thread, though, the tugging force seems to be coming to me.

  The feeling intensifies and then suddenly a shape starts to emerge in the gloom of my little room. I watch amazed as the shape builds until I can see the outline of a man. Granted, a shimmery semi-transparent man but a man all the same. I was expecting to see Zander standing before me but as the shape solidifies, I’m surprised to find Caiden staring at me.

  At first Caiden looks confused, then a little faint, but when he sees me his emotions shift immediately to anger. He scans my dream self’s injuries and growls lowly in his throat.

  “Caiden?”

  Caiden snaps his eyes back to my face and holds out his arms. I don’t hesitate as I step into him.

  “Caiden. I can’t do this anymore.” The Caiden that is my best friend pulls the deepest truth from me before he even opens his mouth.

  “Emily, you are the single strongest person I have ever met. Nephilim or otherwise. You can do anything.” He rubs my back in soothing circles as I sob into his chest. “Tell me what’s been going on.”

  I give Caiden a quick run-down of what’s been happening. I tell him all about my training sessions and Cam’s expectations. I tell him about visiting Zander and how nice it was. But then I tell him how Zander’s emotions weakened me. I tell him everything. When I’m finished Caiden holds me tightly, but he doesn’t say anything. He just holds me and provides his support.

  “You know what they are doing, Emily. They are trying to brainwash you into believing that Cam is the only one who can or will protect you. This is not true. Remember that but play his game. I can’t stand to see you continuing to be hurt. Play the game, do what he wants. Then come back to me. We are working on a plan to get you out right now. If you give in to him, our Emily will already be gone.”

  He takes my face in his hands and lowers his forehead, so it rests against mine. “I can’t be who he wants. I thought I could just play his game and keep myself separate. I can’t. Already I can feel myself leaning towards the path of least resistance. I begged for Cam to save me during my last training session.” I admit in a weak voice the things that I am sure Caiden will ostracize me for.

  To my surprise Caiden does not look surprised or mad. In fact, he looks understanding. “That makes sense, Emily. Nobody is going to purposefully cause themselves pain. Zander would tell you the same thing if he were here. Do whatever it takes to come back to us.”

  When I look into Caiden’s eyes, I see complete sincerity. He means what he says and for him the most important thing is that I make it out of this mess, whole.

  “Caiden, you are my best friend. You know that, right?”

  I know that our time is running short because his outline is fading into the background, but I can’t help from reaching out and trying to hold him to me. Where Zander sets my body on fire and elicits physical passion, Caiden soothes my soul. He’s like the calming balm to everythin
g that has ever hurt me and in this situation, he is exactly what I need.

  After he leaves, his particular brand of sooth stays with me for the rest of night, allowing me to sleep soundly for several more hours.

  ∞∞∞

  Swearing. Eye rolling. Sarcasm. Sighing. Lack of eye contact when he is talking. Eye contact. Defiance. Pausing before completing given tasks. Unhappiness with his outfit choice. Not laughing at his jokes. Smiling at someone other than him.

  The list of infractions that earn me punishments grow every day. Cam comes every afternoon to take me for a shower and to eat. Then after dinner he turns me over to Tyler. I try. Really, I try hard to please him. But I’m beginning to wonder if he knows what he wants from me. Even my best attempts at pleasing him fail. He finds something every single day that is worth sending me to “training” over.

  Oddly enough, every single time I go to the training room, Tyler seems to collect a vial of my blood. Despite asking about it, I never get any kind of explanation of what he plans to do with it.

  I’ve lost track of the days, and the number of times I have been sent to the white room for training. I can only guess at how long I have been in this house, and while it feels like an eternity, I figure it has been about a month.

  I make it through my sessions with Tyler by replacing “Cam” every time it comes out of Tyler’s mouth with “Cam the ham.” Oddly enough, it helps. Whether that makes me twisted or whatever is up to you, but it’s hard to be intimidated by a man saying, “Cam the ham is the only one that can save you. Cam the ham is willing to protect you. Give in to Cam the ham.”

  After a week, I do well enough that he takes me to the living room after dinner to watch TV. But, after only a few minutes he calls Tyler in because I “sat too far away from him on the couch.” Give me a break.

  The following week I do well enough to make it through most of a movie before he decides that I was thinking about “my past mate.”

  One day, as a reward for my improving behavior he gets me out of my room sooner in the day and he lets me eat lunch and dinner with him. It is the first time I have eaten more than once a day since I came here.

  Even knowing what Cam is doing I feel a sense of pride when I perform well enough to receive a reward. There is something about realizing that I have pleased him that appeals to my nature. As a foster kid and then a lonely run away, I have always wanted to fit in and make people happy.

  I have no misunderstandings about Cam. I know he is a sadistic shit. The way his eyes linger on my bruises and cuts. The frequency with which he points out that he can’t wait to be the one to train me. The pride that shines through his eyes when I follow one of his dumbass rules. And yet, my first genuine smile in weeks comes from his praise.

  “Emily, you are doing much better than I expected.” He mumbles to me one night after dinner when we are sitting on the couch. His fingers leisurely stroke up and down my arm. I know better than to flinch at his touch- that earned me two black eyes and a deep muscle bruise to my thigh.

  The living room has become familiar to me but still my eyes roam over the large built in cabinets covered in books.

  Turning to look into Cam’s eyes when I respond (broken finger and a cut up the arch of my left foot) I smile serenely and respond, “Any success I am having is due entirely to your training.”

  I use my right hand to gently brush his cheek and I scoot nearer to him on the couch. His responding smile is sign enough that I am doing exactly as he wants. He moves so near to me that I fear he might kiss me.

  Several times in the last few weeks Cam has come near enough to kiss. The first time I actually gagged in his face (severe burns, busted lip, and a training session that lasted hours longer than normal), the second time I “tensed up” (wrench to the ribs and fist to the jaw), one time he said he could see refusal in my eyes (dozens of shallow cuts up and down my legs and arms).

  This time I hold perfectly still. I freeze the smile on my face, and I keep the disgust hidden deep behind my eyes. The impulse to gag or pull away eats at me like an itch I can’t scratch but I trample any undesirable response and hold very still.

  Cam brings his face near enough to mine that I can feel his breath against my lips.

  “You have pleased me greatly today.” His whisper sends shivers up my spine and I pray that he doesn’t recognize that for the skin crawling response it is.

  His fingers skim up my arm, across my shoulder, and up my neck until they tangle into the hair on the back of my head. Every nerve ending revolts at the touch of his fingers on my skin, but I stay frozen in what I hope is still a pleasant expression.

  “That is my only goal, Cam.” His shoulders relax further as his other arm snakes around my waist. I lay both my palms flat against his chest and work hard to let them rest gently instead of pushing against him.

  Cam leans forward until our lips are just touching and my brain fizzes out. I can’t keep fighting the desire to push him off, but any negative outward response will earn me extra training time. For weeks, I have worked to prepare myself for this outcome, but it doesn’t make the event any easier.

  Thankfully, Cam pulls back without causing further pain and the joy on his face is evidence enough that I managed to hide my true emotions.

  “I have a surprise for you.” Cam grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet.

  By now I have a pretty decent understanding of the house so when he turns left out of the living room my stomach tightens. The only place on this side of the house that we frequent is the bedroom he lets me shower in. Cam took me to shower as soon as he got me out of the room today though, the same as always. Nothing good can come from going back there now.

  Cam leads me up the now familiar stairs and stops to open the door to the bedroom. Tramping down on my confusion because Cam doesn’t like for me to question him, I follow him timidly into the room.

  “You have pleased me greatly today, Emily. As a reward I am prepared to allow you to stay in your bedroom tonight. I don’t see any need for you to go to training or back to the basement right at this moment.”

  I smile happily at Cam and wrap my arms around his neck. He doesn’t like it when I don’t appreciate what he gives me (needle under my fingernails) and he likes physical affection (burns on all of my fingertips). I make sure not to stay so far away from his body that it becomes obvious I’m keeping space between us as I give him a hug.

  The twisted thing is that he honestly believes I should be thanking him for not having me tortured. Sick fuck.

  His arms wrap around my back and find the skin showing between the tank top and shorts he set out for me. I pretend the touch of his skin on mine doesn’t sicken me to my core.

  “Thank you, Cam. You are too good to me. I don’t deserve this.” Even I can sense the falseness in my voice, but he doesn’t comment on it. Why would he? I’m completing the script he has been writing for me these last several weeks.

  “I will give you anything that you desire if you please me.” With my chin resting on his shoulder he can’t see my eyes, so I perform a well-executed eye roll, and it feels damn good.

  His hands slide from the bare skin on my lower back up as he pulls away from the hug, but he keeps my body in position right in front of him. I see the determination in his eyes and fear rises in my gut like lava from a volcano.

  Cam steps forward and I step back. I keep the neutral look on my face and pray that he doesn’t find fault in my actions, but I can’t stay still with him so near. Each forward step he takes, I take one backward, like a twisted dance.

  When I feel the bed against the back of my thighs my chest squeezes and for a second, I’m sure I am having a heart attack. Surely, a heart can’t beat this fast or feel this frantic and continue to pump blood effectively.

  Both of my thighs bump the bed and Cam takes another step gently pushing my torso backwards with his chest while his hands keep me from tumbling onto the bed. Slowly, he lowers me down to a laying position with his body hove
ring over me.

  He has both elbows planted on the bed beside me and his knee pushing into the bed between my thighs. Leaning down until we are nose to nose, he whispers, “I want us to be able to get along. But, in order for that to happen you need to learn to trust me implicitly. I will make decisions for you. You belong to me and I will take liberties with you because of that. I’m training you to trust me.” His words ring true in my gut and as twisted as he is, I realize that he really believes this is the only way to have a relationship.

  I’m afraid to open my mouth for fear that my revulsion will come spilling out, so I only nod. He lowers his face and once more touches his lips to mine. I respond as minimally as possible but sitting stoically while he kisses me may earn me a punishment, so I move my lips timidly against his.

  Anger and betrayal war their way through my body. Emotions that are not mine swirl through my body stronger than I have felt them in weeks and the sudden rush of his emotions causes a gasp to escape my lips.

  Cam, not recognizing the gasp for shock, assumes I am responding to his lips and takes the opportunity to explore my open mouth with his tongue. I shiver in disgust and again Cam misunderstands my reaction. When he pulls away from me his eyes are crinkled in pleasure and his hand rests lightly on my hip.

  “Good night, Emily.” He brings his lips to mine once more before he pulls back and steps away from the bed. Bringing his hand up, he points to the door that has remained locked since my first day in the room. “If you need anything knock on that door. It connects to my bedroom.”

  As soon as I hear the door click shut, I let my head drop back onto the mattress. I try to shut my brain off before it dredges up the memory of his lips on mine, but I can’t stop it in time. I rush to the bathroom and barely make it before my dinner makes a reappearance.

  Chapter 15

  Cam’s School of “Go Teach Yourself”