Franco pushed me toward the taxi stands. Rows of cars waited, bright under glaring lights.
Shoving something into my hands, he said, “This is for your troubles. Goodbye, Ms. Snow.”
I wanted to scream as Franco strode away and disappeared. I hated my last name. I missed esclave. I missed what the word meant: belonging. Not just to Q, but an entire different existence.
I didn’t know how long I stood on the footpath, clutching the envelope Franco gave, but eventually I had no choice but to move. Move forward. Try and forget.
In a daze, I shuffled to the taxi stand.
A driver quirked a bushy, black eyebrow. “No luggage, little lady?”
I blinked. The moment I got in the car, my life would suck me along, and I would never be able to stop it. I would become Tessie again. Fierce Tess would be no more. Q would be no more.
Q was wrong about one thing. Something about me was broken: my heart.
Shaking my head, I mumbled, “No, no luggage.”
Get through today, then think about tomorrow. One baby step at a time.
Sliding into the plastic wrapped interior, I gave him my address. Our address. Me and Brax.
I was going home.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Bell Bird
‡
I didn’t have a key.
Running fingers along the top of the doorframe, I found the spare. Our apartment resided on the bottom floor of a building of eight units. A one bedroom, chilly box, with no sun or views, but we decorated with bright fabrics and Brax’s DIY projects.
Dammit, fit.
The key wouldn’t slide into the lock because I shook so much.
I was home. The place where I’d been happy, but clueless as to who I was. Walking through the door meant so much more than just returning. By doing this, I let Q win. I let him disown me.
I hunched, holding my stomach, trying to gather strength. My eyes rested on Brax’s steel-capped boots on the door mat, and my heart hung heavy in my chest.
You can’t ever let Brax see you like this, Tess… Tessie. This pain is private.
I straightened, sucking in gulps of air. Brax expected a relieved and distraught girlfriend, not a woman vibrating with need for another. Not a woman craving a whip and violence.
I undid the lock and stepped over the threshold.
Fear hit first.
Fear of sameness—the overwhelming homeliness created by Tessie and Brax. It reached like eager claws ready to suck me unwillingly into the past.
My feet stuck to the floor, locking in place, battling an unbearable need to run. The longer I stood trembling with fear, the more confused I was. My mind struggled with two sets of memories: Tessie and Tess. Brax and Q. Australia and France. They wouldn’t mesh and in my swirling confusion, the apartment worked a terrible magic. Soothing my terror, making it feel as if I never left.
Q? Who was that? A figment of my imagination.
Mexico? As if, Brax would never travel so far from home.
In a blink, the last two and a half months faded from reality to dream. I grasped at tendrils, forcing myself not to forget. I could never forget. No matter how painful, I wanted to wear the memories like armour, so I never grew weak again.
I inched forward, hands curled. Daisy curtains were drawn haphazardly, just like Brax did every time. A dirty plate languished in the sink in our tiny cream kitchen, and his red tool bag blocked the corridor leading to the bathroom and bedroom.
No lights were on, only shadows. I tiptoed through my own home, feeling like an intruder. I didn’t belong. I never belonged.
A bang came from the bedroom.
I crouched, ready to sprint, instincts on high alert.
Claws clacked on floorboards and a loud bark hurt the silence. Blizzard charged from the bedroom. The husky bounded over the tool bag and crashed against my legs.
The moment his hot, doggy body touched mine, I folded to the floor. I never liked Blizzard, but he signified Brax completely. Eager, happy, loyal to the end.
Dog breath made my nose wrinkle as he slobbered, tail wagging so hard his butt wiggled. “Calm down, Blizzard. I don’t need drowning in kisses.”
He whimpered as I pushed him away, needing some air. Forcing his massive body onto my lap, he licked with his road-rash tongue. Giving in, I pressed my face into his ruff. “You missed me, huh? You better not have chewed my handbags while I’ve been gone.”
Blizzard yipped.
A loud thud and a muffled curse came from the bedroom.
I froze. Blizzard sensed my mood and clambered off, darting down the corridor to where his master appeared.
My heart churned. Master. Blizzard was owned. I no longer was.
Brax stumbled as Blizzard careened into him, then looked up.
Our eyes locked—sky-blue to grey-blue. I was so used to pale green, I flinched.
Brax’s jaw hung open and tension erupted.
My insides rippled with complex bewilderment. Old Tess would’ve flown down the corridor and into Brax’s arms, slamming us to the floor. She would’ve burst into tears and kissed him all over. So, so happy to be back with someone who cared enough to share their life with her.
New Tess waged World War Ten in her heart. Q still held me captive, even though I tried to shrug off his conditioning. Q didn’t consider how distraught and lonely I would be. He proved he wasn’t a good master. Everyone knows, after captivity, a pet doesn’t survive in the wild. He should be punished.
You don’t belong to him. Not any longer. But how was I supposed to live after Q? I knew what true belonging meant. It hadn’t been ethical or normal, but I’d been treasured and priceless. I didn’t just want to belong. I wanted to be ruled. And Brax would never rule me. He couldn’t.
Brax shuffled forward, pushing the damn dog out of the way. “Is this real?” His deep voice, full of sleep, rasped with remembrance. Brax. Sweet, comforting Brax. He’d been all alone. Probably suffering ten times what I did.
“Brax.” I stepped forward.
Our eyes never left and he moved. “Tessie? My God, Tess.”
Then, we were running. We slammed together, wrapping tight arms, squeezing until breathless. Brax rained me in kisses while his bed-warm body, in only singlet and boxers, scalded me with grief.
My heart split into fragments. Q’s voice filled me head. “Smell so good. So fucking good. Like rain… no, no like frost. Sharp and fresh and icy and cold and… and painful.” He closed his eyes, voice trailing into a whisper. “You love c—causing pain.”
Pain.
It would become a familiar passenger in my heart. Q caused immeasurable agony. I wouldn’t survive it. You will survive it.
Brax stopped kissing my hair, gathering me in a bone-crunching hug. “Oh, my God, Tess. Tessie? It’s really you. Oh, my God.” His familiar apple scent and size all overwhelmed, and I did the one thing I swore not to do.
I broke.
Tears waterfalled and I sobbed. Sobbed for my past with this man. The knowledge I had changed completely, and could never go back. I would always live with Q in my heart; there was no longer room for Brax. But I had to pretend. This moment marked the day I locked away my wants and needs, ready to act my ass off. Tessie would be reborn through determination and lies.
Brax pulled back, tears tracking his face. He planted a wet kiss on my lips; I forced myself not to recoil. He’s gone through hell thinking you were dead. Kiss him. Show him you still love him.
I opened my mouth, expecting a violent tongue, so conditioned to savagery, but Brax kissed sweetly, delicately, so different to Q. So different to what I needed.
He pulled away, grabbing my hands. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” His eyes flew over me in panic. My grey dress was rumpled and creased, but it looked expensive. It should—it was Prada.
Brax frowned when he noticed the envelope in my grip. I still hadn’t had the balls to open it.
Hurt? Yes, in so many ways, but my wounds weren’t visible. I shook
my head. “I’m fine.”
He scowled. “What happened?” He spun me around, running hands down my body. “Are you sure? How did you get here? Did you escape? Maybe we should go to a hospital?”
I laughed softly as his fingers tickled, then winced as he caught residue pain from my rib. “I’m fine. Honest. I just need to go to bed and get some rest. It’s been a really long day.” Longest day of my life.
Brax wrapped arms around me; together we walked into the dark bedroom. Our queen-sized bed waited, and the cover I made from material scraps depicting the Eifel Tower, cackled with mockery.
I slammed to a halt. Why, why, why?
The French romantic symbolism stabbed me over and over; I couldn’t take it. I stalked forward, grabbed the edge, and threw it into the corner of the room. I couldn’t sleep beneath a symbol of the country where my ex-master lived. I hoped to God he suffered as much as me. Dammit, I wanted his cold heart ripped out—like mine was. You better be howling in agony, you bastard.
I vibrated with anger, and jumped a mile when Brax touched my shoulders. “Tessie… it’s okay. I don’t know what happened, but we’ll get you help. Okay?” He tugged me toward the bed and helped me undress.
I wallowed in thoughts, memories, wishing I could reboot my brain and forget. Forget everything.
Dressed only in the silky slip from beneath the dress, we climbed into bed. The whiff of detergent and fabric softener settled my raging heart, reminding me I used to find peace here. I could find it again, if I tried.
Brax immediately brought my head to lie on his chest. It was a usual position for us and I listened to his heartbeat. Strong and steady, it lulled me into blessed numbness.
Sleep stole my world.
*
“Esclave, what do you think you’re doing?”
I froze, looking up at my master. Q stood proud and hard by the side of my bed. He stroked his rigid cock, lips parted with lust as eyes sparked with desire.
“Making myself come thinking of you fucking me, maître.”
He stroked harder. A bead of pre-cum glistened. I couldn’t stop myself. I shot upright and sucked him. Q groaned, fisting my hair as I lapped and licked and lavished.
“Fuck, esclave. Your mouth is my entire world. I want to fuck you all day, every day. I can’t think straight not fucking you. I want to tie you up and never let you go.” His voice ran endlessly as he thrust into my mouth, nudging the back of my throat with force.
I moaned, slinking fingers between my legs, stroking delicious wetness.
“Stop touching yourself, Tess. That’s mine. All mine.” He pushed me backward, straddling me. In one quick move, he flipped me onto my knees and spanked me so hard my skin screamed with pleasure-pain.
I pushed my ass backward, begging.
“You’re going to take everything I give. You’re not going to be able to walk. Do you like the sound of that?” His brutal hand spanked me again; I groaned.
“Yes, master. I love the sound of that.”
Q positioned himself behind and—
“Shit, Tessie, you’re soaking.”
Fingers stroked inside, smearing cream between my legs. Brax lay wedged in my open thighs and dream world dumped into reality.
It’s not real.
My heart thrummed, trying to understand. Q wasn’t real. Just a dream. I went to run hands through my hair, to pummel the thoughts of Q from my head, but fingers glinted with wetness. I touched myself in my sleep.
“You were panting and woke me up,” Brax murmured, still stroking his finger inside. “You sounded in so much pain, Tessie. Then you started fingering yourself and moaning.” His voice ached with hurt, but he kept smiling softly. “I tried to stop you, but you forced my finger inside, and well, you… you woke up.”
Shame flamed my cheeks. I looked away, unable to see the turmoil in his gaze. “I’m sorry, Brax.”
I breathed deep, battling the urge to cry. I rolled my head, searching for the scent of citrus and sandalwood. My senses were lonely, deprived of everything Q. No longer mine to reprogram, I hated how I couldn’t hide. My body gave me away, and Brax was lost and hurt.
I had to fix this. I had to do something.
Brax shifted. His heavy cock pressed against my thigh. Knowledge blazed bright; I leaned up to kiss him.
He froze as I coaxed his lips open. I could give him back his girlfriend. Show I really had returned.
With a harsh groan, he collapsed on top, fingers working deep. His touch didn’t flare or sizzle like Q’s. Horribly, I found myself growing dry, not wet.
“Tess. God, I’ve missed you.” Soft lips pressed against mine. I wanted to close my eyes, but I needed to reaffirm the man making love to me was not Q Mercer. Not this boy with messy, floppy brown hair and eyes like the sky. This was Brax. And I loved him. I do.
I winced as he pressed another finger deeper. I arched my hips, dislodging his touch.
Brax stopped kissing me, looking down. “Is it too soon? I can stop. I just need to know you’re here. I have to have you, Tessie, so I know I’m not dreaming.” He ran his nose down my throat, sighing. “I’ve dreamed of you coming home so many times, I don’t trust myself that this is real.”
I cupped his cheek, tracing his lips with a thumb. Brax was all that mattered. I had to stop thinking and carry on with my future. “I need you, too.”
I needed Brax to wipe away Q’s claim. Then, perhaps, I could be free.
Silently, Brax eased his hips, pressing inside. I winced at the bruising and dryness, but held Brax’s head against my shoulder as he started to move. I willed my body to respond.
Together, we rocked and reconnected. His body filled mine, and I tried so hard to stay in the present. To let the love for Brax evolve from fizzling to blazing passion, but the spark never rose past a tiny glimmer. Not like the galaxies Q conjured, like the devil-magician he was. Stop thinking about that bastard.
Brax moaned, kissing my ear. “Shit, you feel amazing. I missed you. So, so much, you have no idea.”
I hate myself.
I hate Q.
I hate my sick fantasies.
I hated I couldn’t be the woman Brax thought I was. I hated Brax for complaining about his problems rather than what happened to me.
I churned with black thoughts, sighing in relief when Brax came, shuddering and thrusting hard.
My body never rose past a gentle burn, an orgasm was an impossibility.
Brax pulled out and sat up, looking down. My silky slip had risen above my breasts, revealing nakedness.
“Holy fuck.” His mouth plopped open as he scuttled back, almost falling off the edge of the bed. “Holy shit, Tessie. What the hell happened?” Tears glazed his eyes, locked on my flesh.
My heart raced. I looked down. A loud psychotic laugh erupted. Brax looked as if he contemplated taking me to an insane asylum.
Flogger marks, lashes, kisses of red, and smudges of bruises, painted my normally perfect skin.
I shook my head. If Q whipped and branded, knowing he was sending me back, did he know my old lover would see? Did he do this deliberately?
Q, you’re a conniving asshole. But in that moment, I didn’t care. The marks linked me to him, and as long as they etched my flesh, I was still esclave. Whether Q wanted it or not.
Brax stood, pacing naked. “Tell me what happened to you. Why the hell are you laughing?”
My smile dissolved; I dropped my gaze. Because my emotions played roulette, I started to cry instead. I smashed at the traitorous liquid.
Brax hesitantly climbed back on the bed.
Guilt swarmed and I dragged sheets up to my chin. “It’s nothing, Brax. Nothing happened. I’m here now. Okay? It’s in the past, and no longer matters.”
Brax shook his head, panic in his blue eyes. “Do you need counselling? We can go now. I feel so helpless.”
The thought of talking to someone was horrid. “No. I’ll be fine. Truly.”
Brax hiccupped, hunching his shoulder
s. His voice cracked as sadness fell from his lips. “Tess, I’m so, so sorry I wasn’t able to stop them. I relive that day over and over. I want to kill myself for not being strong enough to stop them, and deserve to go to hell for not listening to you. I forced you to go into the café. This is all my fault.”
Panic flared. I couldn’t handle it if Brax broke down. I didn’t have the strength to soothe him as well as me.
But he dissolved, looking more and more distraught by the second.
I sat up, scurrying to him, making sure my body stayed covered. My knees pressed against his as I took his face in my hands. “It wasn’t your fault. No one would have been able to stop them.” My body tensed, remembering Leather Jacket. “No one, okay? We were outnumbered. You need to forgive yourself.”
Brax hung his head. “Don’t you hate me? For not listening? I spent the last two months thinking you were dead. To have you come back to life, wounded, and mentally screwed up…”
I flinched. I was a lot of things, but mentally I was fine. Q wouldn’t win. I would get over him.
He looked into my eyes, stricken. “I woke up in the men’s bathroom, alone. And you were gone. I don’t know how I got back to the hotel, but somehow I did. The police arranged a search party, but no one had hope. They called it off after a week, and the Australian embassy got involved. They sent me home.”
He laughed darkly. “They sent me home without you! How did they think I could go on with my life? I wanted to stay and search myself, but the police said they’d been to the café, and it was boarded up. No one was there.”
Brax took my hand, squeezing painfully. “Where did they take you?”
I was prepared to listen to Brax’s story. It was obvious it ate him alive, but my story… I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell him the horrible experience in Mexico. I couldn’t tell him about the rape when I ran away. I couldn’t tell him how much Q meant to me. How much I craved him—even now. I would take it to the grave.
Brax grabbed my wrist, spying the barcode for the first time. Running a thumb over the lines, he murmured, “They did this to you? The low-life wankers.” He flipped my wrist as if he could peel it off and make it disappear. “Why did they tattoo you?”
Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire Page 277