by Melody Anne
His hand loosened. “That’s good. But I can see that’s what he plans,” Leo snapped.
“I don’t think so. I really don’t,” she said, but she wasn’t sure of that. She’d say just about anything to keep Leo from losing his temper.
“You didn’t think I wanted you either, Elena. You’re not the brightest when it comes to men and their desires,” he said with a quiet, sinister laugh. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Just because he has all the money in the world he thinks he’s entitled to whatever he wants. You’re mine! I don’t like sharing what’s mine.”
He suddenly pulled her up and sat her on his naked lap, already hard. He always grew hard when he roughed her up.
“I got excited watching you struggle as I cut off your air,” he said, the wicked light in his eyes unmistakable.
What was she supposed to say to that? Thank you? Never! She might appear to be broken to all these people, but somewhere deep inside she wanted her freedom. She still wanted to find out who she was. She would play their games, but she planned on being the ultimate victor — even if she had moments of defeat. When she wasn’t being beaten to within an inch of her life, she struggled. Still, she remained quiet as he grasped the bottom of her nightgown and pulled it over her head, tossing it aside.
“Aren’t you worried Dalton will come in?” she asked.
It was the wrong thing to say because fury contorted Leo’s face as he gripped her hips and pulled her closer to him, his hardness embedded in her exposed core.
“Don’t you dare say that man’s name when you are naked in my arms,” he snapped as he reached up and squeezed her breast hard enough that she let out a cry.
He leaned forward and bit her lip for making the sound. Not enough to break the skin and leave evidence he’d been there, but enough to make it hurt.
“I’m sorry.” She knew she needed to apologize, or he would keep punishing her.
“You are sorry, aren’t you, Elena? You’re a sorry excuse for a woman. If you weren’t so good-looking, didn’t have a terrific body, you would have been thrown out long ago like the trash you are,” he said, taking delight in putting her down.
How could he profess to love her one moment and then be so cruel the next? This was why Elena wanted nothing to do with love.
She wanted to lash out at him, scream, slap him. Tell him he was a worthless pig. But she did none of that. Was it basic survival skills? She wasn’t sure. But whatever it was, she remained motionless in his arm.
“You like me being deep inside you, don’t you, whore?” he asked while pounding upward in a painful way.
“Yes, Leo,” she said, knowing there wasn’t another answer he would accept.
“I know you do,” he said with a chuckle as he continued invading her body. She was silent since that hadn’t been a question.
He leaned forward and bit into her nipple, and this time she didn’t utter a sound as pain washed through her. It was odd how when Dalton had touched her breast she’d felt pleasure fill her, but all she ever felt from Leo was pain.
What was the difference?
Sure, Leo enjoyed hurting her, especially when he didn’t get the response he felt he deserved, but any man’s touch should disgust her. Somehow Dalton’s didn’t, though. Maybe she was just that messed up in the head, that she would enjoy the other man’s attention.
When Leo flipped her onto her back and began to find a quick release at her expense, she withdrew to another place. The video of her and her father playing on the beach. The sand looked so warm, the water incredibly inviting.
That’s where she always went. She closed her eyes and pretended to be on the beach while Leo grunted on top of her. She could almost feel the sun’s warm rays heating her skin, could almost believe she was there instead of here, in her personal hell.
The nice thing with Leo, it never took him long to finish. She understood why he had to force her into a sexual relationship, because he would have a difficult time getting anyone to do what he wanted willingly.
Although he wasn’t the worst looking man, or he hadn’t been until he’d turned into the monster he was, his personality sucked. He had nothing to offer a partner.
Elena listened to the other staff members speak. She never joined in their conversations, but she listened to them gossip. All the staff thought Dalton was incredibly good-looking, a real catch. She’d heard whispers that most of the women were unsure if it was worth it to be with him, though, since he was kinky in the bedroom.
Elena didn’t know what that meant. But unlike the rest of the staff, she knew she was different. She knew she didn’t have the same freedom they did. She didn’t know why, but they were allowed to come and go. They liked one another.
She, on the other hand, was trapped. She couldn’t think for herself, couldn’t voice an opinion, and couldn’t be part of the club. It was a sad life, one she had given up trying to understand.
Leo finished with a low groan and then rolled off her only to turn on his side and slide his fingers against her smarting skin. He slipped a finger inside her bruised core and roughly pumped for a few moments just in case she hadn’t already had enough. Then he slid his wet fingers up her body and pinched her nipple.
Elena remained quiet, knowing he would grow bored with this soon enough and then she would be allowed to clean his disgusting scent off her.
“I have to go now. Dalton was called away on an emergency, but he’ll be back soon. It was the reason I was able to get in here. But I needed to remind you that I can get to you. Even if it takes a long time, I will always get to you. Even if you tell Dalton I’m the one who gave you the bruises, I will find a way to get to you — telling him will be the last thing you ever do.”
Leo rolled over her again so fast there was no chance to protect herself as he pinned her to the bed beneath him, his spit hitting her face while he snarled his words.
“I won’t tell him, Leo.”
That wasn’t something she could promise though, because she didn’t know if it was possible. Dalton was a determined man. What was really the worst thing that could happen if she told Dalton?
The worst thing wasn’t death. She would welcome death. No. The worst thing was Leo would get hold of her and drag her away to some place he could inflict all the torture he wanted, day and night.
It really wasn’t worth the risk of telling Dalton. If she thought it would give her freedom she would. She owed nothing to Leo. But she didn’t think it would earn her anything more than extra trouble.
And going from one fire to another didn’t help her. She would most likely get burned that much more.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The lock on the bathroom door gave Elena a false sense of security. There was also a lock on her bedroom door, and yet Leo had still managed to get through with no problem at all and get to her, wrap his hands around her throat, and nearly end her life.
Ending her life would never be enough for Leo, though. No. He enjoyed humiliating her, hurting her, and taking her against her will. How had she ever thought that man could be her savior? He’d been so different when she’d first come to know him — gentle, giving, and protective.
That had changed quickly after the master had died.
So even if she did feel something for Dalton, did it really matter? Wouldn’t he turn out just like Leo? One minute he might be acting as if he was there to protect her, but then the next, he would turn on her. They all would.
It had been two days since Leo had paid her a visit, and she was still frightened of being in the new room. It was late when Elena let the bathwater drain from the tub then took her time toweling herself off.
She didn’t bother bringing her nightgown into the bathroom. She was alone all the time. Dalton made his regular stops to the room, but always early. She assumed he was away from the house until late each night.
That was for the best. Nighttime was when she felt the weakest — the most vulnerable. It was when she desperately wanted to cl
Definitely she didn’t want to be with Leo anymore, and anyone who could save her from him would be a god in her book. But beyond that she just wanted to know who she was.
Wrapping the warmed towel around her body, she opened the bathroom door and stepped out. She was five steps into the room when she figured out she wasn’t alone.
Every survival instinct inside her told her to run back into the bathroom and lock the door. But Elena knew she wouldn’t make it. Then she would be in even worse trouble for running.
The room was dark, only lit by the half-moon shining in through the windows, but she could see the man sitting near her bed in the corner of her room. She almost let out a sigh of relief when she realized it was Dalton and not Leo.
But then she came to her senses and realized he was just as dangerous as Leo — maybe even more so, since she didn’t know exactly what Dalton was capable of yet.
Elena didn’t move forward as she looked in his direction, wishing she could see his expression to at least be prepared for what sort of mood he was in. She then glanced at the bed where her nightgown was laid out. Why hadn’t she just taken it in the bathroom with her? She should always assume that someone could enter the room and lie there in wait for her.
She felt too vulnerable in nothing but the thick white towel that actually covered her pretty decently. Shifting from one foot to the other, she waited to find out what Dalton wanted.
“Come here, Elena,” he finally said. Nothing in his tone gave away why he was in her room so late.
“I need to get dressed,” she said, her voice hoarse as she moved toward her nightgown instead of doing what he demanded.
“No you don’t,” he told her. “I said to come here.”
There was such command in his voice that her feet literally stopped moving toward the bed, instead stepping around it and going over to where he sat. She hated that she was so trained to do what she was told.
“That’s better,” he said in approval. And dammit, the praise made her glow a little bit. She didn’t want to be pleased that she’d made him happy.
“Closer, Elena,” he said quietly.
Shivering, she shuffled forward until she could practically feel the heat waves coming off his covered skin.
“Take off the towel.”
It took a moment for the words to process, but once they did, she shivered again, this time in fear — and unbelievably, a bit of excitement.
“I don’t want to,” she said, her words almost too quiet to hear.
“Don’t make me say it again,” he said, his voice still low, but this time there was no mistaking the command.
Elena glared down at him, not sure if he could see the expression in the darkened corner of her room. But then she reached up and pulled at where the towel was tucked in against her chest. Letting go, it dropped to her feet, leaving her standing naked before him.
It was dark, but enough light was there that he could see her outline at least. She couldn’t prevent the goosebumps crisscrossing over her skin.
He reached out, and she felt his hand on her hip as he tugged her forward so she was now standing between his spread thighs. She was only inches from his body. He lifted the other hand and it rested at her throat.
Her breathing quickened as he began moving downward with a soft caress. When his fingers skimmed over first one breast and then the other, she had to suck in the sound trying to escape. Her nipples beaded and ached at the light touch. She didn’t want to show him that she was enjoying his touch though. It was a violation no matter how good it felt.
He continued moving his fingers down her body, swiping them along her stomach and then tracing the front of her thighs. She felt wetness heat her core as he neared that area, but he didn’t touch her there.
His fingers on her hip tightened and Elena found herself leaning forward before she stopped herself. But Dalton tugged her and then she was pressed against him, his face positioned between her breasts.
“I can’t stop thinking about you, Elena, how you felt in my arms, how you smelled, the taste of your mouth . . .”
She was a wreck as he whispered the words against her skin.
His hot breath sent another shudder through her before he gripped her backside and tugged a little more. She felt his lips skim the underside of her breasts before he moved up and then his hot tongue swept across one nipple and then the other.
She waited for the pain of his bite, but it never came. He just moved from one breast to the other, his tongue laving over them before his lips tightened on them and he sucked, making her core pulse.
She felt moisture on her thighs as she trembled in his arms.
When he pulled back from her she wanted to protest, but amazingly managed to stop herself. His breathing was hot and heavy against her stomach as she stood between his thighs and waited for what came next.
“Are you ready to talk to me yet?” he asked, his voice almost gentle as he rubbed the cheeks of her butt.
She almost opened up and told him everything in her aroused state, only managing to stop herself at the last possible second. He sighed against her skin.
“I can give you so much pleasure if you do what I ask,” he said, this time sounding irritated.
That snapped her from her dazed stupor, and she tugged against him, trying to get away. His fingers clenched on her butt cheeks, showing her she was only free to go when he allowed it.
“I don’t want anything you have to give me,” she said. If only her voice was more firm.
His fingers clenched against her skin again for a moment, and then she was surprised when he let her go. Quickly she stepped back, trying to cover herself, though it was still dark in this corner.
When he stood, she stepped back even farther.
“I’m not a patient man, Elena,” he warned as he began moving, making her feel like a caged animal. “And I’ll warn you that I’m just about at the end of my lenience.”
She didn’t say anything, not knowing what she could possibly do to explain why she wasn’t telling him anything. Luckily she didn’t have to. He turned and strode from the room.
Elena dressed quickly and then lay on her bed shivering, not understanding at all what had just happened. She didn’t sleep that night.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
She heard the doorknob turning, and Elena glanced at it with disinterest. One week she’d been in this room, and for that week, Dalton had come in at the same time every day, asking the same question.
Her reply never varied.
He hadn’t made another midnight visit, and Elena wasn’t sure if she was happy or sad about that. She tried telling herself she was glad, but nights were so lonely . . .
“Haven’t you had enough, Elena?”
That wasn’t what he normally asked. She turned to look at him. She was on a food strike, hadn’t eaten in three days, her lunch sitting on her small table, untouched.
His eyes narrowed when he saw her condition. What did it matter? What did anything matter anymore? She’d come to a conclusion, since she had little time to do anything except think: there was no reason for her to go on.
She’d contemplated suicide. There were ways she could accomplish it. There were ties holding the curtains back. There was a chair. But something inside her rebelled at the thought of actually taking her own life. If she simply starved to death that wasn’t suicide. It was just giving up. There was a difference.
“My maid informed me you haven’t touched your food again today. That’s going to stop now,” Dalton said when she refused to answer his first question.
She still said nothing. What was the point in talking to him? She couldn’t say what he wanted to hear, and he’d only grow angrier with her. At least she knew he wouldn’t hit her, or he hadn’t so far. Things could change.
She’d once thought Leo was a good guy. She’d been proven wrong about that time and time again.
That was the one blessing in her imprisonment. Leo hadn’t come back to her since that first night. Maybe security was tighter, or maybe he was busy, but whatever the reason he hadn’t returned. Her body was almost back to normal — whatever normal was.
She wouldn’t know.
“When I speak to you, don’t ignore me,” Dalton thundered.
She turned and looked at him, her eyes blank. She had no energy, a blessing from not eating. She was sleeping a lot more. She didn’t have to face as much time in each new day.
“I’m going to take a nap now,” she said, her voice hoarse from lack of talking.
“No, you aren’t. You’re coming with me.”
That surprised her.
“Going where?” She was almost interested. “Outside?” She hated the hope that had sprouted within her.
“Get up, and you will find out,” he told her.
She didn’t have the energy to move. Dalton walked over to the phone and spoke a few terse words into the receiver before hanging it up. Within a few minutes, the maid who’d been serving her came with a fresh tray of food.
She set it down and removed the other one before quietly slipping back out of the room. The aroma of warm soup and fresh bread drifted over to her. It was strange though. The longer she’d gone without eating, the less she cared about it. Normally the smell of a delicious meal would have had her mouth watering, as she was normally served little more than bread and crackers.
“If you want to go with me, you will eat,” Dalton told her, moving to her chair and lifting her. She hung limply in his arms while he carried her to the table.
Should she break her fast and accept this new challenge? Surely she didn’t have long to go before her body gave out if she just held steady.
“Elena, you are coming with me. If I phrased it like a question, I apologize for the misunderstanding,” he said, though she knew this man apologized for nothing. He was simply using words he didn’t mean. “You either eat this on your own, or I swear I will tie you to the chair and force-feed you.”
His words were spoken almost conversationally. She was almost ready to challenge him. But she was too weak to find anything pleasant in that.
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