by J. L. Beck
I grab the rope from the nightstand and wrap it around her wrists so it’s binding but not digging into her skin. I still don’t trust that she isn’t going to make a run for it.
“I’m not going to run. If I was going to, I would’ve already.”
I look up from her wrists and at her heart-shaped face. Her eyes look like little sapphire jewels. “This is for your protection, not mine.”
“What do you mean?”
Pushing on her shoulder, I ease her back against the pillow. Her face is still a mask of confusion and remains that way as I pull the blanket up, shut the light off, and nestle into the spot beside her. I toss my arm over her middle and spoon her, molding us together like clay. She sucks a sharp, almost fearful breath into her lungs. She reminds me of a spooked horse right now, willing and ready to fight. She won’t win this battle, though.
After a moment, she settles against me, the tension in her body seeping outward. A second later, she clears her throat.
“What did you mean, Markus?”
For a moment, I contemplate not telling her. It will only scare her more, pushing her further away from me, which is the last thing I want. I want her to trust me, to need me, but I also need to make it apparent what happens to her if she betrays me or crosses the line.
Burying my face into her hair, I inhale deeply. Her scent calms me and makes me wonder if I can do better, be better. It’s nonsense to think such a thing. I’ve been a stone-cold killer since Julian’s father asked me to work for him. Some five-foot, blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman isn’t going to sway me away from that life.
I’m a monster. That’s all I’ll ever be, all I want to be.
Our differences don’t stop the possessive need, though, nor do they make me want her any less. Holding her tighter, I find her ear and press my lips to her thundering pulse beneath it. I kiss the sensitive flesh, wanting to do so much more than that.
“In a way, it protects you because if you were to get away from me, all bets are off. You are mine, and not only will I kill anyone who tries to take you away from me, but I will also punish you severely for trying to leave.”
Silence, aside from our shallow breaths, surrounds us. I hate myself for the things I’m going to do and the things I’ve already done, but even if I could go back in time, I would do it all again. This is who I am.
“Does that mean the only way out of this is death?” Her voice is so low, it’s almost a whisper. A lump suddenly develops in my throat.
She still believes that there is a way out of this?
“It means there is no way out.”
My response might be cruel, but it’s the truth. Fallon will never escape me. She became ensnared in my web, sealing her fate in my life the moment she walked across that stage and met my steely gaze.
13
Fallon
I can’t believe how nice he has been to me. As nice as it can get, considering he bought and uses my body as he pleases. He might be controlling, careless, completely insane, and unreasonable, but at least he isn’t unnecessarily cruel to me. Yet.
He feeds me, dresses me, and lets me sleep in the bed. He doesn’t hurt me physically, and he treats me like a human. I’ve been thinking about the other girls a lot during the last few days, even though I try not to because of the way guilt and shame make me feel.
The men treated us like animals before the auction, and none of us expected a different treatment after they sold us. Like Markus said, the other girls face a much worse fate than me, and I have no doubt about that.
I take one last look at my reflection. The bruises on my face are almost gone, and my eye looks normal. My hair is freshly washed but uncombed, and I could use some good Chapstick, but other than that, I look like me again. I just don’t feel like me.
When I exit the bathroom, Markus is standing next to the door, leaning against the wall like he’s been waiting for me. I’m a bit startled but not at all surprised. He’s like a shadow, always a few feet behind me.
“I’m going into town for some supplies. I can’t trust you yet, so you’re going downstairs while I’m gone. Grab some pillows from the linen closet,” he orders, pointing toward a narrow door next to the bathroom.
“Can I ask you a question?”
I’m learning that asking questions isn’t the best thing because I rarely get an answer I want. Still, I have to ask this one because it’s burning a hole in the back of my mind.
Markus shrugs. “You can ask anything you like, but there isn’t much I’ll answer.”
“Do you know what happens to girls if they are not sold at the auction?” I ask as I’m getting out the pillows.
His lips form into a thin line. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t a girl be sold?”
I nervously chew on my bottom lip. “There were five of us when the night started out. One girl was so scared, she tried to make a run for it. That guy, the one you… killed,” I clear my throat, suddenly feeling like I’ve got a lump lodged inside, “he hurt her, she was bleeding badly. The other man took her away. Do you know what happened to her?”
“She’s probably dead.” He shrugs, answering like he is telling me what’s playing at the movie theater today. “If she isn’t, they probably sold her to a brothel or to someone outright for less money than she would have brought them at auction.”
His words hit me like a punch in the gut. He basically just confirmed my worst fear.
Clinging onto the pillows, I follow Markus down the stairs in silence. I’m actually looking forward to being alone for once since all I want to do right now is cry. Cry for the girl who is probably dead.
At the bottom of the stairs, Markus stops. “Go pick a book.” He motions to the small bookshelf next to the fireplace. “I’ll be gone a while since the next town is hours away.”
Still shocked by what Markus just told me about the girl, I move around the living room on autopilot. I don’t even look at what book I grab. I simply add it to the grip I have on one of the pillows and walk down to the basement with Markus following behind me. When I reach the cell, I shiver. This place is so dark and cold. Lifeless—just like that girl.
Back in the cell, I drop the pillows in the corner and plop down on them. Markus stands in the door for a few moments, his gaze lingering on me as if he is having second thoughts about leaving. It would be nice if he took me with him, but I’m dazed by it. I’m his captive, not his girlfriend, as he likes to frequently remind me.
“I’ll be back later,” he finally says. The door closes behind him, and the sound of the lock clicking in place follows right after.
Only then, when I’m alone again, do I let the tears escape.
I cried for a while until I finally picked up the book just to keep my mind off things. Again, I wonder why he is acting kind to me. Why give me a book and pillows?
Everything he does and says is a contradiction. He says he doesn’t care about anything I want or feel, but in the same breath, he is worried about my comfort. It doesn’t make sense.
I’m almost at chapter eight when I hear the lock disengage, and the door opens. Markus’s large body fills the doorframe a moment later.
“Come on, I’m hungry.” He frowns. Apparently, the time outside has darkened his mood.
Scrambling off the floor, I drop the book and try to keep up with him as he leaves the cell. He climbs the stairs like he is in a hurry, and I wonder if he is really that hungry or if something else is going on.
“Put the groceries away and fix something to eat. I have some work to do that can’t wait,” he tells me while taking a seat at the kitchen table. I try not to stare when I see the laptop sitting on the table. It’s the first time I’ve seen it, and I can’t help but wonder what kind of stuff he has saved in there?
Could it be… The question trails off in my mind when Markus scoots his chair in. It reminds me of the man sitting in the same chair, struggling to get loose, and scooting the chair across the floor in the process.
All those memo
ries come rushing back, and all I can do is stand there. Frozen in place, I stare at him sitting at the table, only a few feet away from where he shot that man in cold blood.
“You need to get over that,” Markus growls. “Yes, someone died here. It’s done and over with. There is no need to worry. I bleached the place. It’s all clean, now do what I told you to.” He doesn’t even blink, and I wonder if he’s even human. If there is even a part of him that shows empathy and guilt. Does he even care? All clean? Does he think I’m worried about it not being sanitary? Does he really think that’s my problem?
“Fallon, I’m losing my patience,” he warns, and I know there is no getting out of this.
“I’m sorry…” I look anywhere but at that wall because it reminds me of everything that Markus is. It takes all the kindness he’s shown me and shits on it.
“Don’t be sorry. Just do what I told you to,” he barks, and the coldness in his voice touches me in the tips of my toes.
Something foul must’ve happened to put him in such a bad mood.
Forcing my legs to move, I step into the kitchen and toward the shopping bags piled on the counter. I’m a twisted knot, my insides churning, but manage to unpack the groceries even with my hands shaking.
“Do you care what I cook?” I ask when I’m finished stocking the fridge.
“I’ll eat whatever.”
“Okay, I’ll fry some chicken.” I get the chicken, broccoli, and some potatoes back out to prepare.
Not wanting to ask any more questions, I look for everything I need. I quickly find a cutting board, spices, and a pan. Then, I spot the knife block next to the stove.
It doesn’t even dawn on me that he is giving me access to a weapon until the heavy butcher knife is nestled against my palm.
Glancing up at him, I find his eyes are already on me, and his lips are pulled up into an unsettling grin. “I’ll have you disarmed twice before you have a chance to nick me with that, so don’t even think about it. It won’t end well for you.”
“I wasn’t thinking about attacking you,” I say truthfully. “I’m just surprised you let me handle a knife, but I wasn’t thinking about stabbing you with it. I’m not like you. I don’t think I could ever hurt someone.”
“You’d be surprised what you’re capable of when your life depends on it.”
“Maybe,” I murmur, looking at the shiny blade.
“You don’t think you would try to slit my throat if I was treating you differently? If I was starving or beating you every day? If you had to choose between my life or your life? I can guarantee that you would try to kill me in a heartbeat.”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry as the desert. “I don’t know.”
Truly, I don’t know. I have never been put in a situation like that, never been pushed to my limits, having to fight for my life. Could I kill someone so easily? No, but he’s right. If it was my life or his, then I would do everything I could to save myself.
“Don’t overthink it. Anyone smart would try to kill the person hurting them.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I whisper, and it’s the truth.
I don’t want to hurt him. Not even after all that’s happened to me while being here with him. I’m not like him. I’m not capable of hurting or destroying. Markus and I are nothing alike. He is darkness and agony. I’m light and happiness. We’re on two different spectrums of the universe.
“You don’t have to feel guilt over it. I’d expect you to hurt me. Hell, part of me is just waiting for you to act out. To try and poison me or attack me.”
I can’t help myself. I let out a laugh. “Poison you? Where would I get poison? And attack you? I’m not stupid. I know you’d have me subdued in a second flat, so I’m not about to waste either of our time with that.”
I look from the cutting board and find a small, what could be considered a figment of my imagination, smile tugging at his lips.
“Every time I think I have you figured out, you show me a different side of you. You’re something else, Fallon.”
The way he says my name makes my belly heat. It’s a stupid reaction, one I should not have toward him. I can’t control my treacherous body when he is near or when he acts with kindness. It’s like beneath the armor, he is a different person altogether, and the weight of the world, his world, has caused him to build up high walls.
I wonder if I’ll get the chance to see who he really is? If I’ll break through that steel armor plate he wears like a second skin before I find what I need and escape.
The universe tells me, no, but a small, tiny part of me hopes I do because even if I don’t want to admit it, there has to be something decent that lives inside of him.
Otherwise, I’m sure I’d already be dead.
14
Markus
When I wake up the next morning, Fallon is plastered against my side. Her tied hands are pulled against her chest like she is praying. Vulnerable. Fragile. A treasured jewel. That’s how she looks to me. It’s wrong, fucked up even, but I stare at her, watching her sleep for a few blissful moments. Only in sleep is she not scared of me.
I wonder briefly if this is what Julian felt when he signed the contract for Elena. The magnetic pull to something he shouldn’t want but can’t give up. An addiction of sorts. I’m aware that Fallon is slowly becoming that to me.
The more time I spend with her, the more I grow invested. It’s getting hard to brush it off, to act like it’s nothing.
Sometimes, I think she can see right through me. See the act I’m playing. She never calls me out, though, and thankfully so, because I’m not sure what I would do if she did. I have to keep up an image, have to keep her in line. I fell for a woman once before in my life, and it shattered me when I lost her. There is no room for love in the mob. It takes everything you cherish most and grinds it right into the ground.
The idea of physically hurting her makes my chest quake and my heart hurt. I want to possess her, fuck her through the bed, and over every surface in this house. I want to protect her and control her, but I don’t want to hurt her. That much, I know.
Like a baby kitten, she nuzzles into my chest, seeking comfort. She knows I’m her only protection. It’s almost laughable. I bet if she was awake right now, she’d be losing her mind.
In her pretty eyes, I’m the enemy, a cruel bastard that’s unhinged and willing to kill anyone that stands in my way. She doesn’t know that’s all I’ve ever known, and the way it has to be. It’s kill or be killed in my world.
I’m just about to roll out of bed and head downstairs to make some coffee when her bare thigh brushes against my morning wood. It’s the briefest bit of contact, a mere graze, a completely innocent movement, but I’ll be damned if it’s not enough to set me off.
As if the universe is testing me and one time isn’t enough. She does it again, following the movement with a soft little groan that slips from her plump lips.
I don’t know why I continue to deny myself the things I want. I paid a million dollars for her. I should be able to take her whenever and wherever I want. However, that mentality doesn’t seem to stick.
When it comes to sex with her, I need her willing, hot, and begging for my cock. I don’t want to take anything… I want her to want me as badly as I want her.
That’s what makes this even more complicated. I want her to want me, want her to need me while knowing that this is a ship that will never make port. Caught up in my thoughts, I fail to notice she’s now awake and startle a bit when my eyes connect with hers.
Her gaze is molten lava, as if she is feeding off my own lust. She licks her lips, and I swear to fucking god, pre-cum beads the tip of my cock. I’ve envisioned those lips wrapped around my cock so many times in the last few days. It’s going to happen again soon, but right now, I need something else…
“Are you still sore?” I don’t even recognize my own voice.
“Not really,” she replies, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.
; I’d like to fuck her hard and fast. That way, I can disconnect from the feelings being inside of her bring out of me, but I don’t want to hurt her.
“I want to try something.” I inch back, so I can grab her wrists.
She watches with curiosity as I undo the binds and drop the rope to the floor. Rubbing at her wrists and ankles, she looks up at me through thick lashes. Her eyes are still a little sleepy, giving her that, I just rolled out of bed look.
“What are you going to do to me?” Her voice cracks as I sit up and move to hover above her. She flashes her pussy at me as she moves up the bed, bracing herself against the pillows. A pussy that I’ve been dying to have my tongue in since I saw her on that stage.
“Anything I want.” I grin.
Since arriving here, I’ve just been pent up with need, my aggression and possessiveness overshadowing and taking over my most basic instincts, making it hard for me to slow down for anything.
I have yet to go down on her, mainly because it’s not something I often do. Eating pussy out is reserved for lovers, those you care about. Anytime I had sex, it was to get my dick wet and nothing else.
However, I find myself wanting to taste Fallon now. I want to be feasting on her pussy, take my time, and savor every morsel like it’s my last meal. Savor her.
Bracing myself on my knees, I place a hand against her knee and gently push her legs apart. I nearly groan. She’s wet for me. Her folds glisten with arousal.
“You want me?” I ask, even though the evidence is right in front of me.
“Yes… but I want…” She looks away, almost bashfully.
“Oh no, you don’t,” I command and grab her by the chin, forcing her to look into my eyes. She can hide from the rest of the world, but she cannot hide from me. “You have no reason to be shy now. Tell me what you want.”
Her lips press into a thin line, and she seems to hesitate before opening her mouth to speak again. “I was thinking maybe. This time you could be gentle with me.”