Fear And Honor: A Time Travel Romance (The Lightwood Affair Book 2)

by M. S. Parker

  “Now, let's return to our conversation.” He ran the back of his hand down my cheek.

  “I don't know what you want me to tell you.”

  He grinned. “You're going to give me the names of all the rebels you know in the colonies. Then we're going to talk about how much money your husband will give me to get you back.”

  Harry began to walk slowly back and forth in front of me, his muscles straining against his filthy shirt as he moved. He reminded me of one of those intimidating Hell’s Angels that wore leather from head to foot and guzzled beer by the gallon. Except he smelled much worse.

  “I don't know any rebels,” I said, keeping my chin up, gaze straight ahead.

  Harry shook his head, his expression one of disappointment. Those black eyes of his, however, were alight with something else entirely. Something with which I was certain I didn't want to become acquainted.

  “King George will pay me handsomely for each name I give him.”

  Harry came closer, and I fought not to gag. I was no stranger to the inability to bathe daily, but the man smelled like he'd never even heard of soap...or plain water, for that matter.

  “I don't have names,” I insisted.

  He regarded me for a few seconds before speaking again. “How much do you think your husband will pay for damaged goods?”

  The question was without inflection, almost matter-of-fact, and it chilled me to the bone. The meaning of the phrase damaged goods wasn't something that had changed from this time to mine, not in this particular type of situation.

  “Gracen knows enough people in high places that if you hurt me, you'll regret it.”

  Harry didn't even blink as he grabbed my hair and whipped out a knife. Not some little blade, but the sort of knife that reminded me of the kind Americans would eventually call a Bowie knife.

  “I think it might be worth it,” he said as he pressed the cold metal to my cheek. “I want to hear you scream.”

  If I hadn't been tied up, I might've been paralyzed with fear. This wasn't an empty threat. I could see it in his eyes. He meant it.

  He sawed off a chunk of my hair, then bent down and cut a piece of fabric from my dress. “In a bit, your husband is going to get proof that I have you, and he'll be wondering what all I'm doing to you. You're going to sit here and think about giving me what I want in the morning, or I’ll find a way to make you talk.”

  “Waste all the time you want,” I said, summoning up as much bravado as I could. “I can't give you what I don't have.”

  I saw him draw back his hand, was aware of it coming toward me, but I couldn't dodge the blow. The backhand caught me across the cheek, snapping my head back, and bringing tears to my eyes.

  “Tomorrow morning,” he said. “And if you so much as try to escape, I will take you apart one piece at a time until you spill all of your secrets. And then I will make you watch me do the same to your husband.”

  I glared at him, eyes stinging and pride smarting as I couldn't stop the tears from running down my cheeks.

  “Fuck you,” I spat.

  Probably not the smartest thing I could've said, but I wasn't going to give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing how much his threat scared me. I couldn't say for certain that I'd be able to withstand torture, but I knew I'd give up everything if Gracen was put in harm's way.

  “Not tonight.” Harry showed off his rotting teeth with a barbaric grin. “I got a sweet little thing already waiting to do that.”

  My stomach roiled at the thought of what he was going to do to that poor girl, of what he'd already done to her.

  “And don't go dreaming of some rescue either. No one can hear you in here, and no one else will come down here. Even if anyone knew you were down here, no one's gonna take a prize from Harry Pasternak.”

  Several seconds later, he was gone, and I was alone in the dark, wondering if this was how history was going to put itself back on track. I'd disappear from the timeline, never to be heard from again. Gracen would return home, thinking that I'd left for my own time, and his path would return to what it had been before I'd come into his life.

  “Please,” I whispered into the darkness. “Please, Gracen. I'm still here. Don't give up on me.”

  I repeated the plea over and over again until I dropped into a light and restless doze, my body's feeble attempt to prepare me for what was to come.

  Chapter 21

  I’d enlisted in the armed forces as a medic, but that didn't mean I hadn't learned how to fight, shoot, and push my body to the limit. I'd been tested physically and psychologically, but when it came to torture, there was only so much a person could be trained to withstand since actually practicing those sorts of vile acts on US soldiers wasn't allowed.

  I doubted it would've done much good anyway.

  Celina came to see me first, bringing some cold broth that she fed me herself. She refused to look at me and ignored all attempts at conversation, but that didn't stop me from seeing the pained way she moved or the bruises that covered what little skin wasn't covered.

  As I watched her disappear back up the stairs, I felt panic creeping in again. As I'd slid in and out of wakefulness through the night, I tried telling myself that it wasn't as bad as it seemed. That Gracen would arrive before Harry could try anything. That my kidnapper wasn't actually as horrific as he appeared. That he wouldn't do any of the awful things he'd said.

  One look at Celina and I knew Harry would do all of it...and more.

  When I heard the door open again, I clenched my jaw and promised myself that no matter what he did to me, I wouldn't betray anyone, not the ones I knew of personally, nor the people I knew would make history.

  “Good morning,” Harry said as he came down the stairs.

  The light from his lantern glinted off of something in his other hand, and it didn't take much guesswork for me to realize it was the knife he'd used last night to cut my hair and skirt.

  “I like knives.”

  Well, that boded well for me.

  He looked down at his knife, running his thumb along the side of the blade. “Some guys like to hit to get information, but I find that something a little...sharper works better.”

  I really didn't like the sound of that.

  “Are you going to tell me what I want to know?” He smiled as he came over to me, knife in hand. “Please, tell me no.”

  “Why'd you have to make things so complicated?” I asked with a sigh. “You want me to tell you no, but you also want me to give you names, and I can't decide which will piss you off more so I can do just that.”

  His expression hardened, his eyes flashing with anger. He lunged forward, and I was suddenly staring at the tip of his blade, less than an inch from my eye.

  “Maybe I should put that eye out. Help you see things better.”

  I wanted to pull away, struggle against my restraints, but my gut told me that any sign of fear would only spur him on. He meant what he'd said, that a part of him wanted me to refuse to tell him anything so he could torture me.

  “I promise you,” I said evenly, “that you will not get anything out of me.”

  He dragged the tip of his knife down my forearm, tearing through fabric and skin. Hot pain flared and blood spilled, but I kept my lips pressed together, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing me cry. I didn't know how long that resolve would last, but I hoped it'd be long enough to piss him off.

  By the time he left, my clothes were soaked with blood, and my throat was raw from screaming curses at him. Celina came in then and cleaned me up the best she could. The cuts didn't seem to be too deep, which I supposed was good since I didn't need to worry about bleeding to death, but it didn't make them hurt any less.

  “Give him what he wants,” she whispered as she removed the tattered remains of my gown. “He will not stop until you do.”

  I shook my head. “I can't. I won't.”

  Her eyes flicked to mine for a moment. “You will.”

  I didn't sleep after
she left, though consciousness faded in and out. Part of me thought I could almost hear Gracen calling for me, but every time I tried to reach for him, I snapped back into my prison, only to repeat it all over again.

  Then he was there again, forcing me to stand so he could start on my back. He didn't use the knife on my breasts, but the way he kept fondling them told me that he'd get to them when we reached the part of the interrogation that he was really looking forward to. The growing bulge in his pants didn't leave any doubt as to what that would be.

  After a couple hours, I finally sagged against my restraints, unable to keep myself upright any longer. I was tired, and I didn't know how much longer I'd be able to stay awake. I wouldn't give in, of that much I was certain. I was in more pain now than I'd ever been, but I wasn't even tempted to give Harry anything. What I was afraid of, however, was that I wouldn't wake up at all and that I'd leave Gracen all alone to face a future that he knew just enough about to fear.

  It was the thought of him coming for me that made me hang on, made me fight when I knew it would be so much simpler to give up.

  “I think perhaps it is time to abandon this course altogether.”

  My eyes opened, but I still couldn't get my feet underneath me. Harry leered at me, the expression on his face clearly saying what he had in mind. He grabbed my hair, jerking my head up until we were face to face. His free hand grabbed at my breast, squeezing hard enough to hurt. Or, at least, it would've hurt if almost every other part of my body wasn't already in agony.

  “Listen good,” he said, tightening his grip on my hair. “You ain't gave me anything, and your husband clearly ain't gonna pay, so I got to get something out of it. And if I do it right, maybe you'll tell me what I want to know.”

  “Never.”

  He grinned. “We shall see.”

  He let go of my breast and shoved his hand under my shift and up between my legs. I tried to twist away, tears running down my face as he tried to get his fingers inside me.

  “That the best you got, you fucking son of a bitch!”

  He laughed as he shoved me away from him, my arms jerking painfully against my restraints.

  “You ain't gettin' off that easy,” he said as he straightened. “I aim to take my time with you.”

  I barely suppressed a shiver, and it wasn't one of anticipation. He grabbed his crotch, rubbing as he licked his lips. For a moment, I wondered if he'd get himself off like that, then leave me for the rest of the day.

  “I’ll be back.”

  He disappeared up the stairs, bellowing for Celina as he went. The door slammed, and a few seconds later, I heard a woman's voice. I couldn't make out the words, but the tone was clearly pleading. His voice was louder, accompanied by a few solid thunks that I knew were fists on flesh.

  Then she started to scream...

  Chapter 22

  I pulled my knees up to my chest, pressing my forehead against them, trying to block out everything around me. Though it had been quiet for a while now, Celina’s screams were still imprinted in my head, playing over and over and over again. I'd heard screams like that before, ones that were full of as much pain as they were terror, and I knew that she was being tortured. Not like I was, with cuts designed to extricate information, but for Harry's pleasure alone.

  When she'd gone quiet, my imagination filled in the blanks with all sorts of horrible what-ifs. Harry could have satiated his appetite, which meant he'd be returning to me, and it would be my turn to scream. He might have simply silenced her, but I doubted it. Everything I'd learned about him told me that he was a sadist – not the kinky S&M kind but the sadist sociopath kind. He'd want to hear her suffer. Which meant that her silence could have come from her passing out. In which case, he was either continuing to abuse her unconscious body or was quickly tiring of torture without any response.

  Or he'd killed her.

  Based on what I believed he was doing, I wasn't sure that death was the worst of the options.

  Suddenly, footsteps were coming this way, and I knew my time was up.

  I tried to ready myself for what was to come even though I knew that no length of time or mental toughening would prepare me for what I knew he was going to do to me. Just as every soldier on active duty knew that capture and torture was a possibility, every female soldier knew that rape was almost certain if she was taken prisoner.

  That knowledge still couldn't prepare me for the fear that coursed through my body. It didn't stop me from pulling at my restraints even though I knew I couldn't get free. It didn't keep me from running through a thousand different scenarios as I tried to decide the best way to respond once Harry started putting his hands on me. From a medical perspective, I knew that the more I fought, the worse he would hurt me, and from a psychological standpoint, if my guess about him being a sexual sadist was accurate, then the more I struggled and the more I hurt, the more aroused he'd become.

  Despite all of that, I wasn't sure I could voluntarily refrain from resisting. I knew there was the possibility that my body would freeze on its own, that I'd be unable to fight back. But I didn't think I could make it a conscious choice.

  The door opened, and the top step creaked. Adrenaline dumped into my veins, racing through my body. The good part of that was that it chased away the pain from my wounds, the bad was that I was completely and totally aware of everything now. Any hope I'd had of blacking out was gone for a while.

  I pulled at my restraints, barely able to feel the ties biting into my wrists. “I don't care what you do to me, I'm not telling you shit.” My voice was rough, and it hurt to talk, but I wasn't going to give Harry the satisfaction of knowing how terrified I was. “When I get free, I'm going to kill you. Slowly.”

  He hadn't brought a lantern with him, and not being able to see him coming made it so much worse. I could hear his breathing, hear the shuffle of feet on dirt, and my entire body tensed, trembled. Tears spilled down my cheeks, and I found it hard to breathe.

  I couldn't take it anymore. “Just get it over with, you bastard!”

  Suddenly, he was there, and I braced myself for his touch, for the smell of him...except it didn't come.

  “Shhh, Honor. I need you to be quiet now.”

  The familiar voice didn't register at first, my brain rationalizing it as me hearing things. But then I caught the natural scent of sweat and soap.

  “Gracen?” I whispered his name, hardly daring to hope.

  I heard the sounds of flint and tinder. A flicker of flame and light made me hiss, narrowing my eyes, but then I saw him and something inside me cracked. His hair was tied back, letting me see how drawn and tired his face was. He set down a candle and turned toward me. One of his hands cupped my neck as he fit my whole body perfectly into the curve of his. I sagged against him, a small sob catching in my throat. Pain lanced through me, but I welcomed it because it came with the safety of his embrace.

  “You’re here. I never thought I'd see you again. I thought...” I let the words trail off as he eased me back onto my feet.

  “We need to get you out of here,” he said softly.

  I flinched as he drew a knife from his belt, and his eyes widened. I watched his gaze sliding down over me, fury filling his face as he fully registered what he was seeing. I could only imagine how I looked, my shift soaked with filth and blood. I was too exhausted to feel any embarrassment, though I was sure it would come later.

  “I am going to cut your hands free,” he said, his expression back under tight control.

  I nodded my understanding, forcing myself to remain still as he came closer with the blade. I reminded myself that Gracen would never hurt me, that I had nothing to fear from him. As soon as I was free, he put the knife away and started to reach for me.

  “I do not want to hurt you,” he said as he hesitated.

  “I can't make it alone,” I admitted. “I need to lean on you, at least for a minute or two.”

  He nodded, sliding his arm around my waist. I gritted my teeth as bl
ood began to flow back into my arms and hands. The wounds throbbed, and I could feel some of them breaking open again as I moved. Gracen didn't say a word as we made our way toward the stairs, but I could feel the tension in his body.

  When we reached the top, I stopped short, a thought popping into my head, preventing me from going any farther. “No, no. Wait.”

  Gracen looked thoroughly confused. “Honor? Wait for what? We need to leave now, before anyone realizes that you are gone.”

  “Celina. I can't...” I shook my head, wincing as a sharp stab of pain went through my skull. “Have you seen a girl?”

  “No.” He shifted, tightening his hold on me enough for me to sense his anxiety. “Honor, we must go. Now.”

  “She's a servant here, and he's been hurting her,” I said. “We have to find her. I won't leave without her.”

  Chapter 23

  Gracen muttered a few words that had something to do with stubborn women, then spoke to me directly, “We need to leave, my love. You are hurt, and we are in danger the longer we linger here.”

  “He tortured her, Gracen,” I said. “Raped and tortured her. Repeatedly. And that's what he planned on doing to me. I can't leave her to that. If he hasn't killed her already, we have to take her with us.”

  My husband's eyes met mine, and I knew he could see that I meant what I said. He nodded once, and then we started toward the nearby staircase. Every inch of me screamed in protest as we climbed to the next floor, but I pushed the pain to the back of my mind, focusing instead on how to figure out where Celina was. For all I knew, this house was full of people who'd be all too happy to finish what Harry had started.

  As we reached the second floor, however, a pained cry told me that we were in the right place. I pulled myself free from Gracen and went for the first door I saw. Without thinking about the possible consequences, I pushed open the door.

  It took me only a few seconds to register the scene, and it was enough to make me want to throw up.