Master of My Heart

by Marissa Honeycutt

  “What happened?” he asked.

  Her brows twitched. “When?”

  “What happened that made such a pretty girl look so sad? Boyfriend break up with you?”

  “Something like that,” Sabrina mumbled, turning away to look out the window again and wishing he’d leave.

  “Well, then, he must be the stupidest man alive.”

  Sabrina stiffened at the thought of anyone calling Chase stupid. “He’s the best man in the world.”

  Kelvin rolled his eyes. “Anyone who lets someone like you go must be a fool.”

  She looked up and saw the sincerity in his eyes. “It’s a long story.”

  Kelvin leaned forward, arms braced on the table. “Want to talk about it? I’m a good listener.”

  “Not really.”

  “Suit yourself.” He leaned back and stretched his arm along the back of the seat, studying her in silence once more. “Ya know, my girlfriend told me I had to stop impersonating flamingos, so I put my foot down.”

  Sabrina snapped her head around and stared at the man. A girlfriend? His eyes twinkled, but his face was impassive. Flamingos? Foot down?

  She furrowed her brows. “Wait . . . What?”

  Kelvin pressed his lips together, but his shoulders shook. With laughter?

  Stop impersonating flamingos . . .

  Then Sabrina laughed. Hard. So hard, tears streamed down her face. Kelvin’s face lit up and he laughed along with her.

  “Okay, it wasn’t that funny,” he said between bursts of laughter.

  Sabrina bit her lip to stop laughing, but when Kelvin grinned at her, she started again. How long had it been since she’d heard a joke? It felt so good to laugh.

  Kelvin’s eyes twinkled. “God said, ‘Come forth, John, and receive eternal life.’ But John came fifth and won a toaster.”

  Sabrina had just caught her breath, but when he said that, she started giggling again.

  “There are two muffins in an oven. The left muffin looks at the right muffin and says, ‘Wow, it’s getting really hot in here, isn’t it?’ The right muffin looks back and replies, ‘Oh, my God! It’s a talking muffin.’

  “What do you call a cow with no legs? Ground beef.

  “Where would you find a tortoise with no legs? Where you left him.”

  Sabrina laughed until her sides ached. “I haven’t laughed so hard in . . . I dunno,” she said, wiping the tears from her face, still giggling. She felt relaxed with this man, this stranger. None of the men she’d known over the last five years had bothered to tell silly jokes to cheer her up.

  “Do you drink?” he asked as she sobered. “I can’t think of any more jokes and you’re getting sad again.”

  Sabrina glanced out the window. “Not really.” She supposed she was old enough now. Ramon didn’t approve of women getting drunk. Men, yes, but not women. Being drunk dulled the pain too much.

  Kelvin tilted his head. “It might help you cheer up. I’ve got some decent stuff in my room. I’d bring it here, but . . .” He shrugged. “Not allowed to drink in the public cars on the train.”

  Sabrina studied his face. He appeared quite sincere.

  “If it makes you feel better, we won’t be alone. I’m sharing a room with a couple buddies.”

  That didn’t exactly make Sabrina feel better. She pursed her lips.

  Kelvin laughed. “They’re gay and quite amusing to be around.” Kelvin tilted his head. “I promise. It’ll be more fun than sitting here all night.”

  Sabrina tapped her fingertips on the table, then gave a small smile. It might be nice to have something to distract her from the ache in her heart. “Okay,” she agreed slowly.

  Chapter Seven

  Hey, miss? Wake up.”

  Sabrina groaned and pried open her gritty eyes. She lay face down on a bed, her skin chilled and hair wet.

  “Are you awake?” a young man’s anxious voice intruded on her confusion.

  With effort, Sabrina pushed herself up and turned onto her side, squinting at the blurry figure across the room. “Where am I?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

  “You’re in your room on the train. We arrived in Chicago an hour ago.”

  Sabrina sat up and groaned as her head pounded. Slowly, her vision cleared. A young man, about her age, stood in the doorway wearing the uniform of a train worker. He glanced down at her body and his cheeks turned pink. She looked down and saw she was undressed. She grasped the sheet to cover herself.

  “An hour ago?” she asked, pushing her hair out of her face.

  The young man nodded, focusing hard on her face. “Y-Yes, miss.”

  “Okay,” she said slowly and studied the young man. He’d been the attendant on duty when she’d gotten on the train yesterday. She thought his name was Zane. An unusual name for such an ordinary-looking guy. “Do you know what happened?”

  He shook his head. “I know you weren’t in your room all day, but that’s not unusual. Most people aren’t.” He chewed his lip. “I’m sorry, but you really must disembark.”

  Sabrina nodded. “Of course. Give me . . .” She looked around, still trying to get oriented. “Give me a sec and I’ll get off.”

  “Thank you.”

  The attendant nodded and backed out of the room, closing the door behind him. Sabrina scooted to the end of the bed and reached into her bag for some clothes, wracking her brain for any sort of memory of what happened.

  The last thing she remembered was being upset and going for a walk around the train to clear her head. Then . . . Then she met someone . . . What was his name? Calvin? Kevin? Kelvin. He’d seemed harmless enough. Kind. Funny. Not interested in anything other than being friendly.

  She dressed as quickly as her stiff limbs allowed, trying to remember what happened after that, but nothing came to mind. After she was dressed, she searched her room to see if she’d forgotten anything before shoving her jacket into her bag. She groaned and held her head as she opened the door and stumbled down the narrow hallway to the back of the train. Zane waited near the stairway.

  “Sorry about that,” she murmured, rubbing her face.

  He smiled and gave a small shrug. “Can’t say it’s never happened before,” he said with a laugh, which made Sabrina feel a little better. “Have a good rest of your trip.”

  “Thanks.”

  She trudged down the stairs and into the hot, muggy air beneath Union Station, still trying to remember what happened. Once upstairs inside the cooler, white-marbled terminal, she sat down on a bench. The clock on the wall indicated it was a little after four, so she had about five hours until the train to Boson left.

  Her body ached, she still didn’t know what happened on the train, and she just wanted to find a nice soft bed to crawl into and go to sleep.

  A glimmer of a memory popped into the forefront of her mind.

  I feel better than I have in a while. I feel relaxed . . . so relaxed. Kelvin grins, watching me sip my third drink. No wonder people drink. It feels wonderful.

  The room starts to spin. I look at my plastic cup, then at Kelvin, who starts moving closer. He puts his hand on my leg. “Feeling better?” he asks in a low voice, sliding his hand up my thigh.

  I giggle, not really sure why. “Yeah. I feel funny, though,” I say, my voice slurring slightly. Funny and suddenly horny. I put my hand on his and slide it higher. He raises his eyebrows as I lean forward to kiss him. Hard.

  Sabrina leaned forward and groaned. She remembered. She’d felt warm, cozy, and wanted sex so badly, she’d practically attacked Kelvin. Then she had sex with his two buddies. No matter that they were gay and a couple. The four of them drank and had sex for hours. She remembered talking a lot.

  She gasped as her stomach knotted. Sabrina remembered telling them about her escape. All about her escape. Quickly sitting up, she grabbed her ba
g, pushing everything aside.

  “No!” she cried.

  Her money was gone! All of it! She had no doubt Kelvin and his friends had taken it. She searched her bag more carefully and gave a quiet thank you to the universe that nothing else had been taken. Even Chase’s ring was still safely tucked away in the rolled socks she’d put it in after dinner the previous night.

  Sabrina stared into her bag, willing the money to reappear. But it was no use. She had no other means of paying for anything. Yes, she had her ticket to Boston, but it was for a regular seat. No cozy room. No meals included.

  Hot tears started rolling down her cheeks. What on earth would she do now?

  She had two options. Go on to Boston, as originally planned, and pray her fate would work out, or stay in Chicago and figure out how to make a living here.

  The ticket to Boston was already paid for and she had an audition to look forward to. At least she knew a few people there. Even if she wasn’t good enough to make it into the company, maybe she could ask Martin for help finding a job.

  Or I could call Chase’s mom . . .

  No!

  Sabrina couldn’t bear the thought of facing Mrs. Ralston. She didn’t want to see the disappointment on the woman’s face when she found out Sabrina had become a murdering whore. No, she couldn’t go to her. But maybe Martin would help. Or Angie, who ran the summer program, if she was still around.

  Too bad she wasn’t still Immortal. Then she could seduce some money out of a man.

  Sabrina shook her head. She didn’t want to be that person anymore. She may have been turned into a whore and a murderer, but that didn’t mean she still had to act like one. It wouldn’t change who she really was, but maybe she could pretend she wasn’t.

  For a while anyway.

  The thought didn’t give her much hope, but it was better than nothing.

  She stared at the white marble floor, willing herself to believe that things would get better, that things would be okay, but the longer she thought about it, the harder it became.

  Her stomach growled and clenched, reminding her that she didn’t have any money to get dinner. When was the last time she ate? Did she eat at all while she was with Kelvin and his friends? She didn’t think several mouthfuls of cum counted.

  How on earth was she going to make it to Wednesday, or through the audition for that matter, if she didn’t have money to eat?

  She stood and put on her jacket, deciding to find a water fountain. Water in her stomach was better than nothing. Her mind circled around, trying to figure out how to eat for the next two days. She didn’t focus on anything other than that. She couldn’t. It was too much to bear.

  Near the bathrooms, she spotted a water fountain and leaned down to take a sip of the cold, not-very-good liquid. Better than nothing, she reminded herself.

  As she turned to walk away, she shoved her hands into her pockets and froze. When she pulled her hand out, she stared at the folded papers.

  Money!

  Sabrina quickly unfolded it and bounced up and down on her toes as she sent up a prayer of thanks. In her hands were two crisp bills totaling thirty dollars. Her heart soared as she hurried out of the station and looked around for an inexpensive place to eat.

  *****

  The sun was high in the sky when Sabrina awoke on the train the next morning. The plush, navy-blue seats were spacious and comfortable. No one sat next to her, so she was able to lay across both seats and stretch out a bit. She didn’t feel as achy as she had when she went to sleep.

  She yawned and glanced at her watch. Almost one o’clock. Her stomach grumbled, so she headed to the snack car, keenly aware of her limited amount of money. She’d managed to keep her dinner the night before to under ten dollars, ensuring she’d have enough for the rest of the trip.

  Looking up at the menu in the snack car, she gaped at the prices. She hadn’t paid attention before. Five dollars for a bottle of water? They couldn’t be serious, could they? The lady behind the counter mentioned to another passenger that there were stations in the cars where bottles could be refilled. That would help, but still . . .

  She knew she needed to eat something, though, so she bought a bottle of water, a sandwich, and a couple pieces of fruit, spending fifteen of her twenty dollars. As she headed back to her seat, she prayed it would hold her over her until she arrived in Boston.

  She only needed to make it through today. The audition was tomorrow. One day at a time.

  Then what? She dropped into her seat and closed her eyes, trying not to cry. Fear clawed at her chest and threatened to overwhelm her, but she lifted her chin and swallowed hard. There was no turning back now. The only feasible direction was forward. She certainly didn’t want to go back to where Khyan might find her.

  She was almost to Boston. She was determined to make it.

  Somehow.

  One day at a time.

  What other choice did she have?

  About eight p.m., the train pulled into the Boston station. She made her way off, along with the hundred other people in her car, then sat down on a bench to think, kicking herself for spending so much money. But what else could she have done? The food in the station wasn’t much cheaper, and it was dark outside. She wasn’t stupid enough to go wandering around an unknown city at night.

  Now what? She only had five dollars left.

  She looked around, feeling hopeless. There were businessmen in the area. Maybe one of them would pay me to—

  No! She wouldn’t sell herself. She wasn’t that desperate!

  Yet.

  She slowly chewed a bite of apple as she looked around the station. Where would she sleep? Five dollars wouldn’t buy her a hotel room.

  Maybe she should call Mrs. Ralston—

  No. She was a respectable woman. She wouldn’t take in a whore off the streets.

  Sabrina spotted an empty bench in a dirty corner on the far side of the station and started walking toward it. Maybe she could just sleep on that bench. Would anyone notice her? It was a public building.

  Was there really another option? A bench was better than the floor.

  Sabrina put the last of her precious dollars into the bottom of her bag, then scrunched it under her head before she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Sabrina’s heart twisted as she woke the next morning, her dreams having been full of angry, lustful men. She shook her head, trying to dispel the anxiety swirling around her. She wasn’t in her dreams. She was safe in Boston, far away from the hell she’d lived in for so long.

  She could do this. One thing at a time.

  The auditions started at ten. Glancing at the clock on a nearby wall, she saw that she had about an hour. She wandered around the station for a few minutes until she located a bathroom. Twenty minutes later, she felt . . . Well, not exactly better, but cleaner.

  As she studied the map Mr. Baker had given her, she realized the ballet studio was only a few blocks away. She could walk and save her money.

  Sabrina wrapped her thin jacket tightly around her body and followed the map to the studio. By the time she stopped on the cobblestone sidewalk across from the four-story red-brick building, she was shivering.

  She studied the brass letters declaring the building home of the Boston Ballet Company. She’d been here once before. Five years ago, during the summer program when she’d met Chase. The ballet school was a few blocks down the street, so the summer dancers had come here one day during the camp to see the professional dancers.

  Sabrina closed her eyes and felt the summer sun on her skin as she remembered the excitement of approaching the building. It had been the fourth week of camp . . .

  “Maybe we’ll meet one of the male dancers,” Beth says with excitement in her blue eyes, her fiery red hair glinting in the light. “And he’ll see us and fall madl
y in love.”

  I giggle at my friend’s exaggerated expression. “They’re so much older than us.” I shake my head. “Besides, they have all the other ballerinas to look at all day long.”

  Beth shrugs. “We’re different and new. Guys like new girls.”

  I shake my head. “You’re silly.”

  We follow Angie into the building and up the stairs to a huge studio where the principals and soloists stand in the middle of the floor, casually watching an older man with spiky salt-and-pepper hair and glasses demonstrate a step.

  “That’s Martin Pierce, the artistic director,” Angie whispers.

  A few dancers notice us in the doorway and nudge one another. Martin tilts his head and furrows his brows, then sees us standing there. His face breaks out into a broad, friendly smile. “Ah, the dancers from the program?” he asks, and Angie nods. “Welcome. Come on in. Have a seat.” He motions to the side wall. We file in and sit down. He turns back to the professional dancers. “Shall we try again?”

  The memory faded and Sabrina opened her eyes, the chilly fall air surrounding her once more. That had been a lifetime ago.

  Her heart raced then as it did now, but for completely different reasons. It was excitement then. Now it was from complete and utter nerves.

  A wave of determination filled her. Sabrina took a deep breath, lifted her chin, and crossed the street with long, confident strides . . . for the first few steps. Her gait shortened and her chin dropped so that she was staring at the cobblestones as she reached the opposite sidewalk. She couldn’t bring herself to open the glass door. Several people walked past her to go inside while she stood there, frozen with fear. The warmth coming out of the building tempted her, but fear kept her feet glued to the sidewalk.

  “Are you here for the auditions?” asked a male voice beside her, his heavy Bostonian accent washing over her like a warm blanket.

  Sabrina blinked and backed away before she looked up at who spoke to her. A man in his mid-twenties with ruffled, dark blond hair and warm, chestnut-brown eyes stood there, smiling. Something about him seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place his face. It wasn’t a reassuring feeling.