by V. F. Mason
“No.” It was the truth. He made the deal, after all, and I accepted it.
A deal with the devil.
“Good. Never doubt what I say.” The warning was clear in his voice.
“Why did you take me?”
“I told you. I wanted you.” I shifted back, because he was coming, and I was afraid of what he would do.
“Please.” My voice was pleading, but I was terrified out of my mind.
“Please what, Sapphire?” The way he said my name, as if he was savoring the most delicious dessert in the world, was creating havoc in my mind.
Why was his voice so familiar?
“Don’t rape me.” What a stupid request; why else would he have taken me? For some sick reason, he wanted me, and he wouldn't have kidnapped me if he didn't want to rape me.
He paused his steps then snarled, “I wouldn't.”
That was confusing. Who was he?
“Then why do you have me?”
“I don’t answer the same question twice, let alone a third time. I want you, and you will grow to want me. I don’t think it’ll be that hard.”
“Over my dead body.” That probably wasn't the best response, because he could arrange it easily. Finally, he came into view and I held my breath. He was tall, muscular, and had black hair. He was wearing a black shirt and a pair of jeans, and his face wasn't clear to me yet, but a thought came to my mind.
Angel of Death.
Angel of Death?
It couldn't be; it was impossible. I must be wrong.
I stilled and gasped as he leaned down on the mattress. His face was finally close enough for me to see him.
“Damian?” It was a whisper. He smiled, although it didn't reach his eyes.
“The one and only, sweetheart.”
“What did you do to Dominic?” He couldn't have let Damian do this to me, even if he was angry that I cried out his brother’s name in climax. Humiliation ran deep, and I barely stopped myself from looking down from his prying eyes. How could I have wanted Damian? He was a monster.
Killer.
His face hardened, and his eyes became cold as ice.
“Nothing.”
“He wouldn't have let you do this to me.”
“No, he wouldn’t,” he agreed, and then leaned closer, his lips an inch away from mine. I could feel his hot breath on my mouth. “It wasn't like I asked him, Sapphire.” He smirked; he probably found my question funny.
He wouldn't have asked him. That’s true, because Dominic wouldn't have gone along with this shit. He was working with the police investigation to get to the truth. The joke was on him that he lived under the same roof with the guy. The truth would have been devastating for him.
Then another thought entered my mind, making me feel even colder.
“You killed him?” It was a valid question. The man was a sociopath. Who knew what he was capable of? That picture on the piano proved he did have a twin.
I didn't want to think about that.
He pushed back, his face transforming to anger. Damian picked up the chair nearest to the bed and threw it against the wall, and he shouted, “Don’t ever say that again. I would have died for my brother.” Then his voice lowered as he tried to regain control. “You are not here to ask questions, Sapphire.”
“Then what am I here for?”
“For me to finally claim you as mine.”
“Get in, piece of shit.” Dominic was tossed inside roughly. I was already there after another session of fucking by the great S. My brother was bleeding, and he had several fresh bruises. Fuck, he probably got Alfred again. The fucker liked some pain with his fucking. He usually made us kneel in front of him as heavy chains shackled our wrists and feet, making it impossible to move. He would pick up a leather belt, wrap it around our throats, and push his dick into us until he got off. John’s people made sure to watch so he wouldn't choke us to death, and since Alfred got off more while someone else was in the room, they considered it a perfect arrangement.
“He is bleeding.” My voice was harsh. John, the man who kept us prisoner all those years, raised his brow and smiled his snake’s smile that used to send chills down my spine when I was a kid, but not anymore. The only thing I wanted to do to him was kill the motherfucker, and I would.
Someday.
“You wanna say that again, toy?” His favorite nickname for us. I hated it with all my being. We were nothing but pawns for them. As much as I hated the times when we were kids, and he took care of us because we were pretty and sold well, I wished he would give a damn now. Dominic looked worse with each day, and I wasn't sure he would last much longer without help.
“He needs help.” John shrugged and then laughed. The two other guards—who he changed every week, so no one would get attached to us and try to help us—laughed along with him.
“And you think I give a fuck? The clients aren't pleased with you two anymore. They don’t like your height and those bones you have, not to mention you aren't that pretty anymore.” He laughed again, and then he lit a cigarette and exhaled the smoke in my face. “Be grateful someone still wants your used asses, or both of you would be dead.” They kicked Dominic before I could do anything about it, closed the cage, and left.
Again.
I heard Dominic’s cough, kneeled in front of him, removed the only normal shirt I had, and put it under his head so he could lie down and breathe a little easier.
His neck bore the print of the belt with red bruises. His wrists were covered in dried blood, and by the way he tried to adjust his back, the fucker had given him a rough fucking, probably without much lube. Dominic was skinny, exhausted, and wouldn't last much longer if I didn't think of a solution.
I took some clean water from the sink we had, put it in our bowl, took a cloth, and removed some sweat and blood from his body.
There was semen too. It made me furious, because, once again, he was taken without a condom. For the right price, John allowed the clients not to use condoms on us. It wasn't as if he cared about our health that much.
“Damian,” he whispered, and I just shook my head.
“Don’t talk. Let me clean you up, and then you can put some clothes on and lie down. It’s Sunday tomorrow. No one comes on Sunday, so you have a day to rest. They probably spend those days as perfect family men in their houses. Those fuckers.”
At least, I hoped so. He couldn't take another rough fucking from someone, and he was the more popular of the two of us. Apparently, his smile made them harder than mine did, and I hated it. I preferred to experience all the pain, but couldn't help him in those moments. I was stronger than he was; he was too much like our mother, and it was hard to watch him break.
He was all I had. We didn't have our parents anymore. No one who would give a fuck about us. John let us know how grief destroyed them.
There was a whisper of a smile on Dom’s lips at my words that was quickly gone, and he groaned in pain when I cleaned his foot.
“Sorry.”
“That’s okay.” He swallowed some water I brought him, and then his amber eyes, which were a mirror image of mine, focused on me with a question in them. I just raised my brow. We rarely needed words to communicate with each other, but in places like this, it was a damn necessity to talk. Otherwise, we both would have gone crazy. Even the smallest human contact or a few shared words could save our sanity.
“Remember the song Mama used to play on the piano?” His words made me tense, because he was usually the one who brought up the subject of our parents, and I hated that. It was too painful and I saw no sense in it, but it wasn't as if I could deny him anything.
“Yeah.” My voice was hoarse, because I knew what he would ask next of me, and it was slowly killing me inside. Not that I ever told him about it.
“It was a great song, wasn't it? I never remember the lyrics.” Then his hand grabbed the one I was cleaning him with, and his eyes pleaded with me. “Would you sing it to me?” His eyelids were heavy. I was done cle
aning his body, so I helped him lie him down on the pillow, and I covered him with the piece-of-shit blanket that was there. I took a deep breath. I knew he would fall asleep quickly, so it was a no-brainer that I would do it.
He was great with the piano, and I had a good voice. Not that it did me any good.
I cleared my throat, put my hand on his head, and caressed it slowly. Then the sound of my voice filled the black, empty, cold room.
I kept singing. Dominic smiled and grabbed my hand, while I guarded his peace and made sure he could sleep safely.
Memories.
I fucking hated mine and wished I never remembered this song, our parents, our house, or the life we had before this major fuck up. But my brother was in pain, and the only way to soothe him was to sing that song, so I did it and smiled, because both of us couldn't feel pain at the same time.
Someone had to be strong.
I had to be strong.
Sociopath
It was impossible not to hear the sound of her crying in the basement, but oddly enough, it didn't move anything inside me. I understood perfectly her feelings of hopelessness, fear, and distrust, but I couldn’t do anything about it.
She pissed me off with her remark about Dominic, as though I was the one who hurt him. She clearly cared about him, and even though she cried out my name in her moment of passion, he was the one who had her concern and loyalty. It made the beast inside me roar in anger, because I wanted to have those feelings to myself.
I went into the small room next to the main one she was in. I closed the door and stood in front of the mirror.
The man who watched me in the reflection was lethal, angry, and dangerous. Nothing about him was soft. I leaned down on the countertop, rested one of my hands there, and removed the band from my hair with another. I let my hair slide down my shoulders. I preferred to have my normal length, and she would fucking get used to it. She was here with me, Damian, not Dominic. I wasn't going to hide who I was.
Not from her.
Never from her.
Some part of me hated myself in that moment, because I had an innocent, scared girl in my dungeon. I took my victims to that place. She didn't deserve to be there, and everything in me wanted to take her to my room and hold her in my arms.
But another part of me, the sick part, felt thrilled that she was finally with me and I could do with her as I pleased. The visions of her tied to the bed while I fucked her filled me once again, but I didn't let myself get off.
I told myself the next time I came would be with her.
With a last glance at myself, I removed the shirt from my body and disappeared behind the bathroom door.
The game of making her mine was on.
Sapphire
I heard him shut the door. Only God knew what he was doing there, or had in there for that matter. He was a killer. He probably had weapons and shit like what was in the movies. My arms were hurting a little bit from being chained, but it wasn't too tight. I still had room to cover myself fully with the blanket, and I held it tight after his last comment.
Claim you as mine.
Those words sent chills down my body, and I wanted to die.
Okay, that was too dramatic. I wanted to live, but I didn't want to discover what he meant by his comment. Yet, I screamed his name with my orgasm.
It was hard to ignore the voice in my head. I was both humiliated and angry. I wanted the sociopath to go down on me. He probably knew it. He was acting as though sleeping with me was a fucking sure thing. I didn't swear much, but I figured the circumstances were good enough. How I wished to have something on that would make me feel more protected. No, I wanted to be away from here, period. Although he left the light on, I had no clear picture of the room in front of me, and frankly, it sucked. Without my glasses, I could only study nearby objects and the ceiling. The far end of the room stayed a mystery for me though.
The mattress I was on looked new; I was grateful for that. The chandelier was beautiful. It looked as though it was made out of crystal. I was mesmerized watching it. I found it difficult to look away. It looked expensive for this hole, but then, who knew what kind of kicks he had going on? Maybe he preferred to have an expensive interior in the place he liked to kill his victims. The walls were white, unstained as far as I could see. The room also had a couch and TV, and even some carpet. A chair, which was probably very uncomfortable with all those straight lines and no place to put your arms, was slightly farther away. Overall, the room wasn't as terrifying as I initially thought. Not that it made me feel better, but at least I wouldn't live in the constant nightmare before Dominic came after me. He promised he would protect me, so I had faith he would save me. Maybe it was silly, but with no hope from anyone else, he was what I was left with, right?
Suddenly, the door opened, and he was back. He wore only blue jeans that hugged his narrow hips. He was barefoot and shirtless, his long hair damp. He stopped in the doorway, putting both of his arms on the frame as we watched each other.
I hated myself; I did. I also hated him for keeping me here and for being a killer. My breath hitched. I couldn't control my body’s reaction. I craved his hard masculinity. His eyes weren't icy anymore; they were filled with desire. Damian made slow movements toward me, and I backed against the headboard again, but that didn't stop him.
My fear made him more eager. He stopped at the edge of the bed, picked up the blanket I covered myself with, and tugged hard on it.
“Please,” I whispered. The blanket was my last shelter, and he wanted to take it away from me. Although my body reacted to him, my mind did not. “Please,” I whimpered again. He shook his head and tugged on it harder. Finally, my hands let go. My strength was nothing compared to his. He removed the blanket completely then leaned down and, with a key, opened the lock on the chains. Suddenly, my arm was free. I picked it up and winced slightly. My bruised hand had lost feeling. He noticed my discomfort. He took my wrist into his hand and examined it thoroughly.
“Such sensitive skin.” His voice was husky, low, mesmerizing. He softly ran his fingers over the red, angry bruises. I closed my eyes, because I had no desire to see that he could be soft with anything or anyone.
Then I felt it.
His soft lips were on my wrist. I snapped my eyes open. He raised his eyes to mine and we shared a moment of connection, where his amber eyes held my sapphire ones prisoner. It felt like everything else faded away and we were the only two people in the universe. Then his expression hardened and the moment was gone.
He picked me up effortlessly, and I squealed and tried to kick out of his hold, but it was no use.
“Please.” How stupid it was for me to forget for a second his intention was to rape me. I was focusing on stupid moments, while I had more important things to worry about. “I will never be willing,” I warned him, but he ignored me. He carried me off to what I assumed was his room, and then put me on the floor there and took a step back.
“I figured you would want a shower. Quite frankly, you stink.” Before I could reply, he continued, “In the closet, you will find more suitable clothes for you. Choose what you want and do whatever. I am not into taking unwilling bed partners. Once you are done, meet me in the living room. You need to eat.” With those last words, he left the room and closed the door behind him.
Freedom.
It was temporary freedom. I couldn't find anything in his domain to get myself free from the psycho. I was about to search more, when I heard the voice behind the door.
“There is no escape, Sapphire.” There wasn't anger or warning in his words. He simply stated a fact that ruined all my hope. I sat down on the bed, covered my face with my hands, and wept. I may have hated what happened to me a year ago, may have wanted another life, and sometimes felt like life gave me a shitty hand with all those jobs and the places I had to live. However, right at that moment, I wished so much I had been more grateful for everything I had in life; maybe if I were, the universe wouldn't have put me where I wa
s.
Dominic
“Where is she?” Juanita’s voice was low and worried, and she bit her bottom lip.
She had been with our family for a long time, even before we were born, so she acted more like a grandmother than a housekeeper.
“Gone.”
Juanita shook her head, gave me her back, and started to wash the dishes again. The woman didn't care the Skype connection wasn't the best, and it was easier for me to have her ass sit on the chair. If I said something to her, she would give me the scolding a child deserved.
I may be all grown up, but that woman still made me tremble in fear.
“You know it’s not right.”
“I had no choice.”
I heard the crash of glass, and she spun around and pointed an accusing finger at me.
“You did have a choice; you just preferred to ignore it. He can’t have her.”
“It wasn't like I handed her to him on a silver platter.”
“No, but you did nothing to stop him.”
“It’s impossible to control Damian.”
“She is a sweet girl, and you will ruin her life. Let her go.”
I closed my laptop, thinking about all those police reports that hadn’t started yet, and probably wouldn't anytime soon. No one gave a damn about her, except her good-for-nothing friend, who was in one of my apartments terrified out of her mind with the accusations against her. I picked up my phone and dialed her number. I needed to be sure everything was set in motion. After the second ring, I heard a trembling whisper.
“Hello?”
“Sophie, it’s me.” I hardly needed to introduce myself; she probably knew my voice by heart. She swallowed loudly and took a deep breath as though she needed to calm herself.
“Where is Sapphire?”
“Protected.” I heard a slight gasp and could tell the crying was coming based on the sounds she made. Tears wouldn't help in this situation. In my book, she wasn't that good of a friend to begin with. But then again, I never had friends, so what the fuck did I know about such things?