Until You're Mine: Requested Trilogy - Part Two

by Sabre Rose

  Mum laughs, tears all gone, and stands, holding her hands out to help me to my feet. “We’re a strange lot,” she says.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, we keep on trying to hold onto this blame and guilt for what happened. I’ve tried to stop you from doing it and yet, right here and now, I feel guilt for not keeping you safe. It’s stupid. The only villains in this story are the men who took you.” She pats my shoulder as she walks back over to the tray of croissants. “They are the ones who should be carrying all of the guilt. Not us.” She turns to look at me. “Hungry?”

  I shake my head but Mum ignores me, slicing open one of the croissants and reaching into the fridge to stuff it with ham and cheese.

  “Have you heard anything more from the police?”

  I shake my head again. “I would have told you if I had.”

  “It seems strange that they can’t find anything. You’ve given them a description of the building and even identified one of the men. You’d think that would mean something.”

  “Marcel told me…” Mum looks up sharply. It must be strange for her to hear their names so easily fall from my lips. “He told me that my requestor was from a wealthy family. It wouldn’t surprise me if they had people within the force keeping an eye on things. People like that tend to stick together.”

  A plate with the croissant sitting neatly in the middle gets placed on the table. “So have you made up your mind?”

  I look over at my mother, so strong, so brave and fearless and nod my head with more resolve than I feel. “I’m going.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  MIA

  When Roxy knocks on the front door, I am still in my bedroom, trying to figure out what to wear. It’s never been an issue before. I wore whatever I felt like from the choice of the few dresses in my wardrobe or the selection of jeans and tops. But now, everything feels like it would be a statement.

  Wearing the red dress isn’t an option. Anything red I own is destined for the charity shop. I don’t want that color anywhere near me. Every outfit I pull out has something wrong with it. The neckline is too revealing. The pants are too tight. The color draws too much attention.

  Not only am I worried that he might be out there somewhere, watching me, I am worried who will see me. I have seen the looks from people on the odd times I have been outside the house. There are looks of pity, looks of shock, but mainly there are looks of suspicion.

  If what she claims is true, why is she not hiding in her house with all the doors locked and keeping herself safe?

  Why is she dressing like that and inviting attention?

  Why is she smiling?

  Shouldn’t she still be cowering in fear under the blankets of her bed?

  In the end, I blindly shove my hands into the pile of discarded clothing and pull a shirt over my head. I don’t even look in the mirror as I tug on my jeans, and instead, leave the room without a backward glance.

  Roxy, Remy, and Sebastian stand awkwardly in the kitchen with my mother and father. Dad stands between the two men, arms crossed and not hiding the fact that he doesn’t like either of them. Remy’s eyes are cast toward the ground, but when I walk in, he lifts them hesitantly and nods in my direction.

  Sebastian strides forward confidently, extending his hand. “Sorry to hear about your situation,” he says stiffly and attempts a smile, emphasizing his perfectly white teeth.

  When Roxy first introduced us, I thought he was handsome. Devastatingly handsome. Now, I’m not so fooled by a pretty face. Marcel had a pretty face.

  I allow him to shake my hand and then laugh nervously, as though my situation is something to find amusing. Roxy rolls her eyes and loops her arm through her boyfriend’s as Remy steps forward to stand uncomfortably by my side. Dad narrows his eyes and Remy takes a step back.

  “Have you got your phone?” Dad asks me, pulling me away from the waiting group.

  “Yes, Dad.” I smile to reassure him. “And it’s fully charged.”

  “And what about that spray? Have you got it in your bag?”

  I nod.

  “And you’ll stay with Roxy and the boys all night? You won’t get separated, you won’t even go to the bathroom by yourself?”

  I hold my hand up with mock severity. “I solemnly swear not to use the bathroom by myself.”

  “And you’ll call me if you need anything.”

  I pull him into a hug and whisper in his ear. “I’ll be fine, Dad. It will be good for me to be out and about. Good for me to feel normal again.”

  I let go and head toward the door with more confidence than I feel.

  “It’s too soon,” I hear my father mutter to my mother.

  My mother replies with a smile stretched over her face that belies the worry lines between her eyes. “It’s her decision.” She nods firmly at my father before turning a beaming smile back at me. “Have a wonderful night.”

  “What time will you be home?” Dad asks, only to be slapped by my mother playfully. “Make sure you’re safe!” he yells as the door shuts.

  “Don’t say that! You’re implying that her safety…” her voice fades as we walk to the car.

  Remy opens the back door for me, smiling hesitantly and I climb inside and take a deep breath to calm my nerves.

  “I’ll look after you,” he says as he sits beside me.

  I shift just a fraction away from him, needing the distance between us to still my beating heart. A fine sheen of sweat covers my body and I tug on my shirt repeatedly, allowing the material to create a fan to blow cool air onto my face.

  Remy’s hand creeps across the seat to rest on my knee and I jerk away, startled by the touch even though I watched it happen.

  “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean anything by it.” He seems slightly annoyed and shuffles closer to the door on his side, turning to look out the window.

  “It’s not you,” I reply. “I’m just—” I don’t finish. He’s not looking at me anyway.

  The windows of the bar are crowded with people as we pull into the carpark. I start chewing on my lip nervously, and my legs shake of their own accord. With a deep breath, I open the door and climb out with a smile stretched over my face. Roxy loops her arm through mine and tugs me toward the entrance.

  “You’ve got this,” she says as the music grows louder, but my quivering insides disagree. “We’re going to have a great night.”

  The music is loud, and the dim light makes it hard to see. The bar is busier than I’ve ever seen it before, and there are many strange faces who stare back at me. I tell myself that I’m imagining the suspicious looks and the raised eyebrows. I tell myself that every time a person leans in close to speak to the person next to them, they are not talking about me.

  Remy shouts in my ear, and instinctively, I jerk away. He rolls his eyes, motioning drinking with his hand. “What do you want?” he yells over the music.

  I shake my head, then change my mind and yell back to him. “Water.”

  He gives me the thumbs up before weaving his way through the crowd.

  “Where did all these people come from?” I shout across to Roxy. She’s standing beside Sebastian, her arms looped around his waist as he looks with disdain across the room. He’s a city boy through and through.

  “Your disappearance sort of helped the profile of this place,” she shouts back.

  “Really?”

  I would have thought the disappearance of someone would discourage people from coming here, not increase the patronage so much that it’s even difficult to find the space to breathe.

  She nods. “Some reporter did a story and boom!” She motions an explosion with her hands. “Suddenly this dive is the place to be! I think I even…” her voice gets muffled by the band coming onto the small stage and strumming the strings of an electric guitar into the microphone.

  “What?” I step closer in order to hear Roxy.

  “I think I even caught a reporter at your house trying to look through the windows!
”

  A shudder runs through me at the mere thought of being watched.

  Remy comes back through the crowd, holding four glasses above his head. He hands me one and I take a sip, shuddering again when the taste of vodka and lemonade slides down my throat.

  “I asked for water.”

  “What?” He taps his ear, indicating for me to lean closer.

  “I asked for water.” I swallow the knot of panic that’s begun to pulse in the pit of my stomach.

  “I didn’t think you actually meant it.” His words are hot against my ear, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

  “Why would I say it if it wasn’t what I meant?”

  “What?” he yells back.

  “Why would I—” There’s nothing but confusion on his face so I drop it and cautiously sip.

  I stick close to Roxy as she consumes drink after drink, eventually leading me onto the dance floor. The glass of vodka has turned warm in my hand. The boys stay in the corner we had occupied, watching us from afar. Remy glances over cautiously, while Sebastian glares at us as though we are doing something wrong.

  “You good?” Roxy yells.

  I smile or grimace and sort of shrug as a response. There’s no point telling her that every time a stranger bumps into me, my heart starts to race. Or that every time I catch the eye of a man watching me across the crowd, a nauseated feeling creeps into my gut. Even the way Roxy’s boyfriend is glaring at us makes me uneasy. I wish the guy would smile or something. He has one hell of a resting bitch face.

  The band quietens as the song draws to a close, and the lead singer spits into the microphone as he talks.

  “We’re just going to take a quick break,” he announces. Then he catches my eye and gives a wave of recognition. “But I’ve just spotted someone in the crowd who has graced this stage a few times before, so maybe, if we cheer loud enough she will agree to sing again. What do you say?”

  The crowd erupts into thunderous applause, not because they know who I am, but because the man behind the microphone tells them to. He stands there, throwing his own cheers into the microphone as I’m gripped by fear.

  I start shaking my head. My heart races and my legs tremble as the people around me start pushing me toward the stage. I reach back, straining to grab onto any part of Roxy that I can, but she just smiles and mouths that everything will be fine. Of course, she doesn’t know what I know. She doesn’t know he called me his songbird.

  The crowd carries, pushes and shoves me to the stage and I stare out at the darkness, blinded by the spotlight that shines onto the small raised platform they call a stage.

  I wonder if they can see my fear, if they can taste it or smell it like I can. I wonder if they care.

  “You right, love?” the band’s lead singer asks me. I know his name. I’ve heard it many times before, but it escapes me as I stand frozen. “You want a backing track or something?”

  I’m not sure if I respond. All I know is that he leaves and I’m alone on the stage, too scared, too petrified to move. I try to scan the crowd, looking for those eyes that glared back at me weeks before, but I’m greeted with nothing but the blaring light. Finally, when they focus a little, I make out Roxy shoving her way through the crowd, the realization of my fear finally dawning on her. She pushes and shoves, but no one notices as they gather closer to the stage, some sort of chant on their lips.

  Then someone yells for them to be quiet and the room shifts. The yelled chants turn to hushed whispers. The bustle and jostle of the crowd still. All eyes turn to me.

  Someone clears their throat.

  Another person lets out a whoop of encouragement.

  My name is yelled into the silence.

  Closing my eyes, I try to block them all out. For the briefest of moments, I long to be back within the walls of the cell, for the known safety of Ryker instead of the unknown dangers of this small town.

  My voice is small and trembling as I start to sing. I keep my eyes closed, thinking of Ryker as the words to ‘Iris’ by the Goo Goo Dolls spill from my mouth.

  The world vanishes, and I’m taken back to lying in Ryker’s arms, the feel of his lips as he pressed a kiss to my head. Tears rip my throat and my words with the knowledge that I will never feel like that again. I will never have his arms around me. I will never be surprised by the softness of his lips.

  And then I break, the melody turning to sobs as I jump down from the stage and push myself through the crowd, yelling and screaming at those who refuse to move out of my way. The walls are closing in. The lights are too bright and somehow too loud as though their buzzing is louder than the murmurs of the crowd. I bump into someone and terror holds me in its grasp as I look up into eyes that I’m certain belong to my requestor.

  “No,” I gasp as hands reach for my shoulders and hold me in place.

  “Who were you singing to?” the voice asks.

  I keep shaking my head, my eyes closed as though there’s a blindfold covering them, wrenching against the grip on my shoulders.

  “Mia!” someone shouts. “Mia are you okay?” The hands disappear. “She won’t talk to me,” the voice continues.

  “I’ve got her.” And then Roxy’s arms are around me and I lean into her, sobbing with relief. “It was just Sebastian,” she says. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” She turns to talk to someone else. “You shouldn’t have grabbed her like that! We need to get outside. She needs to breathe.”

  As soon as she says the words, I become aware of myself and the panicked sobs of breath I keep taking. I’m aware of them, but I can’t stop them. I can’t control the waves of confusion or the knife of fear that’s stabbed into my heart. Remy and Sebastian lead the charge as Roxy takes me outside, all the time keeping me wrapped securely in her arms.

  It’s not until I’m standing and staring at the stars that my breath calms and my body stops trembling.

  “This was a stupid idea. I’m so sorry, Mia. I didn’t know—I didn’t think…” She smooths my hair, stroking her hand over my head just like my mother would do. “I’m so sorry,” she says.

  “Did you see him?” Remy asks, and for the first time, I see true concern on his face and begin to feel foolish for the panic that overwhelmed me.

  “No. It was nothing. I just—”

  “Shh,” Roxy says. “It’s okay. It was my fault. I pushed too hard too quickly. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  Taking a deep breath, I sink to the gravel, not caring when the small stones dig into my flesh. “Everyone saw.” The words get caught in my throat. “Everyone will talk—”

  “Let them.” Roxy holds her hands out, urging me to get back to my feet. “Who cares about them? If they have anything to say they can say it to me. It was my fault. I should have never even suggested this.”

  A small laugh escapes and it feels so much better than the fear and panic. “I’m the one who said yes. You didn’t force me, Roxy.” I allow her to pull me back to my feet as I wipe the dust off my backside. “I think I should just go home. You guys stay here. Enjoy yourselves. I’ll call a taxi.”

  “No,” Sebastian objects. “I will take you.”

  They almost carry me to the car. I slink inside and rest my head against the coolness of the window, my eyes lifting involuntarily to the stars scattered across the sky and wonder if my life would ever be the same again.

  requestor

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  REQUESTOR

  She’s singing to me, taunting me, begging me to come and make her my own. The lyrics call out to me, telling me of her yearning, her desire to be mine. But despite her call, despite my desire to rip her from the stage and to finally claim her, I stay where I am, ignoring the buffoons that surround me and concentrating on nothing but her.

  She’s dressed simply for the occasion. A black top that catches the light and turns it to glitter. Jeans so tight they hug the shape of her, forcing me to imagine what it would feel like to peel them from her skin.

  Her voice has cha
nged from the last time I heard her sing. There’s a pain and honesty that wasn’t there before. And it’s because of me. She should be on her knees, thanking me for this gift I have granted her. The gift of her voice. The gift of her freedom.

  But it won’t be long now.

  I have made my plans.

  I’ve been a patient man; weeks have passed since she slipped from my grasp, but soon, she will be mine. It will make all the pain and frustration, all the anger and rage worth it.

  Just the thought of it alone starts my blood tingling. I take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing my eyes and losing myself to the sound of her voice. I imagine myself fighting my way to her, the crowd attempting to protect her from my advances. I throw punch after punch, people falling like flies around me until I reach her and pluck her from the stage. She comes to me willingly, knowing who I am, longing to be in my arms. Even the blond-haired twins that guard her can’t stop me. Like fucking Prince Charming, I carry her from the bar and out to the car. No one attempts to stop me. They all fear me, cowering in the shadows like the useless fools they are. The arms of my songbird would wrap around my neck. Anyone else’s touch and I would recoil, but not her. Not my songbird.

  We would go home, and she would beg for me to take her, plunge into her until she screamed in ecstasy and pain. But I would deny her, choosing instead to bind her and explore her body, whispered pleas falling from her lips as my touch became perverted with pain.

  I shift uncomfortably as I think about it, needing to adjust my stance to stop my arousal from becoming noticed. But I can’t stop my thoughts, they have gone too far. I allow myself this indulgence, even though it risks my strength to resist taking her. I have been strong for so long. It would be a shame to ruin it all now.

  So I take a deep breath and push the thoughts from my mind, sating the hum of my blood with the promise that soon she will be mine. The wait will be worth it. My patience will be rewarded.

  Warm fingers thread through mine and squeeze tightly. The touch agitates me, starting the compression of anxiety in my chest. I want to squeeze back, hard, so hard I crush the fingers between mine. So hard that she begs for mercy, the pain twisting her movements and causing her to fall to her knees before me. I would step over her like the trash she is and run to my songbird.