“No. You can shove that in my mouth, but if I don’t chew it will just choke me and I’ll die anyway. Unless you save me from that too.” She glared at him and he let go of her hair and ate the piece himself.
“It’s not drugged. See?”
“But the water was.” She stated it, and he looked up at the ceiling, taking a breath.
“Yes. I drugged the water. I just wanted you to see what it could be like if you’d just – try. I forgot about how hard it is to come down off that shit.” He shook his head, laughing bitterly to himself as he broke off another piece of granola bar and offered it to her first. When she didn’t even open her mouth he ate it. “Do you even remember how amazing it was? With you not fighting me? We could have that all the time.”
“You mean you could keep me high as a fucking kite all of the time so I can’t even think straight? High enough to actually think submitting to you, fucking you, is a good idea? Go fuck yourself, Master. The first chance I get to kill myself, I’m taking it.” She turned her head away again. When he bent her back by her hair she couldn’t hide the wince. Every inch of her still ached.
“You will not kill yourself.” He growled out the words and she didn’t respond. “SAY IT. Say it, Thalia.”
“No.” She spoke softly and he let go of her hair. Reaching into his pants he pulled out a combat knife. A dark blade folded into its handle. When he opened it up it was almost six inches long. A sliver of fear ran through her because, no matter what, even a suicidal human brain is still hard-wired to react to knives. He reached behind her and she felt him tugging at her arms and then they were unbound. The duct tape tearing at her skin as he removed it. Her feet were next, and she pushed away from him and hugged her legs to her chest.
“You know what? It doesn’t matter, there’s nothing left in this room to kill yourself with.” Marcus stood up, tucking the blade away and grabbing the granola bar.
“Do you really think if you keep this up long enough, that if you drug me enough times, make me come enough times, that I’ll suddenly love you? Do you really think that I would ever give up on loving James? That I would ever want you over him?” She asked it with an empty voice, but his jaw tightened and she watched him tense when she said the name out loud. So she said it again. “James loves me. And he doesn’t just say it, he shows me. Every day. You’re nothing like him.”
“Stop it.”
“I love James, Marcus.” She kept going.
“Shut up, Thalia.” He towered over her, his rage making him shake, but fear was something people who had hope felt.
“I love James for the way he cares about me. I love James for the way he fucks me. And I love James most of all because he got me away from you.” She finished and he hit her. Pain exploded in her cheek as she realized he hadn’t slapped her, his fist had been closed. Her head rang when she hit the floor and he straddled her, grabbing her face in a painful grip to make her look at him.
“Listen, you stupid slut. You want to play hard ball? You want to throw his name in my face? The man you whored yourself out to so you could go play house overseas with all his money?” She tried to twist out of his grip but he just angled her chin up and dug his fingers into her jaw. “I don’t give a fuck what you think you have with him. But you are going to submit to me, and if you don’t want to enjoy the process, fine. I’ll break you. And I’ll keep sharp objects out of your reach while I do it.” He climbed off her and she tried to sit up, but he hit her again. She caught herself on the floor and the tears came back. She was crying when the door slammed and the lights went out. Then there was nothing but the thin mattress, the pain in her cheek, the tinge of copper in the air, and his promise to break her.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
Sleep came and went. Memories rose and fell in her head, taunting her and tormenting her.
She tried to pick at the duct tape wrapped around the gauze, but in the darkness she couldn’t find the edge no matter how many times she traced her fingers up and down. Her teeth wouldn’t cut the tape, and she eventually gave up.
Hunger gnawed at her as time stretched. She didn’t know the last time she’d eaten. Had it been a sandwich? Another protein bar? For a moment she thought about calling out, offering to eat the granola bar, but maybe he’d let her starve.
Not how she’d want to go, but better than him breaking her. Better than more of that drug that filled her with poisonous light, and emptied her out leaving only the poison behind.
The blackness was absolute. Not a hint of light from the doorframe. He’d always left half the lights in the room on for her. Industrial tubes set in the ceiling behind metal grates. She traced the door and tried the handle again. It turned, but nothing happened. The door didn’t budge an inch.
Her ears strained for sound, her hands aching from the chill in the air until she tucked them between her thighs to warm them.
Had he left her? Was this his plan to break her? Solitary confinement?
Thalia crawled blindly across the floor until she felt the blanket and used it to get back on the mattress, slightly warmer than the concrete. She touched her cheek gently and winced. Bruised, swollen.
There were so many things she wanted to tell the people in her life. She wanted to tell James she was sorry, for ever getting him involved in her mess, for falling in love with him, for being such a fucking mess for over a third of the time they’d had together. It would have been better if she had never left Marcus in the first place. James would have been upset, but he wouldn’t have lost his sister and his girlfriend. She wanted to tell Kalen and Maggie thank you for accepting her like a member of their circle, even in all her damage. To thank Ailsa for helping her put herself back together. For always answering her phone when Thalia needed to talk. She wanted to thank Julie and Analiese and Lauren and Chloe for being the best, and the weirdest, but still the best friends she’d ever had. She wanted to apologize to Becca and the others for bringing them on at the studio only to disappear.
For a second she even wanted to call her dad.
They’d rarely spoken since she’d been with James. He knew she was alive and living in London – but only because she’d called him. Marcus had been right that no one would have worried about her. Her dad hadn’t even noticed the gap in time since her last call. But she still wanted to call him, to forgive him for falling off the deep end when her mother died. The cancer had eaten them both alive, only he hadn’t died. He’d been a shell, but at least he’d kept food in the house, taught her to drive, let her see friends, let her try to go to college.
She realized she was crying and wiped her eyes, wondering where the water was even coming from at this point. She had to be dehydrated. No food. No water. No light.
Rolling to her stomach she grabbed the covers and curled up around them, building a nest on the mattress to try and stay warm. It seemed to take forever for the tightness in her muscles to relax, and then sleep took her again.
Her dreams were nothing more than shifting shadows in a huge gray room. No faces to look at or plead with, her voice gone. When she reached out for them her hand passed through them like smoke. She ended up curled into a ball trying to cover her ears against the sound of a wind that seemed to only touch her. Chilling her to the bone, ripping her hair into knots, and leaving the faceless shadows free to wander past her like she didn’t exist. Like she was already forgotten.
Chapter Sixteen
“Please tell me -”
“We found him on a camera at a gas station in Pennsylvania. He’s driving a truck with an enclosed bed. He bought a lot of supplies, spent almost twenty minutes in the store. A lot of food, a ton of water. He has to be close. Why else would he get it here?” Jake sounded confident and the sound of other men talking in the background made James sit up straight.
“Does the man know anything? Know where he might be?” He heard hope in his voice and tried not to let it grow. Seven days. Anything could have happened in seven days.
“He doesn’
t even remember him, but it’s him for sure. He looked right at a hidden camera. We’re scouring the area for secluded places – unfortunately, we’re in farm country. There’s a lot of space, but not a ton of buildings. I have one of my guys looking for abandoned properties or those recently for sale or purchased.” Jake answered someone’s question and came back to the phone, “We’ve got a chopper in the air looking for the truck as well. We will find them. I can feel it, we’re close.”
“Good.” James nodded, leaning his head in his hand as he forced himself to breathe. To try and focus on the cup of tea in front of him.
“Have you - has he sent any more emails?” Jake’s voice was quiet, like he didn’t want his men to hear him asking, but the question cut into James.
“No. Nothing in three days.” James took a drink of the tea and wished it was whisky. He’d have to call and update Kalen, but he couldn’t handle anyone else. Text messages were coming across his phone from Thalia’s friends, from Ailsa, from Becca, all wanting to know what was going on. Where was she? Why hadn’t she come back from the states yet?
The only ones that knew anything were Kalen and Maggie because they didn’t keep secrets from each other. Ailsa probably knew by now as well, but he couldn’t talk to anyone else, not when he didn’t have answers. At least not answers he could say out loud. He only talked to the assistant he’d hired for Thalia to make sure Nirvana would be functioning if she got back. When she got back.
“Don’t jump to conclusions, okay? We’re going to find them. We are.” Jake made himself sound more confident than James figured he actually was, but he appreciated it.
“Alright. Ring me when you do.” James sighed and they said their goodbyes and hung up.
Thalia shouted a cry into the cloth he’d shoved in her mouth, as he thrust inside her again. Without a bed frame he’d made do with taping her wrists behind her back again after he’d renewed her bandage, and by locking a spreader bar between her ankles. Bent forward on the mattress, she couldn’t brace herself against each hard thrust, she just kept the side of her face that hurt the least on the sheet.
His hand came down on her ass and she winced. He’d spanked her the day before, counting out all of the rules she’d supposedly broken since he’d had her again. Over and over until she had begged him to stop. He had, but then he’d used the belt on her until she could recite the rules to him one after the other.
Crawl. Kneel. Eyes down. Call him Master. Thank him for punishments. Permission to come. I am his. I am his. I am his.
As if saying it out loud enough times would make her believe it. Punctuating each sentence with the vicious swipe of a belt lash. His version of re-education.
She was black and blue when he’d given up on any hope of her sounding sincere.
Now he was testing her, and she had already come twice without permission, because she had refused to ask. The third was rising up and she tensed, not wanting to have to ask, but knowing if she failed a third time he’d keep going. She wanted him off of her. Pleasure wound her spine tight, the orgasm threatening to hit fast and she begged through the cloth, a muffled version of ‘Please let me come’. He thrust hard and deep and she moaned against her teeth, clenching her fists to push away from the slippery slope of her climax.
“Have something to say, slut?” Marcus leaned over her and ripped the cloth out of her mouth, and she dragged in air.
“Please. May I come. Master.” She clipped the words out through gritted teeth, and he slowly thrust inside her, rotating his hips against her ass as he teased her.
“Beg me.” A slow withdrawal, a sharp thrust that almost tumbled her over the edge. She bit down on her lip to distract herself, hard enough to resplit it and taste the copper tang of blood. He thrust hard again and she groaned and forced the words out.
“Please, Master. Please, may I come? Please?”
His hand slid over her hip to touch her clit and she screamed into the mattress. That was cheating. The tight circles over that bundle of nerves had her gasping and moaning, intense sensations knocking her defenses down. “Again.” He ordered, his lips against her back.
“PLEASE!” Her voice whined as he pushed her higher, “Please, may I come? Master, may I come?” She dissolved into panting moans, pressing her forehead down into the mattress as he circled his hips behind her, tormenting her, dragging it out. Was he seriously not going to give her permission? Could he hold out for a fourth round of this twisted game?
“Fine. Come, slut.” He pulled back and slammed hard, driving her forward with each powerful thrust and she let go and just let the pleasure wash over her. He filled her, and his fingers worked in tight circles over her clit as her breaths came shorter and shorter. Then all that incredible tension released and sparks crackled behind her eyes, and as she tightened on him he thrust deep and came inside her. When he pulled out of her he jerked her up by her hair until she balanced on her knees, stepping in front of her. “What do you say?”
“Thank you, Master.” The words were empty, and he knew it. He could see it in her, but he still fisted her hair and pulled her mouth towards his cock.
“Clean me off. And remember, if you bite me, you’re still bound with a spreader bar between your legs. You’re not going anywhere.” He was staring down at her, and she opened her mouth for him to push his cock between her lips. She tasted the mix of the two of them and fought the urge to bite down. To hurt him just a little bit like he hurt her. But she couldn’t cut herself out of the duct tape, not with it wound almost to her elbows, even if she could find his knife on him and get it from him. She sucked him harder, wanting him to be done with her, to leave. Marcus hissed between his teeth and pulled from her mouth, she’d forgotten for a moment how sensitive he would be after he’d come. The ringing slap reminded her well enough and she sat back on her heels, clenching her eyes closed against the pounding ache in her cheek. “Are you misbehaving on purpose?” He asked her as he tucked himself away.
“No, Master.” She shook her head.
“Are you sure? You don’t want another punishment? We could start making the front of you match the back.” His voice was bitter, but she didn’t care. The click of his knife opening made her tense, but she felt the relaxing tension in her arms as he cut the tape away and ripped it off her skin in stinging strips.
“No. Master. I do not want a punishment.” She tried her best to keep the boiling hatred out of her voice. She wasn’t very successful. He laughed low as he crouched behind her to unlock the spreader bar, the moment it was removed she eased her legs back together, ignoring the way her hips protested.
“Do you want me to give you a break?” He shoved her shoulder so she turned to face him. When her eyes stayed on the floor, like she was supposed to, he grabbed her chin to make her look at him. “Do you need a break, Thalia? Am I being too rough?” His grip tightened on her face until she winced, the mocking tone in his voice made her want to spit at him, bite his hand, kick him away from her.
“I’m just fine, Master.” She growled the words out and he moved his hand to her throat, squeezing lightly.
“Aren’t you a strong little whore. Have you decided to live long enough for me to break you?” Marcus leaned close to her.
“Since you won’t let me die, I’ll have to settle for not letting you break me.” She tried to pull back from his grip on her throat, to get some space between them, but he shoved her back onto the mattress, straddling her waist before getting in her face again.
“Oh, Thalia. I haven’t even started trying to break you. This has all been to re-train you.” He pressed a kiss to her mouth, her lip stinging where she’d split it again. He smiled down at her when he leaned back, “Do you want me to start breaking you?”
“You. Won’t. Break. Me.” She lifted her head towards him, not taking her gaze from his cold blue eyes. He hated her defiance, she saw the anger in his eyes simmering underneath the shadow of control.
“Sure about that, Thalia?” He traced his thumb a
cross her jawline and down her neck. She was about to shout how sure she was when his eyes came back to hers, “When I kill Katherine, all because you’re having such a fun time defying me, ruining all of my hard work, my plans for us... you don’t think that will break you? Even just a little bit?” Her heart stopped, skittered, her pulse all off kilter as her world went sideways.
“You already killed Katherine.” Thalia believed it. He’d barely mentioned Katherine in so long, she hadn’t heard her at all. Katherine was dead. Katherine was already dead. But Marcus tilted his head, his fingers running over her neck.
“Do you really believe I would have killed Katherine and not told you about it? What’s the use in that?”
“Don’t fucking touch her.” Thalia tried to sit up but he pushed her back to the mattress with ease, his hand tightening on her throat.
“Look at you, disobedient again already.” He squeezed until she couldn’t breathe enough to do more than whimper, and kept talking, “As I was saying, I only kept her here because I thought you’d behave if you knew I’d hurt her. But you aren’t behaving, and if I kill Katherine then the next girl I take you’ll be more careful with her life – won’t you?”
Salvaged by Love (Thalia Book 3) (The Thalia Series) Page 22