Faith (A Dark Romance Novel)

by Towers, Terry

  ~*~*~*~

  Tanner

  My grip loosened on the whip as I eyed her beautiful back – my canvas. For the remainder of her life she’d carry my marks, a reminder of our time together. I was getting hard just thinking about it.

  “Just get it over with!” she growled.

  I sure where this sudden bout of brazenness had come from, but it was fucking turning me on. The fight, the challenge, it’s all I’ve ever lived for and she was bringing it in spades, but with her defiant words and body. This was how it was supposed to be, screams and tears for me, not looks of affection and warm embraces. I’d momentarily forgotten. I wouldn’t forget again.

  I cracked the whip against the floor a second time, but this time she didn’t flinch. She stood a little straighter and waited. Fine then, it’s time to play. I swung and it landed on her backside. Her body jerked against the pole, but she didn’t say a word, not even a soft ‘oooph.’ I narrowed my eyes at her, a part of me proud of how well she’d taken it.

  I swung a second time. Again, no response. A third which landed across the marks of the first one, slicing open the skin. She grunted, but still no begging, no sobs.

  My cock was at full mast now – fuck I wanted her, but refused the urge. Instead I swung and sent the whip sailing through the air catching her across the shoulders. And another and another. There were now a half-dozen slices across her back, blood slowly trickling down her back and to her backside.

  She hadn’t said a word, hadn’t given me the satisfaction of her pleas. I was about to strike again, but stopped, lowering the whip and then allowing it to fall to the floor. I could see her body wearing down and she was beginning to slump against the binds. She couldn’t take much more.

  “That all you have, you sick, twisted piece of shit?” she gasped. The fierceness was gone from her tone, but I had to give her credit, she’d held on like a champ.

  I slowly made my way to her, forcing myself to simmer down. My cock was rock solid and it was taking everything I had in me not to fuck her. As I stepped up behind her I lowered my lips to her shoulder. “I wouldn’t goad me right now, darling. Not right now. Not when it’s taking all my strength not to fuck you.”

  She looked over her shoulder and glared at me as she pressed back against my erection. “I dare you.” Our eyes locked and I could see the challenge in her eyes, daring me to take her.

  “Fine.” Pulling down my fleece pants, my erection sprang free. Kicking her feet wide, I grabbed her hips, lined my cock up to her entrance and thrust up into her, groaning loudly as her tight pussy stretched to accommodate me. For the first time since we’d entered the room she cried out. “Is this what you wanted, slave? Your master’s cock?” I growled into her ear, biting at the side of her neck.

  She cried out again, but began to move with me, bucking back against me as I thrust. “Bastard!”

  “My beautiful church girl is now my personal whore.”

  “Go to hell,” she managed to groan out between her series of whimpers and moans.

  My thrusts quickly became frenzied; there was no softness in how I took her, no affectionate touches or attempts to make her feel good. None of what I had given her the previous evening. I fucked her like a man possessed, as if attempting to purge the demons within me, and maybe I was. Not in the literal sense, of course, but perhaps I was attempting to sate the evil beast that lurked within me so I could soften myself for her.

  “There is no hell. Haven’t you figured that out yet?” I groaned, once more nipping at the side of her neck as I continued to hammer into her. I was close, so fucking close. My body had turned into a giant coil, ready to spring loose. My balls tightened and my cock throbbed. One more thrust, two, and then I was there. With one final thrust so forceful that it slammed her into the pole, I unleashed the fury of my cock within her, filling her cunt with my cum as I lowered my forehead to her shoulder.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I muttered under my breath as I slowly slid myself from her. She hadn’t come with me. She’d barely been wet for me. She was right, I was a sick, twisted fuck. That hadn’t really bothered me until now, but now I was facing my demons, seeing them for what they were – for what I was – and I was sickened and disgusted by it. I dropped to my knees behind her, my naked chest coated with a mixture of her blood and my sweat.

  “Can I go back to my room now?” she murmured. Before I had a chance to answer her body went limp and she passed out.

  Chapter 20

  Emily

  Upon waking the first thing I realized was the throbbing along my back in various area, but also a warm, wet, soothing heat. Why was my back hurting? What had happened? Tanner was sitting next to me on the bed, his bed, I didn’t have to open my eyes to know it was him; the faint smell of his cologne had embraced me. “Did you drug me again?”

  “No. You passed out on your own this time.”

  I might have laughed if I hadn’t been hurting so darned bad. “What happened?” Opening my eyes, I attempted to roll over onto my back but a searing pain raced through me and I groaned, flopping back down on my stomach.

  “What was the last thing you remember?”

  “You being an asshole.”

  “Considering I’m always an asshole that’s not really narrowing it down.”

  “Not always.”

  His gaze caught mine for a brief moment and then he looked away, dunking a bloodied cloth into a basin of water. Lowering my gaze to his naked chest, I noticed streaks of already dried blood across the muscle. I watched as he wrung a white cloth out and proceeded to gently pat at my back and then it all came rushing back. Our fight, him carrying me down to that torture room and the whipping. Surprisingly enough, it hadn’t hurt as much as I’d expected, I’d been so consumed with anger and hatred for him that the physical pain had only faintly registered. In fact, it hurt a hell of a lot worse now.

  Picking up the basin, he left and walked into the adjoining bathroom. When he returned he had a bottle of pills and a first aid kit. Opening the bottle, he passed me a couple of pills. I eyed the white tablets with suspicion. They weren’t like any aspirin I’d ever seen. “What are these?”

  “They’ll make you feel better. Just take them.”

  It was either suffer or trust him and take the pills. I popped the pills into my mouth and accepted an open bottle of water, drinking down over half of the bottle before passing it back. “How long have I been out?”

  “Not long. An hour or two.” He took the top off the ointment and squeezed some onto his hand. “I won’t be much longer and we’ll be done.” He sat back down next to me and smoothed the ointment on my open wound, making me jump as it began to sting. “It’ll soothe the cuts. Just give it a minute or two.”

  God, I was tired. So tired. Too tired even to fight with him. Neither of us spoke as he finished apply the ointment and then dressed the wounds. I’m not sure what he’d given me; it was making me groggy, but at the same time any type of filter that I would have applied on my mouth seemed to dissolve.

  “Are you happy now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I turned my head to look at him. “I was really beginning to think I might end up being happy again, even if it was here with you.”

  His jaw clenched and for a brief second I thought I might have seen regret in his gaze, but as quickly as it had appeared it was gone. “You thought wrong.” Without another word he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me alone.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  The days came and went in a blur, neither one of us saying anything other than what was necessary. It actually felt like he was avoiding me, which was fine by me. I wouldn’t have known what to say or how to act towards him anyhow. He’d brought a television and Blueray player into the bedroom but I rarely used it. Whatever he was giving me was keeping me pretty groggy and all I seemed to want to do was sleep.

  On night four it felt like the haze was lifting and I was getting too restless to stay in the room any longer. He wasn’
t chaining me to the bed and to my knowledge wasn’t locking the door. Although it wasn’t like I’d have been able to get up and run miles for help or have the strength to kill him anyhow, so it was a safe bet.

  Stepping up to the full length mirror in the bedroom and turning slightly to the side, I gently pulled part of the bandage away from my lower back. The wounds were healing nicely, leaving scars along my back, Tanner had been diligent and gentle when ensuring my wounds were properly dressed.

  After going to his closet and grabbing a black button-down shirt from inside, I went to the closed door. I turned the knob and it opened. The low sound of a television on greeted me. Leaving the room, I made my way down the hallway to the living room. Entering the living room, I paused, seeing Tanner sitting on the sofa, his back to me, watching…a chick flick? Sweet Home Alabama, to be exact.

  “Why are you up?”

  I frowned. The man had some wicked good hearing!

  “I’ve been sleeping for days now. Was getting restless.”

  “Well, come on over and have a seat. You shouldn’t be walking around too much.”

  He looked over the back of the sofa to stare at me. He’d been drinking; I could see the haziness in his eyes. I hesitated. I’d never seen an almost-drunk Tanner before, I wasn’t sure if it was safe to approach.

  Tanner sighed. “I won’t hurt you, Emily. Come. Sit.”

  With hesitation I walked over to the sofa and tentatively sat on the edge on the opposite end to him. “I thought you didn’t like chick flicks,” I asked, watching him drain the glass of whiskey and then refill it, not bothering to mix it with anything, just pouring it straight.

  “I don’t.”

  Crinkling my nose up at him, I gave him a peculiar look. “Then why are you watching it?”

  “I’m not really watching it.” He gave me a forced smile then went back to staring at the television screen. “How is your back feeling?”

  “Better.” And that was the truth.

  Okay, this is…weird. I knew angry Tanner, lustful Tanner, smug Tanner. This subdued, almost depressing Tanner was…odd.

  “Then why?”

  “Huh?” He looked back at me as if he’d forgotten I was even sitting there.

  “Then why are you watching it? Why have it on?”

  Grabbing the glass of whiskey, he took a drink, swallowing down a third of the contents. He sat staring at the television screen for a minute and then turned to me. “I’ve never been in a relationship, Emily.”

  “Ummm.” Was I supposed to comment on that?

  “Not a single relationship. Never been in love. Never really been loved.” He motioned towards the television screen. “Not like that, anyhow. I sometimes wonder what it’s like, to love. I’ve never really had a craving for that type of affection.”

  “I don’t think that really exists.”

  He turned his attention back to the television and watched for another minute before looking back at me. “Maybe not.” He brow creased, staring at me more intently. “Then why do you want it?”

  “I…” I shrugged. “Because I do.”

  Taking a deep breath in, he slowly released it and nodded. “The slaves. It’s not love. They start off fearing and hating me and it turns into something else; It’s not love, it’s not even admiration. It’s something entirely different. And I hate it. I love the process, but hate what the process turns them into.” His brow creased, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “But I don’t really enjoy it anymore. Doesn’t give me that rush it used to. Nothing seems right anymore. I’m so fucking confused and I don’t like feeling this way. ”

  The question of “Why do it?” was on the tip of my tongue, but we’d had that conversation before and I remember the answer. Because I can.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “You wanted to get to know me, didn’t you? We’re spending the rest of our lives together. Thought you should know.”

  Weirder and weirder.

  “I’ve told you numerous times I’m not a good guy. You shouldn’t have fallen for me. I don’t understand why you did. My life revolves around pain and self-gratification. I’m not someone any woman should fall for, especially someone like you.”

  Okay, my mouth dropped open at that comment. I didn’t. I mean, I was growing to like him, but falling for him was really reaching. “Tanner, I… I’m…”

  He cocked a brow up at me, a smirk beginning to form on his lips. “I thought we promised never to lie to each other.”

  Oh God. I raked a hand into my hair and looked around nervously, anywhere but at him. Only a sick, twisted person would have begun to care for him. He’d abducted me, forced himself onto me, sold a woman, threatened my family, bound me and let strange men stare at my naked body. Heck, he’d even shot a man! What kind of insane person could love someone like that? Was I that far gone? Was I so hard up for affection that that was what I’d accept? Or worse yet, was this just another twisted game of his; have me admit I’d had feelings to slap me in the face with them? I looked at the coffee table and the nearly empty bottle of whiskey. No, it wasn’t a game. He was seriously messed up and I just happened to be the person he had to talk to about it.

  “Even if, after all the horrible things you’ve done, by some miracle I’d grown some sort of affection for you, well, you ruined that.”

  “Yeah. I shouldn’t have whipped you while angry.”

  “Excuse me?” As sick as it sounded, the whipping wasn’t what was really bothering me. Physically, I hurt. But that wasn’t anything compared to the shot he’d taken to my pride and… Dammit. Maybe he was right.

  “I don’t do things while emotional. I let you get to me and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m better than that.”

  I wanted to hit him, cuff him upside the head or something. Slowly I gave my head a shake in disbelief. “You really don’t get it, do you? You claim to be so smart, but you just don’t get it.”

  With a sigh, Tanner sank back into the sofa and downed the remainder of whiskey in the glass. Placing the glass back on the coffee table, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. So I waited, my attention shifting to the television.

  “My mother used to believe that I could be fixed.”

  Huh? I looked back over at Tanner to see him staring at me.

  “Some scientists believe that while it’s harder to do in people who are hardwired like me, that it’s still possible to feel the emotions all normal people feel. That we can turn the empathy switch on and off like a light switch. It’s a relatively new and disputed theory. My mother was of that school of thought; I assume that’s why I’d been her guinea pig.”

  That piqued my interest. Was it possible I hadn’t imagined what we’d shared, that perhaps for the one night he’d let me in? “So, can you?”

  His face contorted into a look of disgust. “And make myself weak? Why would I want to?”

  I motioned to the television. “So you can have that. Have something meaningful.”

  “For someone that lives my life, weakness will get you killed, love.”

  Catching his gaze, I couldn’t help but reach over to him and take his hand. The gesture of affection might release the beast inside him, but I was willing to take the chance. “But you’re not living that life anymore. You just said yourself, now that you have me, there’s no need not to feel.”

  He didn’t answer, simply stared at me with a peculiar look on his face that I couldn’t quite place, but I could see him thinking, working through my words in his drunken state. Maybe in the morning he’d be able to work through it more clearly, but then again maybe in the morning he wouldn’t remember a word said between us. A little smile formed on my lips. But I would. I wouldn’t push it. I’d let him mull it over. Turning my attention to the television, I pretended to watch the movie, not missing the fact that he kept his hand in mine, our fingers laced.

  Chapter 21

  Tanner

  Take God Into Your Life and Let H
im Guide You

  I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the sign outside Emily’s father’s church. Let God into my life? What a fucking crock of shit. At least Emily wasn’t harping on the church bullshit to me anymore; that in itself was a miracle. Praise the Lord, hallelujah!

  The church before me was a large stone building. I honestly hadn’t expected it to be massive. I guess I’d been expecting a small little church that would hold maybe a few hundred. The way Emily spoke it seemed like her father was opposed to things on a grand, elaborate scale. Maybe that just applied to his wife and children. I huffed. Hypocrite.

  Curiosity getting the best of me, I proceeded up the stone front steps and quietly slipped in. The main doors led into a foyer with a sign guiding me to the back of the building. The hallway was lined with stained glass windows, sending a kaleidoscope of colours spilling onto the floor. I’ll admit, it was awe-inspiring. The door to the chapel was ajar and, as assumed, the chapel was also massive. It could fit nearly one thousand people and virtually all of the pews were filled.

  As I silently entered and lingered towards the back for a moment, I eyed the man on stage, a microphone in his hand, preaching to his parishioners. The parishioners all sat silent, eyes fixated onto him, except for the pastor’s cues for them to say “amen.” Emily’s father was a large man, nearly as tall and broad as me, but not quite. He had the same dark hair and eyes as Emily, eyes which seemed to see everything and everyone in the church.

  I glanced around the church for a seat and noticed a pew in the back row with a lone female sitting on it, playing with her mobile phone. My eyes narrowed as I realized who it was; Emily’s little sister. This was too perfect to be true., PRAISE JESUS, must be a miracle. I attempted to keep a grim expression on my face as I silently made my way down the pew and took a seat roughly a foot away from her.