“What’s the catch to this?” I turned and asked him. He looked at me but he didn’t answer. Ever since the birth control topic had come up, he’d been more withdrawn than usual.
I had to remind myself that he was just a man.
He was strong, cold, and painfully ruthless, but he was still just a man, and he had feelings. I had no idea what kind of things went on his head. I hated that I could unintentionally hurt him.
“No catch. You just have to deal with whatever you find on the other side,” he explained.
“Why can’t you just tell me?” I muttered, more to myself than to him.
“It’s better this way.”
With a jerky nod, I began to move again.
1…2…3…4…
“This one.” I gestured to the fourth door on my right.
“Are you sure?” Mason asked, studying me in the way he always did.
I nodded, trying to ignore the sweat building up on my palms.
“Go ahead. It’s open.” The grin on his face and the gleam in his eye had me regretting my decision.
Exhaling a shaky breath, I opened the door and slowly walked inside. As soon as my eyes landed on the girl in the middle of the room, I immediately wanted to backtrack.
What was she doing here?
“Mason.” I looked at him, alarmed, confusion clear in my tone. “Why is she here?”
“Because she hurt you,” he answered slowly, like that should have been my first conclusion.
I glanced back at the pretty redhead restrained to one of the altered dental chairs. She had hurt me, but it was with words, not physical violence. Macy used to come into the diner where I worked and make countless comments about me, laughing loudly for added measure.
I wasn’t really sure why she didn’t like me.
Janice, my old boss, said it was because some people were just assholes—judgmental, stuck-up assholes who thought the world owed them something.
“How did you get her here?” I kept my attention on Macy, who had now turned her head to stare at me. Oddly, I didn’t exactly feel guilt, seeing her like this.
“I pretended I was going to fuck her,” he openly admitted.
“Did you touch her?” The question was out of my mouth before I could stop it, and it sounded angrier than I’d intended. Mason’s face split with a Cheshire cat-like grin.
“If I did?” he taunted.
I swallowed and bit my tongue.
My amoral kidnapper had taken another girl, who I knew wasn’t going to have a graceful death, and all I could worry about was whether he’d touched her in an intimate way.
No, Katie, you’re not screwed up at all. This is perfectly normal for a twenty-three year old girl. Everyone in love wants to commit murder out of jealousy.
“Jesus, Katie. Would you like me to tattoo your name across my cock? Would that prove that I don’t want anyone else?” He grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me around to face him.
“What are you going to do with her?”
He shook his head at me, acknowledging my swift subject change.
“I’m not going to do anything. I told you to handle it, and that’s how it’s going to go.”
Shooting a glance over my shoulder, he dropped his hands and stepped back into the hallway.
“You have one hour.”
What?
I opened my mouth to object, but the door was already slamming in my face.
How long had it been? Twenty minutes? Ten? What happened if Mason came back and Macy was still alive?
He could hurt Annie…
And why would that be a bad thing?
I groaned in frustration and leaned my head back against a lower cabinet.
I’d moved across the room so that Macy was directly in front of me. I didn’t feel any way in particular about my predicament.
I was waiting to feel the anguish from what I assumed needed to be done, but I just felt…blank. Pushing off the floor, I approached the chair and studied Macy’s face.
Clumps of mascara were smeared on her cheeks, and a decent sized bruise was on the side of her neck.
“Should I take the gag off?” I asked myself.
No—then, she’ll never shut up.
Good point; she was already trying to tell me something, but I bypassed her to look around the room.
The door was locked, and there weren’t any shiny tools like the other rooms had—so what was I supposed to do?
The cabinets were the last place I checked. Standing from the plush sofa I had dramatically sat down on, I made a beeline across the stone floor to the cabinetry. On the bottom shelf in the right hand corner was a white bottle with a picture of a grill on it.
Lighter fluid.
Beside the bottle was a small book of matches. He couldn’t really expect me to light this girl on fire? But, of course he did. Was it considered giving up if I didn’t do it? I’m sure Mason would twist it that way. He was adroit at twisting words.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I inhaled a deep breath and then slowly let it out.
If I didn’t do it, someone else would, right? Then, I would have forfeited for nothing. Mason may not let me be after I went home, but at least I’d be home.
I could tell myself I cared what happened to Annie and not lay awake wondering about what ifs.
Mind made up, I quickly unscrewed the little red cap from the lighter fluid before turning to face Macy again. Her doe brown eyes bulged at the sight of it.
“Um…” I licked my lips, trying to find the right choice of words. How did I nicely explain that I was going to light her on fire?
Why bother? She never gave you the same respect.
“Okay,” I hyped myself one last time and squeezed the bottle, aiming the stream of fluid in Macy’s direction.
She squealed but was helpless to defend herself.
Just like the chair in Mason’s house, the straps around her wrists were embedded in her flesh.
Another wrapped around her forehead, giving her limited mobility when she tried to turn her neck.
I scrunched my nose up at the potent smell that rose in the air. I squirted the liquid until the bottle became virtually weightless, soaking her black shirt, hair, and denims.
Sitting the container on the stone floor, I wiped my sweaty palms on the fabric of my summer dress and retrieved the matches. I looked back at Macy and felt nothing but pity. She was whimpering loudly, her limbs trembling violently.
All the times she’d called me a freak and claimed I would always be alone surfaced in my brain.
You aren’t alone now.
In spite of the situation, I felt my mouth turn up at the corners.
I hadn’t felt alone in months—funny how that worked out. I never would have pictured a future like this before Mason. Now, it all seemed…normal. What I was about to do didn’t feel like some horrible, unjust act.
It took me three strikes to get a match lit; I held the burning stick and gave Macy my best apologetic look.
“I hope you burn fast,” I said awkwardly.
Her hair seemed the best place to start, and as soon as the small flame got near one of the kerosene-drenched strands, it spread.
I took a few fast steps back, my heart lurching in my chest as her head was engulfed in fire.
I’d never heard a human being make the sounds she was.
The smell was terrible; it reminded me of the time I got a rug caught in the vacuum cleaner. Her skin began to peel backward and gradually spread apart.
Something fatty oozed from her pores. If I had to be frank, the sight was almost fascinating.
My pulse raced and I curled my fingers into my hands.
I’m not sure how long I’d stood staring at her, when suddenly someone was pulling me towards the hall and Declan was spraying the chair down with a fire extinguisher.
Chapter Forty-Two
Was he mad?
Mason led me down the hall and all the way back to his room without sparing me a sec
ond glance. As soon as we got inside, he shut the door and pinned me in place with his eyes.
“Why did you do that?” he asked, his tone giving nothing away.
“You said I had to handle it.”
“And that translated into setting someone on fire?”
I stared at him in confusion. Wasn’t that what he wanted?
“Did I mess up?”
His phone began to ring before he could answer me. He withdrew it from his pocket and gently nudged me out of his way so he could leave the room, clearly wanting to speak in private.
The solid door clicked shut behind him, and I was still left without an answer. He didn’t seem inclined to give me those.
I sank down in the large tub of water without taking my clothes off.
Leaning my head back on the porcelain, I stared up at the vaulted ceiling, trying to sort myself out.
I waited with baited breath for my moral compass to kick into overdrive, but it never did. I knew my actions were abhorrent, but I felt no remorse or regret for the things I’d done.
Shutting my eyes, I tilted my head back to partially submerge it. After a few minutes, I felt a hand on my face and opened my eyes to Mason sitting on the edge of the tub, staring down at me.
He wasn’t side-eyeing me or commenting on the fact that I was sitting in a tub of water in a dress. He never poked fun at my antics.
“You didn’t mess up; you did exactly what I thought you would,” he said, trailing the pad of his thumb across my bottom lip.
Hearing those words from his mouth had a weight lifting off my shoulders.
Disappointing him cut like a knife. It made an earlier revelation have a bit more clarity. I didn’t have a true home, but when I was with him, it didn’t matter. He was home.
I hadn’t felt alone or soul-crushingly depressed since the moment I woke up in his house. Had this been the past, I would have been trying to drown my demons under the water. Mason had saved me in more ways than one. Whatever the visceral pull was between us, it was getting stronger. This part of our odd relationship was almost romantic.
On the flip side, I was in deep lust and love with a kidnapper and a member of a family that seemed to be full of hobbyist killers.
It was like one of those ridiculous romance stories: the captive fell dangerously in love with the captor, craving him like the air that filtered in and out of my corrupted lungs.
“What are you thinking?” he asked as he stood up and walked to where the bath towels were kept.
“I don’t know anything about you.”
“And what exactly do you want to know?” He turned back around with a guarded look on his face.
“Everything,” I softly admitted. “I want to know why I’m here, how you know my parents…Annie. And I want to know you,” I confessed.
He made a humming sound in his throat and motioned for me to stand up, holding a large towel open.
When I rose, water sloshed everywhere, and the weight of my black dress clung to my shoulders.
I accepted his outstretched hand and stepped out of the tub, and then let him wrap me up like one would in a toweled cocoon.
“Okay,” he agreed.
“Okay?” I couldn’t hide my surprise; he never told me anything. He gave me the smile that made my heart bounce around in my chest, his dimples on full display, and took my face in his hands.
“Later,” he promised before taking my mouth in a deep, gentle kiss.
Kissing him back, I could almost stand there and pretend we were just a normal man, and a normal woman.
Almost.
Chapter Forty-Three
When she found out the truth, she was going to hate me. As it was, I would go as far as saying she loved me. She’d never said the words aloud; it was something in her eyes.
Unlike me, Katie didn’t grow up in a loving family environment. Her father used her as collateral and left her, her mother abused her, and Annie let jealousy control her.
I only married her as a friend—the only friend thing I’d ever done in my life. I tried to get her away from her parents whilst setting up the illusion we were a real couple. Her father would have cut her off, otherwise.
She was supposed to be on the same page as me. When she realized I was after Katie all along, petty jealousy had her making a few rash decisions that resulted in her ending up in her current state at my father’s.
“I think she’ll be okay,” my father commented, pulling me out of my head. I followed his gaze to where Katie sat talking to Declan.
None of my usual possessiveness swarmed me at seeing them together. I’d encouraged them to grow close; she would need someone to talk to, and Declan was always more easy-going than I was.
I trusted him.
Seeing as he would one day help me take over from my father, I didn’t have a choice.
When I looked back at my father, I didn’t see a man who would let himself succumb to his sickness. I saw a replica of me. He always laughed his sickness off, saying the silent killer was the last thing he’d expected to try to take him out.
I knew he would fight it with the same vigor and determination he did everything else, but fuck, if the idea of losing him didn’t hurt. I wasn’t a pussy about admitting my feelings; I was a man who loved his father dearly and didn’t want to bury him anytime soon.
The dogs had been an excuse not to go home; his potentially impending death was the real reason I couldn’t leave.
We both knew it, but neither of us would comment on it. I knew he liked having us all together on the Dahlia’s property.
Even with all of us here, though, I knew he had a void in him. The kind that no amount of company could truly cure. My father had never gotten over my mother; he still wore his wedding ring. Every night he sat by the fireplace with nothing but a picture of her above the mantle to keep him company.
I couldn’t imagine losing the object of my obsession. I imagined it would be a slow and painful demise to keep on going without the one thing that made an inferno burn in your veins.
That was his biggest issue with Katie. He didn’t want her to hurt me in the way my mother had him.
I hoped he saw earlier that she truly could thrive in our family.
It wasn’t about changing her; it was about making sure she adapted. I would never let her head drag her back down again—not if I could help it. It’s why I did all I had. I’d planted a seed of unfathomable sin, and now it was time to nurture it.
All I could do after that was hope that she didn’t despise me for my actions, and hope I never lost control and turned her into another portrait on my walls.
Chapter Forty-Four
“Being a little bit fucked up runs in our genetics,” Declan explained with a boyish smile.
I’d tried to avoid him after dinner, but Mason dragged me along to the game room so he and his father could play a round of pool, and Declan refused to go away.
“I don’t think he likes me,” I mumbled, looking away from Mason’s father, who was watching me again.
“Who? Uncle J? He doesn’t have any issue with you personally, Katie.
You just remind him of someone, and he’s an overprotective son-of-a-bitch when it comes to me and Mason,” Declan explained.
Is that what a protective parent looked like? I’d never had one. No one had ever tried to protect me, except for Mason.
“What happened to her?” I asked after a prolonged moment of silence.
He didn’t answer me right away, seemingly thinking about his response.
“She killed herself,” he sighed. “If you want to get specific, she tried to kill Uncle J, too. She drove their car off a cliff. Mason was too little to remember her, but she left a note for him explaining why she did it.
He read it when we got a little bit older,” he explained.
His mother killed herself…
I looked around the massive house and took a quick peek at Mason’s father.
Someone looking in from the outside
would simply see a wealthy widowed man, a beautiful home, and a son he’d raised on his own. I knew better, though.
Sometimes, our heads could be a dangerous place. My mind had always been my own worst enemy. Declan’s next words solidified what I was already figuring out.
“I think she just wanted it all to end, ya know? From what my dad told me, she just lost touch with reality, wanted to give Mason a chance to have a normal childhood.”
We fell into silence after that. I knew exactly how it felt to have hell in your head, but then along came Mason and made it safe again.
Was he trying to save me because he felt responsible for his mother somehow? The theory made sense.
I was always so worried about my own issues, I never stopped to wonder who helped him through his.
Maybe we really were alike.
“Why did you lie the other day?” I kept my voice low.
“Because you need him to think you’re playing along. And…the person you’re looking for won’t help you in the long run. If you really want some answers, check the living room.”
“Why would you—“
“He’s coming,” he interjected, raising a glass to his mouth to play off his warning.
“Do you paint, too?” I swiftly changed the subject, blurting out the first thing that popped into my head.
“Do I…?” He shook his head and laughed, “No, angel, I just work the Red Rooms.”
“The Red Rooms?” It sounded like the name of a cheap motel.
“You’ll have to ask Mason about them.”
Sure—I’d just pencil that in under question four hundred that he had yet to answer.
Declan winked a silver eye at me and walked across the room as the topic of our discussion approached, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
Chapter Forty-Five
I lay on my side and watched him undress.
“Why haven’t we gone home yet?” I yawned, snuggling into my pillow.
He paused for a second and glanced over his shoulder at me. “The house is having some work done,” he replied, pulling his shirt over his head.
Obscene: A Dahlia Saga Novel Page 13