Wraith

by Joy Blood

  Sebastian regained his composure and once again caught her hair in his hand, this time forcing her face into the concrete floor. Over and over until the only thing left was a puddle of blood, brain matter and the clump of hair still in Sebastian’s hand. After witnessing the scene, my lips moved on their own accord. “And I had just moped that spot.” The fury in Sebastian’s eyes was now directed at me. I had gotten to know that fury all too well over the last months.

  “You will learn to keep your mouth shut unless it is needed,” he snaps, now close enough to reach out and grab me by the throat with his bloodied hand. “You don’t want to clean the spot again?” His grip is hard and hot around my neck, his body now pressing into mine. “Maybe I will clean it for you? Be a good little pet for me and I might forget you ever said anything.” The stench of his words pull at my ears, whispering along my spine the closer he gets. I hate it when he does this. He uses his closeness to draw something out of me, something I don’t know anything about, but I know deep down it’s wrong. It doesn’t help though. It never does, because I always find myself doing as he says. It may begin with a small tingle of pleasure, but it always ends in pain.

  Chapter Eight

  I keep my mouth shut as he rambles on about one thing or another, doing my best to tune him out. He is trying to break me. To get me to open my mouth and talk to him. I have no clue how long he has been here alone but by the sound of it, it has been some time. He is longing for human interaction. “Only a name, little girl. That is all I want. Just one fucking name. Tell me who you are working for,” he says, coming back to the bed from his pacing around. The small space of the building could drive any person crazy, or maybe he has always been like this. “How about this?” he says gripping at my hand still tied to the bedpost. “I can either treat your burns…” He hisses as he takes in my injured hand. “Damn, that looks nasty.” He examines it further making me turn my head just enough to catch sight of my palm. Angry red blistered flesh stares back at me. I could barely feel it before but now having set my eyes on the wound my mind is letting me know it hurts.

  “Put your mind over the pain, Sobaka. It isn’t there.” Master’s words echo in my head but before I can latch onto my training a sharp slice of pain spreads across my palm causing me to cry out in agony. My head snaps higher to find Wraith cutting into my blistered flesh and shaving away the bubbled skin.

  “That can’t feel good,” he tuts, his grin tipping slightly at the edge of his mouth. “One little name and I will make it stop,” he tells me, moving his knife to the next bubbled layer. Saliva pools in my mouth as bile tries to escape my throat when the blade digs into my hand. Grinding my teeth together hard enough that I feel my back molars cracking. My lungs expand and contract as I breathe heavily through my nose. “Name!” he calls out over me. His face doesn’t give way to anger, only curiosity. Like he is wondering how much I will endure until he ends up killing me. He continues on, filleting my hand like a fish. When he moves on to my other hand I can’t hold back the bile any longer. Tilting my head to the side I get sick, expelling what little I had in my stomach. As if that was all my body was waiting for, I pass out when the tip of his blade makes the first cut into my second hand.

  Chapter Nine

  She threw up all over my fucking floor and passed the hell out. She lasted much longer than I thought she would when I started hacking away at her blistered hand. I’m not getting shit out of the woman, and frankly, I’m starting to not give a shit. She came here on a mission to kill me, and each time our eyes connect, I can see the hate brewing in the storm cloud of her deep chocolate orbs. I can’t help but try to place her—the familiarity of her face and movements. I feel like I know her. The thought is absurd, but she came here for me, not just to fulfill a contract. This is personal for her. I can feel it, see it when she glares at me, taste it in the air. This woman wants me dead, and it isn’t because of some contract she took.

  Lesson number one in the hitman’s guide to taking down your target: don’t make shit personal. I plan on seeing how many more rules I can get her to break when she wakes up. Until then, I bandage up her hands, placing a burn balm on the inside to speed up the healing process.

  I eat, get comfortable—not really—on the chair once again, and try to find some sleep, but it as always evades me. About the time the dark blue sky shines from the moon beaming in through the small window in the kitchen, I sense her stirring. She still makes no sound but I know the moment she is aware of her surroundings. Glancing over I catch the flash of her eyes in the silver glow of moonlight. Her messy mass of hair falling from her destroyed braid seems to catch the glint also, giving the illusion she carries a hallo around her head. Which I know not to be true. The woman is no angel, maybe the angel of death, but that is all I will give her. Stunning as she may be, she is still here to kill me. Now I just need to figure out why. “That was a short nap,” I say breaking the silence. She ceases all movement and continues starting in the opposite direction of me. “I’m guessing you need to take a piss at some point?” I ask, rising to my feet. The fact that she hasn’t messed the bed is surprising to me. Most people under duress piss themselves from fear, or pain, but she is not most people. Far from it. The option of being able to relieve herself makes her head snap my way, confusion written all over her still scowling features. “I’m not a complete animal. And besides,” I start untying the binds on her feet, “I have already had to endure cleaning up your vomit. I rather not have to clean up your other excretions.” Tossing the rope to the side I go for the next bind when her foot swings out to connect with my jaw but I stop it mid kick. “Now, now. You be a good girl and I won’t have to put another knot on that pretty little head of yours,” I growl and forcefully toss her ankle away from me. It lands with a bounce on the thin mattress. She must decide to comply because after that she stays still and allows me to untie her.

  “Outhouse is a small walk from the cabin. Let’s go.” I flick my chin to the door. I can tell she wants to object due to her lack of clothes and footwear but her need to use the facilities keeps her quiet. She starts toward the door and dares to stop and grab at my coat. “That would be a no on the coat. Keep walking.” I grab at my coat and pull it on with a chuckle when she throws a glare at me. She opens the door and a gust of ice cold wind blows in and smacks us both in the face. With the temperature being below zero, her attempts to run away would be futile and just plain fucking stupid. Maybe forcing her out in the cold night with only her bra and panties is not such a good idea given the fact she might freeze to death before she even gets to the shitter but I’m not going to give the girl a chance to escape.

  She is quick with her pace and is in the small building doing her business in only seconds, but after more than two minutes inside, I decide she is taking way too long and open the door. Little bitch is ready for me and lands a hard punch right to the middle of my goddamn face. “Motherfuckinghell!” I feel the hot trickle of blood flowing freely from my nose as my hand goes to my face to protect myself further. She takes her chance to dart past me back to the cabin but I’m able to extend my booted foot out far enough to trip her. Her body falls to the snow packed trail with a slap and I’m on her. Straddling her waist as she tries to fight me off, the cold clearly getting to her, making her movements slow. Before she can get any further in her escape attempt my forehead comes crashing down onto hers sending as sickening crack of our skulls ringing through the night. Her head bounces off the ground and her eyes roll back into their sockets. “God damn you, girl,” I grumble as pull her up over my shoulder and pack her back into the cabin.

  Tossing her onto the bed I decide that maybe next time I will just let her piss in a damn pot while still tied to the bed. Her body is cold and her plump lips are quickly losing their color. Shit, I may have fucked up by making her take the walk to the outhouse almost naked. I could even tell as she was fighting me that she wasn’t at a hundred percent. The girl is a fearless tiger and didn’t let the cold stop her f
rom putting up a fight. That spark inside her is starting to go out now and I know if I don’t get the woman warmed up, she is as good as dead. The cabin is warm but she needs heat. Taking off my coat I hang it back up by the door and strip off my button up flannel shirt. My bare chest along her naked skin will help and I’m not going to lie, feeling a body next to me after having been alone for such a long time is going to be nice.

  Making sure her binds are secure, I position myself awkwardly on the bed above her and bring a blanket up over the top of us. While trying to keep my weight from crushing her I gently let our flesh meet. Her ice-cold stomach comes into contact with my heated one and I nearly flinch away. Melding myself along her cold body it doesn’t take long until I feel her temperature start to rise and her lips to regain their original color. No more blue for my tiger.

  My tiger?

  Maybe my brain got frost bite, but Jesus, I either need to kill this girl or let her kill me.

  Chapter Ten

  My eyes slowly start to crack open as the light from the window filters in. It takes me a split second to regain my memory as to where I am. When I do, the night comes rushing back to me at full force. Then I notice the heat radiating from something pressed against my body. Shifting slowly as to not alert my captor, my eyes grow wide when I realize its him who is the heavy heated weight pressing down on me. His head is nestled in the crook of my arm and his face is pressed up against my still covered breast. At least he didn’t strip me completely bare. The tickle of his whiskers rasp at the side of my body, and I try my best not to move away from the sensation. Searching around with my eyes I try to locate a weapon of some kind. Maybe he left his knife on him? Not that I could get to it with my hands tied above my head. When he shifts a little and brings his hips closer to my thigh he is pressed against I feel him—it, actually. A long thick shaft drags along my leg only covered by his flannel pajama pants. I wait for the panic and disgust to roll through me but when it doesn’t come I look back down at him. He is still out, sleeping peacefully until his brow creases and his hands start twitching. His head shakes and the scowl worsens on his once peaceful face. He is having a nightmare. He lets out a groan and his hips start moving along my leg. He is grinding his erection on me! Still the panic doesn’t set in. Not even when his arms tighten around me and inaudible words fall from his parted lips. The pained expression on his face contradicts his lower half that seems to be completely happy with what is happening. “No.” The first word I can make out falls out of his mouth as a desperate plea, like someone is hurting him. I want to break my silence and wake him but this insight into him stops me. What is his dream about? Who is hurting him? Questions flood my mind as his movements become choppy and his grip gets tighter. With a long drawn out groan I feel him start to slow and stiffen as his pants become damp on my leg. It’s then that my eyes find his—wide open and gazing at me. The dark irises being eaten by gold flecks taking over the green outer rim.

  We pause there in time for a moment. The tension thick between us. The heady smell of his pleasure hangs in the thinning air making my lower half do things I haven’t felt is some time. Heat floods me as he starts to lean in like he is about to kiss me. Then, as if a gun has just rung out above my head, I snap out of it and jerk my body. Throwing him off of me. He lands on the floor with a thud and starts laughing. Freaking laughing. “Shit. It’s been a long ass time since I had a wet dream.” The laugh sounds forced but he hides it well as he gets to his feet. He steps further away from the bed then does something I’m not expecting. He starts pulling his pants down. His back is still to me but when the fabric exposes the top globes of his ass cheeks, I force my eyes away and go back to staring at the wall opposite of where he stands. He continues to chuckle under his breath and as if he wants to annoy me further, he starts whistling. I don’t know the tune, maybe it’s just something he made up, but it’s a happy tune. Almost mocking. “Guess it was having a hot body next to mine. It’s been a while,” he confesses, coming to the bed once again this time in my line of sight. He has on a pair of jeans now and a black thermal shirt. Regarding me with creased brows he looks down at me. “I dry hump your leg while you are sleeping and you still can’t give me one word. Not even a hiss of disgust?” He laughs again. “Fine then, tiger.” He walks away, and I hear sounds coming from the small kitchen setup. The scent of food fills my nose and my stomach growls in protest of the empty pit. The granola bars I kept in my pocket only sustained me so long.

  “Open up.” His words come into the thoughts of being hungry I try to push away. He is holding a spoonful of soup in front of me and in my defiant way I take the bite. I wait for only a moment—when he seems pleased with himself for getting me to take the food—before spraying it back at him. The salty mixture of vegetables and broth hits him square in the face, where I clearly see the hit I gave him last night, adding to the damage I caused during our first encounter. The purple shading underneath his eyes is now painted with vegetable soup. “You are a feisty one,” is all he says, setting the bowl and spoon on the side table. Then he takes his hand and swipes along his face, gathering up the discarded food. When I think he is just about to wipe it along his jeans, he brings his opposite hand to my throat then the soiled hand to my mouth. Without warning, he thrusts his fingers into my mouth holding them as deep as he can get them. Gasping around the digits, I try breathing through my nose but it’s useless because his other hand grips around my neck. “There is a reason why you are here and it isn’t just to kill me,” he growls in my face. My mouth stretches to the limit with his salty vegetable soup coated fingers, stalling any attempts I might make to defend myself, or even respond. I try my best to clench my jaw shut—to bite him—but it doesn’t happen. “You are either going to tell me why the fuck you are here to kill me or you are—” His words falter, as if he just realized what he was doing to me. He jerks back and wipes away my saliva and the soup onto his pants. “Fuck it,” he grumbles stalking over to the kitchen. I keep my eyes on him as he pulls something from a drawer and tosses it at me. The thin steel blade of a butcher knife slaps against my bare stomach, bounces off and lands on the mattress. “You cut yourself free and we will see who wins this little showdown we have going on here.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The tainted stale air of the basement still makes me sick to my stomach. Even with the constant routine of hosing the blood and excretions down the drain out in the hall. I force the faces I see down here to be nothing but passing images. Shadows disappearing in the light. Not once, in the years that I have been here, have I seen the sunlight. Felt its warmth on my skin. Roman gives me more tasks but Sebastian is the one to care for me. He has taught me math and how to read, and other things I rather not learn. “Have you gotten your chores done?” Roman barks out from his office door as I walk by to my room. I pause and stand in the doorway to answer him.

  “Yes, sir,” I tell him bowing my head.

  “Good. Sebastian said you are getting good at your arithmetic, no?” I nod but realize I need to speak when Roman shoots me a scowl of annoyance.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Good. Come in here and take a look at this then. Let’s see how much you know about accounting. Can’t have you cleaning the trenches for the rest of your life.” His words shock me but I keep it to myself as I continue into the office, sitting in the seat he offers as I get closer. He proceeds to show me what he means about accounting and to his surprise, and my own, I’m quite good at it, or so he says.

  It’s maybe an hour or so later when movement in the corner of the room catches my eye. I had been so entranced with the lesson that I had missed the thing crouched in the corner—a girl. Or at least I’m guessing it’s a girl. Long dark hair covers her, almost as if she is using it to hide behind. That is when Roman spots my curiosity. “I see you have noticed my little pet in the corner.” His name choice making me inwardly cringe. Does he use her the same way Sebastian does me if he calls her the same name? The thought causes my
teeth to grind together.

  “I see you took my advice.” Sebastian’s voice comes from the door making me snap my attention from the person in the corner, focusing it on the tall figure looming in the doorway.

  “Yes. And you were right, the boy is quite good. He can start doing the small things. Pay roll and what not,” Roman declares, making Sebastian almost look…proud.

  “You hear that, pet? You’re getting a job for your birthday,” Sebastian says with a smile, making my brows crease in the middle as I look up at him in question.

  “My birthday?”

  “Yes. You are eighteen now. As an adult, you’ll need an adult job.” Roman’s voice breaks through my amazement. I’m eighteen? At the mention of my age I catch a flash of something across Sebastian’s face but it’s gone before I can determine what it is.

  “Right. Well, is he about done for tonight?” I know that tone, what comes when the rasp in his voice becomes thick.

  “Yes. We are done. Come here first thing in the morning Esteban. No more cleaning for you. Now go.” And just like that I no longer need to go down to the basement and hose out the cells. With one last look at the hunched over form in the corner, I walk out of Roman’s office. I follow Sebastian, knowing even though I have a new job, I still have to do as he tells me, which by the pace he is walking toward my room will be much more than I may be able to handle tonight.

  “Clothes off,” Sebastian barks out as soon as the door to my room slams shut. He is over to me in two strides as my pants hit the floor after my tee shirt. Clothes he has bought for me. Ever since the first set of clothes, he has gotten me more, each one fitting me better than the last. But with each article of clothing comes more of him. “Your skin is always so damned smooth, boy.” He hums at my back as he strokes between my shoulder blades. He always starts this way. Soft, teasing, until I’m needing so much from him that I can barely stand it. I feel myself growing hard at his words like I always do. When his hand wraps around me and his other forces me to bend over the bed I know what is about to come. I don’t like this part—never have—but the end result leaves me a panting sated mess. I always submit to him, needing the release that he provides when he gets his, but today—I don’t want to submit. Today, I have the image of the girl cowering in the corner. The girl who is there against her will, being treated like a dog. Probably being treated like me. In that moment, I know that this isn’t something I want. The thought hits me as his thick shaft forces its way inside me for the last time.