by J. L. Beck
Knowing that I can’t save her from getting sold is eating me alive. It feels like someone poured acid into my gut. I can’t change her fate but maybe I could at least keep her comfortable until the auction. I know its a horrible idea and that it won’t change anything in the end, but I just can’t go on like it’s not killing me to know she is down there. I could just go and sit with her… at least until she falls asleep.
On my way back to the compound I pass a twenty-four hour pharmacy and decide to stop in. I suppose she could use some womanly stuff. I pull into the parking lot and park, exhaling deeply. What the hell am I doing? I don't even have a damn answer. Five minutes later I stand in front of a shelf filled with tampons and pads.
What. The. Fuck.
Why are there so many different types of these things? How the fuck am I going to know what to get? Out of the corner of my eye I see a middle aged women walk up to where I’m standing.
She grabs a pack of pads off the shelf and puts it in her shopping basket. Then she stops and looks up at me curiously. I look away before she sees me looking at her.
“There is no way in hell my husband would ever bring himself to buy me this. You look a little lost though.”
Is it that obvious? Holy hell. Before I can get a word out she turns and grabs another package off the shelf and hands it to me.
“Here, these are a good brand and they're a multipack for each kind of flow so you can’t go wrong.”
What the fuck is flow? I hold the box of pads in my hand looking down at them like they're going to grow a second head. The unknown lady gives me a soft smile walking away before I can thank her. I toss the box into my little basket and look over the rest of the aisle.
Right next to the pads are condoms and and a selection of lube. In an instant my mind is filled with images of using both. Rolling a condom on my cock right before sliding into her. Rubbing lube all over her ass… maybe slipping a finger deep inside.. My dick is already pressing uncomfortably against my zipper and I quickly turn to walk away before I get a raging hard on in the middle of this store.
I shake my head at myself...sex, with her? Not that it’s a bad thought...the innocence she carries tells me she’s a virgin I mean she had no idea how to give me a damn hand job. There’s no way she’s had sex and not given a hand job before. The problem with the thought is that sex is something I can never have with her. She must remain intact if she’s too be sold to the highest bidder.
It’s her owners duty to strip her of her innocence to claim her, and I grit my fucking teeth at the thought. I hurry down the aisle and grab a pack of underwear hanging on one of the end caps. I check that they’re a size small and then I rush down the next isle and get a toothbrush and some toothpaste before I head to the register and pay for all of it.
The drive back to the compound only takes me a few minutes and I park my car in the same spot as before and walk in with a bag full of stuff I never thought I would be carrying into this place… or carrying period. I walk straight down stairs bypassing the guards, not stopping until I’m standing right in front of her cell looking through the one-way mirror. If it wasn’t for some locks of her blond her coming out I would think there was just a pile of laundry laying on the bed.
I almost grin looking at her. She is curled in on herself, my clothes swallowing her tiny body. I stand there like an idiot watching her for a few minutes before I pull out my keys and unlock the door. As soon as she hears the door open she sits up straight, her big blue eyes wide and alert.
I shouldn’t be here, it becomes more apparent as a small smile pulls at her full lips. Clearly she enjoys seeing me, probably looks forward to it. Fuck.
I cross the room and hold the grocery bag out to her.
“I got this stuff for you. I wasn’t sure exactly what you needed so I got a multi pack.” She hesitantly takes the bag and looks inside it like something might jump out and bite her.
“Thank you.” It’s the most genuine thank you I’ve ever heard in my entire life, like I’ve just given her a bottle of water after a ten mile walk in the desert. She takes the bag and takes it to the tiny bathroom.
“It’s nothing.” I shrug, playing it off when in reality it’s huge. I’ve not only broken every one of my own rules by taking her out of her cell, and giving her a shower, but now I’ve gone to the store and bought her a bunch of things that she truthfully doesn’t need.
This place isn’t supposed to be a good, enjoyable, happy place. It’s not a vacation, its a fucking death sentence and I don’t know why the hell I’m trying to make it seem like anything other than that. I see her wince, as she hobbles back towards the mattress.
I clench my jaw. I shouldn’t care if she’s in pain. In fact I don’t...or at least I tell myself that, right up until I fucking open my mouth. “Are you okay?” I growl, simply because I don’t want to ask the question but I feel compelled too.
This woman represents everything I cannot have...and everything is bad about me and this damn world that I live in.
“Yes, I’m fine. It’s just cramps, sometimes they’re really bad.” She sits back down while holding a hand to her stomach. “It should be better tomorrow. Usually the first and second day are the worst for me and today is my second.”
“Where is that medicine I gave you?” My eyes scan the mattress but I don’t see the bottle. She reaches between the wall and the mattress, and hands it to me. I open the bottle and let one pill fall into my hand.
“Take it,” I order and hold it out to her.
“I really don’t want to. I’ll be fine, I swear. I have this every month you know.” Of course I know she is right. This is nothing she and every other women on the planet deal with this every month. Problem is none of my thoughts concerning her are rational.
“Take it and I stay until you go to sleep. Don’t take it and I leave now.”
She only thinks about it for two seconds before she takes the pill and washes it down with some water. I sit down next to her. She immediately scoots over to press her body against mine and leans her head against my arm. In a perfect world I know someone like her would never look at someone like me to protect them, to save them.
“Why me?” She whispers into the room. “Why did you have them kidnap me from that club?”
“I didn’t. I don’t know why they took you. I don’t usually deal with this part of the business. The girls that get selected have nothing to do with me.”
I don’t know why I tell her this. I know I shouldn’t. It doesn’t change anything.
“They called you boss.”
“I’m their boss... not the boss.” I crack my knuckles needing to do something with my hands before I run them through her silky hair.
She doesn’t ask any more questions after that and I’m so fucking glad that she doesn’t. Silence settles over us and the room seems so quiet. I look at the four white colored walls. There is no sunlight, or saving grace to this room. Everything about it makes me want to pick her up and carry her upstairs to my bedroom. She belongs in a bed. My bed.
No. The thought is irrational. She is not mine, and she never will be. There an internal battle taking place inside me and force once in my damn life I want to do the right thing.
I couldn’t save her...but I can save the tiny woman leaning against me. I listen waiting for her breathing to even out and once it does I listen a little longer before I get up very slowly leaving her on the mattress. I walk to the door and unlock it, it creaks loudly when I open it and I half expected her to wake back up at the noise since it’s so fucking loud but when she doesn’t, I remember what she said to me before. If she takes the pills then someone could come into her cell and take advantage of her and of course she wouldn’t be able to defend herself.
The thought makes me furious. Jesus fucking christ I feel like it’s a losing battle no matter what. I slam the door shut loudly while I’m still in the room and watch her closely.
Fucking great. Nothing. She doesn't even stir at the
loud noise vibrating off the walls of her cell. I told the guys not to come near her again but what if one of my men is stupid enough to go against my orders? It wouldn’t be the first fucking time. Every worse case scenario possible pops into my head. What if someone comes in here and she can’t do anything? What if they steal from her the only thing she has left to give?
The only reason she got away last time is because she fought them, I remember Luca’s face. He looked like a feral cat scratched his face… or a kitten. I look down at her motionless form. This time with the pain pills in her system there wouldn't be any fighting. She won’t know what’s happened until it’s too late and I won’t be fucking responsible for that shit. I’ve got enough dark shit that hangs over my head…
A surge of anger overcomes me and I have to let out. I’m so angry, furious. I need to break something but there is nothing in this fucking room… nothing and that infuriates me even more. My hands are balled into tight fists and I use one of those fists to punch the unforgiving concrete wall. It’s a stupid choice, one I’m aware of as soon as my knuckles kiss the concrete. This just adds to the long list of stupid choices I’ve been making lately.
“Fuck.” I bellow in pain, the sound of my voice is loud in this piece of shit nothingness, and I grit my teeth, letting the pain fester inside of me. My hand throbs, and when I flex my fingers, more pain radiates from it, up and throughout my arm.
I know what I have to do...and I don’t want to do it. I fucking don’t, but I won’t be able to live with myself if something happens to her while she is here. She’s my responsibility now. I can’t just forget about her.
I unlock the door once more before I pick up her limp body from the mattress and hold her to my chest. I carry her through the building, and up to the third floor. As always most of my men are either sleeping or doing other things. I somehow manage to unlock the door while holding her in my arms. Once inside, I take her to my bedroom and place her down onto the bed.
She looks like she belongs here. I shake my head and walk out of the bedroom.
Her earlier question rings loudly in my ears. Why did they take her? I know they write everything down about each woman they bring in and place the information into a file but typically I don’t read the whole thing. I just glimpse over it. Yet, now I have the urge to know how she got here, and why she was taken.
I want to know everything about her. I clench my fists at my sides, I need to get her file…but the files are downstairs in my office. I walk back into the bedroom, telling myself I’m only doing it to check on her...when in reality I can’t take my eyes off of her. I’m obsessed, my protective instincts overshadowing even my duty to the job.
She is completely out, having not even moved an inch. There is no way she is waking up any time soon, which is great because I need to go get that damn file. With one last fleeting look I leave my apartment, locking the door behind me. I head down to my office to retrieve the file. The sound of laughter fills my ears. Sometimes the men have card night, drinking, and gambling money. I consider going down the hall to check on them but change my mind. I’ve got my hands fucking full as it is. As soon as I’m back in the apartment I go and check on her just to find her in the same exact spot I left her in. With the file in hand I sit down on the couch. For a long moment I just stare at the brown folder knowing that opening it will only make matters worse.
Knowing her name… knowing how and why she was taken is only going to act as gasoline on the already burning fury inside of me. Still… like the idiot I am, I open it. I swear I have a death fucking wish or something.
The first paper is the report that my men did on her when they brought her in. I read over it and my teeth grind together more with every word I read.
She was just too pretty to pass up.
Tiny. Five foot. One-hundred-twenty-five pounds. She looked like a virgin.
They weren’t even there for her. They just took her because it was convenient. She was leaving the club early and they just plucked her off the street and threw her into the van. I flip to the next page, damn near ripping the piece of paper in the process.
On the next page is a copy of her driver's license and a small background check that they ran. She smiles on the grainy black and white picture on the ID, she looks younger… happier and I realize then that I’ve never actually seen her smile.Like actually smile, from pure joy. Yeah she’s given me a tiny smile but nothing compared to the smile I’m looking at in front of me. I look over her ID, and all the info on the paper.
Violet Rivers, eighteen years old.
Shit. I knew she was young but I didn’t realize she was that fucking young. I continue reading, my eyes can’t move fast enough. She just turned eighteen… I look at the date again and flip back to the first page.
Fuck. It was her birthday… she was taken on her fucking birthday.
I inhale a deep breath but it doesn’t feel like I’m getting enough air. I don’t know why I do it but I force myself to finish reading her background check.
Parents deceased. Only living relative... a sister. Violet just got out of high school and she was enrolled in the local college, but the semester hadn’t started yet. She didn’t even have the chance to go to a single class… and now she never will. Now she’s on the road to being beaten, enslaved in a world full of hate, and sex. Instead of going to college she’ll be passed around, from man to man, being used, and abused, until they either kill her, or she kills herself.
“No.” I growl, wanting to scream. I shut the folder and toss it onto the table in front of me. I lean forward holding my hands in my head. I run my fingers through my longish hair. What the fuck am I supposed to do?
I can’t let myself feel anything more for her then I already have. I can’t let her in...and above all I cannot save her from the monsters hidden in plain sight, not when I’m part of the reason she is here. I’m weak...I can’t let her go,I can’t save her, and it’s killing me.
I scrub a hand down my face, and then shove from the couch, heading towards the kitchen. I open one of the cabinets that contain my favorite whiskeys. I grab the first one I see, and open it, bringing the bottle to my lips.
She’s nothing. Just another body, another pussy to be sold, another dollar bill. I tell myself this over and over again. I greedily drink from the bottle as if I’ll find the answer to all my problems at the bottom of it. The whiskey coats my insides with warmth.
Why do I want to save her?
Because you couldn’t save her.
I want to throw the bottle in my hands against the wall but instead I continue drinking. I drink for hours, or at least I think it’s hours. When I push up from the floor, my steps are unsteady, and I lean against the wall to stop myself from falling over.
Fuck. I squeeze my eyes shut to stop the world from spinning around me. I walk into my bedroom. I sound like a herd of elephants as I do, slamming into walls, and knocking over some shit on one of my tables, I don’t fucking know, and then I cross the threshold into my room and I see her.
Violet. My tiny kitten. So fucking perfect. So fucking beautiful. A temptress I’m willing to fucking risk everything for? I sag down onto the mattress beside her. The urge to hold her is so strong I grit my teeth and damn near sit on my hands to stop myself from doing so. Then as if the universe is testing my control Violet rolls over, snuggling into my side.
I press my nose into her hair. She smells like me, and roses, fucking roses. My mouth waters over roses and I don’t fucking understand this...her, me, what the plan is. I don’t fucking get it but while I have her in my arms I’m going to relish in her touch. I’m going to fucking hold her until I can’t anymore, until the morning light enters the windows.
“Fuck, Kitten what am I going to do with you?”
Chapter Six
Violet
I’m warm. Overly warm. So warm it feels like the sun is beating down on me. I want to lean into the warm, reach out in touch it. I groan into the soft sheets beneath my hands. So
ft sheets? I don’t know what it is yet but something feels off...like I’m not waking up in the same place I went to sleep at.
“No. I’m sorry...I didn’t…” A voice shouts beside me. My eyes pop open, fear clinging to my insides like sticky honey. My gaze sweeps over the room, until they land on Ivan laying beside me, his face is scrunched up pain and sadness painted on his features.
“No. No. No. It can’t...she can’t be gone…” Ivan roars, and I push off the mattress, gripping onto his thick shoulders. Is he having a nightmare? What’s happening to him? I shake him, or try to at least. His arms flail back and forth, his fists are clenched and they land heavily against the mattress. He starts to toss and turn and I worry he may roll over me, and squish me.
“Ivan wake up. Wake up.” I shake his shoulders.
“I’m sorry Mira. I’m so sorry.” The anguish in his voice rips through me. Mira? Who could she be? I don’t know what he’s dreaming about but something is haunting him, chasing him even in his dreams and I can’t stand to hear him be so hurt.
“Ivan!” I yell this time. When he doesn’t respond I decide to slap him. Pulling my hand back I slap him square across the face, my palm connecting with his heated cheek, the sting from the contact of my hand on his skin can still be felt when his eyes open, his hand coming up to grip my wrist as if out of reflex.
His grip is hard as steel and I grimace at his touch. There’s a feral look in his eyes, a deep fear. I only catch a glimpse of it before he blinks and it’s gone. Anger replaces those emotions, and flares in his stone gray eyes. A coldness sweeps through me, as he sits up slightly. It’s then that I catch a whiff of whiskey. It hangs in the air between us.
“Were you drinking?” I ask softly. Ivan’s eyes bleed into mine for a long moment, before he releases my wrist with a shove. I’m not sure what happened. When I fell asleep everything was different. I was in my cell, but now I’m here, and I don’t understand why, and I don’t understand why he’s so angry with me.